Dear Freddie,
I am trying very hard to put words to what I am feeling...trying and possibly failing.
You have always been the better one of us with words, reciting poems at four in the morning while I listen with a tired ear.
While you were travelling I realised how much I missed that, having you around was a comfort I didn't realise I had.
Now, with you in a coma, it's hard to find that comfort.
You are possible with me. Your words. And I am. But it is hard when you're not awake to witness how possible I am, to witness what I do.
The Hour is doing okay, but it lacks one egotistical and strong-minded journalist. But you've never been egotistical, have you? Not really. I've come to realise that now.
Lately I've been looking back at our friendship, trying to spot what I so blatantly missed.
Camille visited the other day. She told me about the night she left. How you were always home late. I know it's because you love what you do. Camille knows it's also because you love being with me. Your precious Bel as she phrased it. Even your wife realised it's us, that it has always been us, before I did. Tell me it's true? When you wake up, please tell the truth. Tell the story which we have both missed, I more than you.
You found out how I tick years ago and I have done that with you too. I've always believed that the thing that matters most in your life is the story, wherever you might find it.
You've never trusted anyone, always questioning them, even the bloody secret service. But there was a piece of the puzzle that is you that I overlooked all those years we've been friends.
Me. It has always been natural for us to be us, hasn't it? Why question the natural? I didn't. But it seems that you did. But for some reason you didn't bring the question to me, not before last week. I'm assuming you were scared of losing me, us. What we have and what we've always had.
When we started to work at Lime Grove Studio you said "Why didn't you even consider me?"
We were talking about Hector as our presenter. Or so I assumed.
Now I'm wondering if there was a hidden question. The one you had wanted to ask, but never found the right time to say. You chose that moment to dampen the collateral damage, didn't you?
If so, I looked right through it. I said you were too damn ugly. Which is a lie, Freddie, you are not ugly.
Maybe it was a battle between our hearts. Maybe it was a genuine question of why not you, why not us. Maybe I told that lie, that joke, to hide the obvious truth.
You told me we could be possible and then you were gone, chasing the story. Which is so you, Freddie Lyon.
But you didn't let me utter the words I have been wanting to say. I won't say them now. Not until you come back. This will be your incentive, your reason to wake up and my prayer. Or so I hope.
Wake up, Freddie, please wake up and I'll say them as soon as your eyes find mine.
I have been so foolish. Forgive me when you wake up and I'll forgive you for nearly dying and making a mess out of me.
Let us be what you've wanted, what I thought I've wanted but never found. I was always looking straight ahead, searching for a man. But I wasn't looking by my side where you've been all along.
We've made our mistakes, we've waited long enough. Now is our time. We are possible, together. Know that and please wake up.
Yours always,
Bel xx
Freddie smiled as he finished the letter. The pain he felt when he woke up was smaller now. It had all been worth it, somehow. He had to believe that. He was alive and now he would have Bel. He heard the sound of heels against the floor outside in the corridor and he looked up as the door opened. He had no idea how awful he might look, but he still managed a smile.
"Freddie!" Bel exclaimed, dropping the glass of water in her hand. It came down and broke with a shattering sound, but she paid no notice of it.
"It seems your incentive worked, Moneypenny."
"My incentive..?" her mind was only focusing on Freddie, the fact that he was awake, finally.
"You owe me some words." he continued and it seemed as if she finally caught up. She rushed over to his bed and took hold of his hand gently, looking deep into his eyes.
"I hate you for going after Cilenti alone."
"Not those words, we can deal with the banter later. Three little words, Bel. I do believe I deserve them." He looked hopeful and she could not wait any longer. With a smile on her lips and watery eyes she opened her mouth.
"I love you."
"I know. I love you too."
"I know. I hate you."
"I hate you too."
They both smiled and she gently placed her lips on his. It was a soft, but warm kiss and Freddie doubted he'd ever get used to it. They'd crossed the final bridge, the one they should have crossed years ago. Yet it still felt like this was the right time, the right moment. As Freddie brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear he thought what he'd said in the pub. We wouldn't want to be anywhere else...with anyone else.