AN: This is for my partner in crime, Rosetintedblindness for not only sharing in my insanity but also offering her views and opinions on this.
A bit nervous about sharing this as it's a bit different than anything I've written or seen in the fandom so far.
The first time you see him is across the market.
It's warm; almost 35 degrees; and so you wonder if you're seeing things.
But no, as you stand there holding your beetroots, you realize that you are not seeing things.
Harry Pearce is really standing across the square from you. For the first time in almost 2 years, you see the man you left behind. The one who might have been.
He looks good.
Relaxed, tan, and above all – alive.
You're wondering what he's doing there and if you should go to him. After all, he may be there looking for you. Perhaps they've finally cleared your name and it's safe for you to return.
And he's come for you.
A smile is forming on your face when you're bumped from behind.
"Ω, με συγχωρείτε." (Oh, excuse me)
You turn your head and mutter it's alright. The man behind you smile and gestures with his hand to the table with the beetroots. With a blush, you look at the two in your hands and step aside. As he moves to pick his own vegetables from the table, you glance up.
Only to find Harry's left.
Its two days later that you see him for the second time. That's not to say you haven't been discreetly looking for him, but a check of the area inns show no Harry Pearce; or any of the other legends that you're aware of; registered. This means he's there under yet another name.
With all your low-key searches and subsequent failures, you've felt a warmth and happiness growing inside.
His desire to be under the radar surely means that he's there for you. If not to bring you home, at least to see you.
That thought does raise some concern for if he's managed to track you down, what is keeping everyone else from? But it's soon squelched as you realize you've never let anyone as close to you as you have Harry over the years.
And so you continued with your searches for him.
But it seems as though they were all in vain as he's managed to appear yet again.
It's mid-afternoon on your day off from the hospital. And like usual, you're spending the afternoon on the beach, relaxing in the sun with a book.
Today it's Coming Home; a book somewhat appropriate for this period in your life.
Or so you hope
You're sat in your chair at water's edge, the warm waves rushing over your feet as they break the shore. It's a quiet beach, one frequented by locals and less so by tourists. Today, like most weekdays, it's almost empty this far down.
And so when you hear laughter followed by a not so quiet moan, you mark your place in the book and look up. There's no one by the water's edge, or even on the surrounding beach, and so you're more confused. Logically you know it is more than likely two teenagers playing hooky from school to be together away from the watchful eyes of their family.
But still, something is nagging at you to investigate.
And so you stand, placing your book safely in the seat of your vacated chair as the wind whips through the long sundress you're wearing. Feet bare, you walk further up the shoreline towards the cliffs, your hand shading your eyes from the bright sun.
As you near the cliffs; just twenty feet to your left; you see two people locked in an embrace.
Teenagers, you think to yourself as you shake your head.
And yet…
You freeze in spot as you realize that it is, in fact not teenagers, but an older couple. What's more, you know at least one of the participants.
Because while you cannot see the man's face, you would know that back anywhere. Albeit the lack of shirt; and trousers for that matter; had thrown you for a moment, yes, but the build and stance are still the same.
And just like that, the happy warmth you'd been feeling inside fades.
As his hands slide along the bare torso of his companion, fingers teasingly sliding beneath the tie-strings of her red bikini top, you watch his lips follow the line of her jaw. If that's not enough, you can just see her hand slipping into his black swim trunks. You're close enough now that you can hear his low moan of approval as he pushes against her.
It's too much for you and a sob escapes your lips before you can catch it. You see him freeze at the intrusion of a seemingly private moment and begin to turn.
Not wanting him to see you, you turn, stuffing a fist in your mouth as you flee to your chair. You hear him exclaim your name in a mix of confusion and wonder. But you don't stop.
Grabbing your book and chair from the foamy surf, you come to a decision. It's time to move on, to give up hope on what might have been. And accept the offer of dinner with the doctor. As you wind your way home along remote paths, you resolve to try and live.
You see him one last time.
Early the next morning you're in the market again.
Looking through the beetroots.
This time when you see him across the plaza, you move behind the tent pillar, careful to hide your person from his wandering gaze.
And you know this time he's looking for you.
But it's too late. Harry Pearce has moved on.
And so will you.
I apologize for the ... overall plot of this. My muse came up with it driving into work this morning and wouldn't let it go. That said - I am working on a much happier, M-rated piece in this same format called 'Anywhere But Here' so please leave a review and let me know what you thought of this.