Twenty-five:
Living in Limbo

A year changed everything.

From Angela Wells plotting to destroy everything to Rose breaking her arm to Daisy getting taller and calming down a bit, life had been chaotic. Work was an ever-changing landscape of good and evil, and Ruth was tired of fighting the good fight. Home was an ever-changing dynamic with the girls getting older and their personalities becoming more and more distinct. Colleagues came and went, and Ruth mourned more than she'd ever thought possible.

Harry had been suspended and had gone to live in a safehouse for that time. She had missed him more in that week than she had in their years apart.

They'd been trying, trying so hard for a baby, and it seemed at one point like it was going to happen – only for disappointment to set in. The emotional roller coaster never stopped and never seemed to slow down for them.

And now…

Now Cotterdam and Mik Maudsley and Oliver Mace – god, how she hated him.

And at the very heart of everything was Harry and her absolute, undying, unyielding love for him.

She sat in the frigid air beside Zaf, taking minimal shelter against the worst of the wind against the river wall. "I'm so sorry I dragged you into this," Ruth whispered. "I am. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"We never mean for anything bad to happen," Zaf assured her quietly.

"Harry needs to be there," she said. "He needs to stand on the wall – I'm not strong enough. None of the rest of us are strong enough without him there."

"Ruth –"

She smiled sadly and said, "At Havensworth, we had separate rooms because we needed to keep to work. And I've never… I've never felt so alone, Zaf. Not till now. Because now I know I might never see him again and it hurts worse than anything."

He reached round her back and held her, gently, like a dear friend would. "We will prove you innocent," Zaf promised in a voice without guile or pretence. "And then you'll have Harry again. You'll be able to come home."

Ruth looked over at him and murmured, "Is it… is it so terrible that I'm not worried about Rose and Daisy because I know he'll be the father they need when I'm gone?"

"No," Zaf whispered. "Not at all."

She swallowed hard and exhaled, trying not to cry again. Her emotions were all over the place, and she was living on adrenaline like a junkie needing a fix. And soon, that would be all that was left to keep her alive. Adrenaline.

"How much longer?" she whispered.

"Just a few more hours."

She wanted to be angry with him; she wanted to be furious. But all that happened was she felt so relieved when Harry walked down the dock toward her. "I told Adam not to tell you," Ruth said, smiling a little in spite of herself.

"I told him I would sack him if he didn't," Harry said, moving in and drawing her close, warming her up instantly. "Ruth –"

She shook her head and hugged him tight. "No," she whispered. "Don't make it any harder, Harry. Please. Just… just take care of them. Our girls. Make sure they know that I love them so very much and all I want is to be there with them. Make sure they understand that I would never leave them unless it was by force. Okay? Please?"

He inhaled, then exhaled shakily, barely finding voice for his next words. "I will," he promised. "I will be the father I couldn't be for Catherine and Graham."

She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. "I love you, Henry James Pearce," she said very gravely. "And I need you to be brave and stand on that wall for the both of us."

"How am I meant to live without you?" he asked.

She thought she'd run out of tears to cry, but the terrified, wildly vulnerable look in his eyes scarred her very soul. Ruth smiled just a little, and murmured, "You did it before you met me, and you did it for so long after… after that weekend. I think you'll find it easier than you'll admit."

"Come on!" the ferryman shouted.

"I'm coming!" she replied, stroking the contours of his face, his cheeks, committing them to her memory in every way she could. She would never forget the smell of his cologne or his soap; she would never forget the way that he touched her, the way that they fit together; she would never forget the scar on his eyebrow that she focused on when he had her in the throes of intense passion. She would never forget the burning desire of his eyes.

She would never forget him. Never.

Ruth leaned in and kissed him, once, twice, three times, each more intense and desperate than the last. And then she pulled away and whispered, "Harry – I'm never taking off our rings. And I will never break our vows. I love you."

She stepped away, and he said, very softly, "Ruth, if there was any other way –"

"No more 'what ifs'," she said. "This is it; our reality, as cruel as it is. But I'll be waiting for you, when you come for me to tell me my exile is over." Their fingers danced, tangling together one last time, and then she pulled away and turned her back on him.

If she didn't look back over her shoulder, she could stay strong. If she didn't look at her husband, the man she had sacrificed everything for, she could be strong enough to do what she needed to do to stay alive.

And then the boat pulled away from the dock and her resolve wavered. She looked back, and Harry looked so small, so tired, so defeated.

So alone.

Her heart shuddered, lurched, and she felt his pain as keenly as if she'd inflicted it all upon herself as well. And she had, really.

The shock of everything was finally settling in.

And she knew that there was no coming back from this.

il est terminé
(it is finished)