AN: First poem fic, something I've had hanging around unfinished for a while, and which found a perfect ending in 10.6. I've had to use the line-thingies to divide up the verses, though...
Everything has a price. A fact of life that is
Drummed into most people from childhood.
It starts with something quite simple.
The price for not tidying your room is not getting to have
Any of the chocolate cake your mother has baked and the price for not studying
For your maths test is coming bottom of the class.
Later, things become more complicated.
The price for escaping from GCHQ was spying on MI-5, and getting caught by Tom.
The price for working at 5 was the slow loss of feeling, developed just to cope with it all.
The price for enjoying my work was grief every time I lost colleagues who had become like family –
Danny, Zoe, Tom, Fiona, Colin, Zaf, Jo, Ros, Tariq, even Lucas...
The price for being good at my job was being too good, and discovering traitors we believed to be friends.
The price for stopping Mace's victory over Cotterdam was the sacrifice of my own heart.
The price for falling in love with Harry was leaving him.
The price for kissing him goodbye was living with the memory of it in every lonely hotel room between England and Cyprus.
The price for brief happiness with George was guilt every time I thought of Harry.
The price for coming home to him was George's death - Nico's loss.
The price for refusing Harry was the way he aged ten years in ten seconds as I spoke.
And the price for finally being brave is the grass beneath me,
Harry's face above me,
My blood on his hands.