Author's Note: I'm still in deep mourning. Thank goodness for fanfic! This came to me out of the blue as I was getting ready this morning…The title of this comes from the wonderful Ellis Paul song of the same name – highly recommended (both song and artist)! I love reviews…
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Hushed voices. Somewhere in the distance, a door opens and closes. He wants to scream for someone to answer the bloody thing, until he realizes the annoying beeping is not from someone's phone, but from a machine somewhere behind and to the left of his head. He's exhausted, and just the act of trying to separate out the sounds around him tires him even more. Oblivion overtakes him again, and he doesn't fight it.
"Ruth."
It's the sound of his own voice, feeble as it is, that pulls him back again. His eyelids feel like lead, but he continues periodically to try to open them. After an eternity, he manages to keep his eyes open, and is rewarded for his efforts by the sight of her.
She's just as beautiful as he remembers; her bright eyes the color of the sea, an unruly lock of hair refusing to stay behind her ear. Her fidgety fingers belie her understated grace. She's wearing color, a deep burgundy, and it suits her perfectly. The room is bright, almost too much so, but he doesn't look away. After all this time, she is with him again, and it's almost too much for his wounded heart to take. He doesn't dare speak and ruin the moment; they were never good with words, anyway.
She's close enough now that he can see her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he's suddenly ashamed and angry with himself. Even in death, he apparently makes her unhappy.
"Harry…"
The way she says his name with the soft, calm voice that he remembers breaks his heart again. She smiles at him slowly, brilliantly.
"What is it with you and getting shot?" she gently teases.
"Am I…?"
"No, my love. It's not your time."
He smiles wanly.
"My timing was always crap, wasn't it?"
"Mine wasn't any better, if you recall."
His blood feels like fire in his veins as he sighs.
"I went to the house. But I couldn't bear it…"
"I know."
He swallows hard and sighs again.
"I miss you…so much, Ruth."
Despite his heavy limbs, he tries to take her hand in his, but encounters nothing but cold air. He hasn't let himself cry since that first day for fear that he would never stop, but now the tears stream silently down his face, unchecked. He shakes his head, angrily. They stare at each other in silence, drinking in the sight of one another. He idly wonders if this is just a hallucination, the product of some painkiller cocktail. If that's the case, he's determined to convince the doctors to continue this as long as possible.
"It wasn't your fault, Harry."
"I should have stopped him…protected you…"
It was her turn to shake her head.
"It was about time someone to protected you for a change."
"I should have said it…"
"You didn't need to. Even if you had, it wouldn't have made any of this any easier."
"I love you."
"I love you, Harry Pearce."
He wants to stay like this for eternity, but the pain and exhaustion is making it hard for him to stay awake, talk. She knows how hard he's fighting, and his familiar stubbornness is reassuring, despite the fact that she is beyond the need for reassurance.
"Rest now, my love."
"Can't I…?"
"You still have a lot of living to do, Harry."
He vehemently shakes his head.
"Catherine needs you. Graham needs you, too. Be happy. I'll still be here, when you're ready."
He blinks away the tears, desperate for her.
"I'm always with you, Harry. Always."
His eyes close for a moment.
"It's so hard…"
"I know, my love, I know. Just rest."
"I love you."
He closes his eyes, and a sudden chill descends over his body.
"I'm so proud of you."
When he wakes again much later, he sees nothing but the bare walls of his hospital room, but his heart is soothed by the faint but unmistakable scent of sea air in his nostrils.