A/N: Hi everyone! After the end of Poldark over here in the US, I had a brake down. So, that means I wrote a little rant that I decided to post. It's pretty much a recap (which means MAJOR SPOILERS for those who haven't read or watched Poldark) from Demelza's POV with a ending of my own, because I sure couldn't leave it like THAT for 9 months!

Enjoy!

Demelza sat up in her bed at Nampara and stifled the tears threatening to spill from behind her eyes. She tried her best to take deep, even breaths to calm herself.

But even peace couldn't numb the pain. It couldn't be healed. They were open wounds that would scar after a while. A long while it seemed, especially with no one to comfort her. There was nobody there. Well, except for Jinny and Garrick, but they couldn't help her this time. So, she was alone in her house. The house she had been brought into with kindness, given a real job, had her first kiss, became a wife and lady, where the love of her life confessed his love, gave birth to her daughter, and celebrated along side her husband on their success with the smelting company, their family, and their love.

The house was also where her idea of seeing Captain Blamey started. That one idea was a desease that she'd nursed and grown. It had led to loosing the smelting company, tearing two cousins relationship to shreds, loosing the trust of her Ross for who knows how long, and her own daughter's death. She'd never seen it coming; not in a life time. She never would have done it.

She straightened her back and wiped her damp face with a cloth. Her eyes were pink and swollen as she stole a glance at her late daughter's bed. Julia's bed. She'd never use it again, never smile or laugh again, never know what the world could offer, never find love, never settle down and have kids of her own, never to breathe again. This world indeed had wicked things to brew and throw at anyone and everyone passing by.

Especially the good. Why was that? All she had wanted, had ever wanted, was to help people. She wanted others to be blessed and happy. So she'd lied to her husband and reunited her cousin-in-law with her love, the Captain.

At least they're happy, she thought sanguinely. At what cost? her despondent side deprecated. Tis done. Can't change, won't change. No matter how many times she prayed to God. He wouldn't do it. Her decision had been made, and here she sat, lying in the consequences.

Not to say she hadn't tried to fix what she'd done. She'd gone over to Trenwith and admitted her responsibility in Verity and Blamey's elopement to take the blame off Ross. She'd gone back over when they'd gotten Putrid Throat and nursed them back to health to aid in the restoration of their broken family. She'd told Ross what she'd been doing to gain back a smidgen of trust lost. She'd always tried her best to provide and bring about a smile when she could.

But that wasn't enough. In fact, it'd caused her and her family great pain. She'd contracted Putird Throat, and so had her baby. Her Julia. Their precious little girl. Demelza shut her eyes against the thought, as if to block it out some how, as if it didn't happen.

But it did. Ross rode out to Dr. Dwight's when they'd found out late that night while she slipped into a coma. Her dreams were as harmful as the sickness. The hardships in the streets, her father and Ross scolding her on her choices and ignorance, and the worst, Elizabeth telling her to let go because Ross would rather be with her.

It was all so real at the time, but when she awoke she knew it was just memories crossed with her fears. Or at least until she saw Elizabeth at her side. The other Mrs. Poldark had only tried to aid her, but in her stomach she felt she knew her true propose. To take Ross.

When she'd next awoke, it was Ross she saw. He was bent over the bed, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. But she'd only found fear, and expressed it to her beloved. The next words she heard made her body relax, and gave her peace: "No, no, my love. She will never take me."

In that moment, everything was right with the world again. But moments come and go like the wind carrying the clouds in sky. The next gush of air came in, bringing with it the biggest storm clouds she had seen. Julia had died, and she wasn't even with her.

All Demelza could do was cry into her husband's chest as he embraced her shaking form.

The next thing she knew was them standing at the coast. The wind blew into their faces as she spoke about taking heart in their nephew's health. And even asking her lover to restore the relationship with his cousin. He'd agreed, reminding her of how generous she was, always seeing the good and putting him to shame.

"So there is hope. Then it was not for nothin' after all," she'd said through her tear-stained heart.

It was then that she relinquished Julia's ribbon to the wind. They watched it blow off the coast and fly above the Cornish sea.

Demelza cried another of many tears and wrapped the bed sheets around herself in an attempt for comfort. Comfort like she'd received from Ross as she'd once again cried into the nape of his neck as he held her close.

Of course, she didn't get such comfort from the sheets. She may never get it again.

Before long the soldiers had come. George Warleggan had accused Ross of terrible things he hadn't done. Wrecking, rioting, and murder.

The soldiers took him away without a thought. Without hesitation. As if they willed his condemnation.

She and Ross had held each other's desperate gaze until they could see the other no more. They left her at that cliff on the coast, the wind blowing as hard as her mind was racing.

All she knew was that she was alone. Alone as the world fell apart around her. She had no one to cling to. No one to tell her things would be alright. No one to cry into. No one to comfort her.

Demezla knew there would be a trial. And she knew the consequences of her husband being found guilty: execution. They wouldn't wait a day after they'd condemned him to follow through. They'd have a noose ready to tighten around his neck before night fall.

Another deep wave of sorrow and despair crashed down on Demelza, forcing her to double over as she pictured Ross' death.

"No," she whispered defiantly. Her voice gained wavering strength and firmness: "No!"

Demelza sat up straight and spoke boldly. Whether it be to God, or fate, or the judges, or George, or the Devil himself she didn't know. But she meant it with all that she was: "Ya'll not take em. He will not die. Ye won't put em t'death! I'm not gonna sit and watch; I'm gonna get em back. Wait 'n see. He's an innocent man and 'ee will not take him from me. I'm gonna be there when he's released from tha' courtroom to take em home.

"We can and will. We'll make things right with Frances! We'll prosper in the mines! We'll start our fam'ly over again! We'll live good lives together!"

She paused to muster all of her courage, hope, and faith, throwing in her iron spirit and upmost defiance. She leaned into the air as if she was speaking into the listener's ear: "I think you've got a fight on your hands."

Demelza threw the sheets to the side and got out of bed. She'd made up her mind and was going to take action, and now.

She strode through the house and almost made it to the entry way when Jinny stopped her: "Ma'am? Where ye going?"

Demelza halted and looked the young woman in the eyes, "I'm gonna find out when Ross'll be put on trial."

"But ma'am-" Jinny's plea was one of immense doubt as if to shake her of false hope.

Demelza wouldn't hear of it. She had just snuffed out that thought; she would dwell on it no longer. " Both ways can happen. Which means he can be found innocent, or at least spared. We have to trust in that, Jinny."

With a soft resolution, she assured herself and her servant of the fragile hope, "He's coming home, whether it be now or later. Start preparing dinner. I won't be gone too long. I'm taking Seamus."

Her servant's eyes filled with a yearning to console what she thought was her mistress' desperate heartache.

But she was wrong.

Grabbing her cloak with a final nod, Demelza slipped out the door. She had one thought on her mind as she strode to the stable, No matter this mess, there's hope. The Warleggans will have to learn that they can't hurt us. This'll only make us stronger. We'll look back at these past few weeks an' smile. Cause we made it. And will continue to make it, together.

A/N: I hope that helps a little with the Poldark withdrawals and leaves you on a better note. BTW, the actual novels are really good if you need some more Poldark to hold you over!

Trivia: Anyone remember that scene from Being Human UK where George tells Wyndham, "I think you've got a fight on your hands." ? Well, that's where I got that from. It seemed a bit appropriate considering Aidan's character's circumstances.

If you liked it, PLEASE REVIEW! It would make my day...