A Retreat of Truths

[Ceridwyn2]

A Retreat of Truths
By: J. Lynn Stapleton (aka Ceridwyn2)

This is the first Spooks story I've written, though not the first fanfic written. This story came about after recalling some stuff from a trip I took this spring to Oxford. The story is set post-Ep 505, though Ruth is still present. The story is complete, so I'll be uploading it all over the next couple of days.

Tuesday Morning, 7th November 2006
Thames House, London

Life in the Grid of MI-5 was in its usual organized chaotic state. Intelligence officers were moving about collecting and retrieving files to study and analyse. Or at least appeared to be doing so. When in actual fact they were unobtrusively keeping watch on Harry Pearce's office to see when the figures inside would implode, or just kill each other. The section chief had been visited by Juliet Shaw, the National Security Coordinator, and for all intents and purposes, the meeting was something neither of them relished. Suddenly the office door swung open and everyone made quick haste to make themselves look busy.

"I'm telling you, Harry, it wasn't my doing. If you don't like it, take it up with the Home Secretary." Both Juliet and Harry seemed to wear identical expressions of loathing. Perhaps Juliet more so, as the effect of storming out of an office had kind of lost some of its effectiveness when one was in a motorized wheelchair. Malcolm, Ruth, Zaf and Jo watched as Juliet disappeared beyond the pods.

"What did she want?" Ruth asked pointedly, fearing the answer she might get.

"If you've got any plans for this weekend, cancel them. Mandatory working retreat for secret intelligence services. MI-5, MI-6, Special Branch, and Joint Intelligence Committee must send delegates for this. Non-negotiable." Harry managed to growl out. It was most certainly not on his priority of things to do in this, or any other century. "Apparently they also decided to spring it on us without much notice, so that we'd have no opportunity to pull out of the retreat."

Ros lifted her head from the screen she was viewing. In her usual dry manner, she quipped, "Oh, wonderful. An opportunity for Britain's intelligence services to wipe each other off the planet. Why wait for the terrorists to do it, when the Home Secretary can do it for you."

"Where is this little retreat supposed to be?" Ruth asked.

"Oxford."

"Not in London?" Adam queried.

"No. Apparently the powers that be decided that should this retreat be held in London, most of us would be at Thames House (and respective other parts of the city) rather than be at the retreat. So no, it's being held at Malmaison Oxford. Here's the list of staff that are expected to be there from Thames House: Ros, Zaf, Ruth and myself. Staying in London are Adam, Jo, and Malcolm."

Something clicked in Ruth's memory of what Juliet stated before she left. Then she sighed. "Oh, please tell me the wicked witch is not going to be there all weekend as well?"

The edge of Harry's lips curled up almost imperceptibly as he acknowledged Ruth's comment. But she saw it. "Sorry. But Juliet will be there as well. Not willingly, I can assure you."

"I suppose it's fitting then, that we're staying there," Ruth noted quietly.

"Pardon?" Jo asked.

"The Mal Oxford used to be Her Majesty's Prison Oxford before it got decommissioned. When I studied in Oxford, the prison was on the bus route I often took. Apparently the place is all rather posh now, but still with a prison theme."

"Why fitting?" Adam asked sensing the direction of conversation, and he smirked.

"Because if I have to spend too much time around Juliet Shaw this weekend I'm going to get done for GBH, and end up in a prison. None too swank as that, I can guarantee."

Harry put his hand over his mouth to cover the smile. But the half-laugh died as quick as it started as Ruth looked over at him. The others weren't so reserved and laughed heartily. Eventually Ruth joined in on the humour of the situation. Hell, she figured, she might as well laugh than cry.

After things settled down a bit, Ruth, being quite the pragmatist, asked why the retreat was being held so quickly. "I mean it's not like counter-terrorism has nothing else to do. Especially as Special Branch keeps piling on the reports by the truckload."

"After the Director General's speech on terrorist threats, the Home Secretary decided that it was in the country's best interests if the intelligence agencies worked with more co-operation, rather than passing the buck." Harry walked around the room so that he stood behind Ruth at her workstation.

Ruth scrunched up her face. "All very well and good. Until you remember that someone in the JIC tried to frame me for the murder of Maudsley." She looked briefly up at Harry, slightly exasperated. "I never did get the whole truth on how that was resolved."

"Not now, Ruth." Harry understood her frustration. He felt it as well. But as much as he felt, right then was neither the time, nor the place to discuss it. He gave her a glance, leaning down he quietly whispered in her ear, "Later." He then walked around and headed into his own office.

A lot of discussion followed between the colleagues about the retreat, the possible goals and outcomes that might be brought up, and how much surveillance equipment they'd be bringing. "Just to be on the safe side,"

Malcolm quipped. After a look from Jo, he added, "You don't think we'll be the only ones intending on covert intel at this retreat, do you?" he asked rhetorically.

"Spooks spying on each other. Sounds like fun," Adam smiled. "Too bad I'll miss it."

Zaf threw a crumpled sheet of paper at him. "I was supposed to have a date this weekend. Gorgeous girl, too."

"I feel for you, buddy," Adam grinned and replied, in a tone that said anything but. "Now, we've got some work to do in advance of this retreat. Let's see how much headway we can make." Each of the officers grabbed some files and headed to the conference room. Hours went by, discussions grew and finally most everyone packed in for the day.

________________________________________

Harry was just coming out of his office when he saw the light on in the small office kitchenette. A moment later, he heard the sound of a ceramic crashing against the counter, and onto the floor. It was followed by a slew of curses. Quickly he made his way over to find Ruth bent over trying to clean up the remnants of a broken mug. It was then that Harry noticed droplets of blood falling to the floor.

"Ruth, stop. You're bleeding." He inwardly cursed as she flinched. "Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you."

"It's okay, I was just getting a mug to have some tea. I mustn't have had a good grip because it slipped out of my hand. I'll just get this cleaned up."

"Ruth," Harry added in a low tone that brokered no arguing. He grabbed a clean cloth from the drawer, wrapped Ruth's hand, and then he directed her over to the chair in the corner of the kitchenette.

"It's really not that bad, Harry. Shouldn't even require stitches." Ruth disliked most people fussing over her. And she was a little embarrassed that it was Harry fussing over her.

"Ruth, it's all right. Just sit back and let me do this for you." After a moments hesitation he continued, "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but why didn't you leave when the others did?"

"Why didn't you?" she playfully shot back. It had become a rather frequent discussion between the two.

"Paperwork."

"Tell me about it. I swear Special Branch has nothing better to do than make my life a living hell. Do they not have their own bloody analysts?" she asked, knowing full well that there were analysts in the newly formed Counter-Terrorism Command. Ruth sighed, very frustratingly.

As Ruth talked, Harry had found the first aid kit in the cupboard and called her over to the sink. He turned the water on to warm then unfolded the cloth that had been wrapped around her hand. "Here, let me see the cut." Harry gently turned her hand over and examined the extremity. A long thin sliver ran across the palm of her hand. "Put your hand under the water, we need to see if there's any shards in there."

Ruth did so, only because in doing so she found herself less flustered by the attention. They were very much aware that they were interested in each other. They'd had one dinner date that seemed to go fairly well, except for the nervousness both of them felt. After becoming aware that others were talking about them, Ruth stopped wanting the relationship to go any further. She felt it undermined Harry's authority and she felt uncomfortable with their colleagues talking about their relationship, especially as he was her boss. That being said, she was still in love with him, and could tell that at least some of that affection was reciprocated.

After a few moments, Harry dried off her hand and took a look. Then he placed a bandage on her hand and wrapped it with gauze. "There, that should be all right." He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did. After a few moments they both realised he was still cradling her hand in his. The break was enough to break the spell that had kept them entranced. He remembered that she'd originally come in to get some tea.

"Ruth, do you still want a cup of tea? Or would you like me to drop you home? It's long past time of the last bus."

"I probably should. The cats will be wondering whatever happened to me. Wanting to be fed and all that. I think that's why I got the kitten, to keep Fidget company for the long hours I'm at work." Ruth knew she was babbling some. She knew it was a coping mechanism when she was flustered. And having Harry Pearce this close to her was doing all sorts of crazy things to her insides. "I need to lock down my computer for the night and put away the files I was working on."

"I'll be back in just a moment. I need to get my coat." Just as he said after about five minutes, he'd turned off his own computer, dimmed the lights, retrieved his coat and closed his office door. He placed his hand along the small of her back after Ruth put her own coat on and led them over to the pods before leaving the floor.
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Friday Morning, 10th November
Oxford, UK

The usual hustle and bustle around MI-5 kept things flowing. Over the past few days, the security services closed in on a domestic terrorist plot in Manchester, wherein more than a dozen suspects were taken in and interrogated. It was now up to the Home Office to lay charges. It was probably just as well that was wrapped up as Thames House was going to be short a few of its officers over the weekend. By ten o'clock, the paperwork had been completed, and Harry, Ruth, Ros, and Zaf had piled their rucksacks into the boot of the hire car and left for Oxford. By mutual agreement, they decided to talk about anything other than work, as it would be the topic of discussion and debate for the next two days.

To their surprise, Zaf and Ros found they had similar likes in choices of music, sharing similar CD collections. Topics also touched on theatre, film, television, and travel. Given their intended destination, Harry recalled that Ruth had read Classics at Corpus Christie College in Oxford. They'd pretty much finished debating favourite classicists and their philosophies when they arrived at the hotel and dropped their belongings off with the concierge. Harry left to take the car to the nearest car park, as the hotel did not have its own. When they got to the hotel, they worked out the accommodation arrangements that had been made. Two double rooms on the top level of A-Wing with Ros and Ruth in one room and Harry and Zaf in the other, on opposite sides of the hallway. After settling their belongings, Zaf and Ruth swept the room for any surveillance equipment.

The actual start of the retreat wasn't to commence until the evening, so they had plenty of time to kill. Harry had asked Zaf and Ros to check out the interior of the hotel, while he and Ruth walked the perimeter.

It was overcast and about twelve degrees out, with a bit of a wind clipping through the buildings. As Ruth gathered her coat around her, she looked up and regarded the stone masonry of the old castle and prison.

"It remains rather foreboding from the outside. I remember when this was still the prison. Had a much different look to it then. There were these large wooden doors at the entrance with a smaller door within the large for pedestrian entrance. The Guards always stood at the gates. It was all rather terrifying at times, as I took the bus home. Not that I was ever afraid of anyone breaking out or some such thing. But rather to think of being incarcerated with so many others, without the freedom to move about without restriction." Ruth shivered. And she was fairly sure it wasn't entirely from the wind that swept around her.

Harry moved closer to her and gently wrapped an arm around her back. "Are you cold?"

"Not really. Let's just keep moving." While Ruth quickened her pace, she found she also leaned more into Harry's side, taking comfort in his presence. To the right of the A-Wing building, a series of adjoined shops, and restaurants to form an external atrium.

"I spent some time in a prison once. In Beirut, during its civil war in the early 1980s. Another intelligence operative and I had gone undercover. We'd gone in search of two men who'd been transporting weapons and cash into and out of the UK via a smuggling ring. We thought we had one of them but couldn't be sure. Anyway, for whatever reason I wasn't privy to at the time, our cover was blown. Kyle and I were convicted of a drugs possession though none were ever found. We were in there for three months. Kyle was killed on the op by one of the inmates. He was one of the first friends I lost in the service. I was able to get word out to the British Embassy via a sympathetic Lebanese guard. Not long after MI6 got me out of there and back on British soil. I can tell you from personal experience, it's not something I'd ever want to repeat. On British soil, or anywhere else for that matter."

They'd walked around much of the perimeter, getting familiar with the new surroundings and ended up with walking through the exercise yard, to sit on a bench. The wind had abated somewhat with them being surrounded on most sides by buildings. The dismal grey of the sky lent itself to the atmosphere. But hopefully not foreboding the weekends retreat.

"The tower there," Ruth pointed to her right, "is St. George's Tower. Dates back to about the 10th century. This prison and castle has quite the story behind it, as I'm sure most do." She knew she was talking a lot but she was never really comfortable with long bouts of silence.

"Ruth, relax, I can feel the tension surrounding you," Harry commented with a smile to set her at ease. "Everything will work out."

"I just don't like the idea of people talking about us&like we're having some kind of sordid affair. Or that I was just sleeping with you to get ahead in the job. It undermines your authority. Never mind what they'd think of me."

As usual, Harry thought, she puts others ahead of herself. He took Ruth's still bandaged left hand in his, "They'd know you were bright, intelligent, witty, resourceful and beautiful. And they'd realise you were good for my sanity. You keep me grounded when I need to be, and you're a fantastic sounding board." Ruth turned her head slightly to look at him.

"Your sanity?" She remarked with a smirk.

"Ask Malcolm. He was there at the time." A chirp from Harry's mobile phone cut their conversation short. "Yes, okay. Thank you." He concluded the call and put the phone back in his coat pocket. "That was Ros. Six have arrived, as has Juliet."

"Agh. Don't remind me."

"Ruth, be good." Harry laughed slightly as they stood and made their way up the stairs from the exercise yard into A-Wing.
________________________________________

Ruth: Shall I hit him again Adam?
Adam: Only if you want to.