Oxfordshire, England
August 2015

I'm glad to see you're still alive

Softly, I knock on the door, before opening it and slipping into the room. A quick look tells me that Ken's family is gathered inside already. Owen is on the phone and raises a hand in greeting. Persis is lounging on an armchair and beams widely at me. Teddy is typing something into his own phone, but looks up to nod and smile when he hears me enter.

The true surprise, however, is Leslie.

She looks like… a whole other person.

I've seen her in good times and I've got glimpses of her when she went through bad phases, but I've never seen her like this. These past few months, she was tired, drained and pale, as if devoid of colour. Now, she is… golden.

Her face is bright, her eyes are sparkling, her smile is contagious and when I look at her, I know without a doubt why some people call her the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Rilla!" she exclaims and holds out both hands to me. "Such a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Uh, yes." I nod, feeling slightly befuddled. "Very nice."

Leslie laughs a bright, tingling laugh. "Of course it is!"

Her happiness is catching and I find myself smiling back at her instinctively, even though I'm not sure whether this day is unreservedly beautiful. When I woke up this morning, I certainly felt a whole bundle of emotions so complex and contradictory I couldn't even begin to unravel them.

Owen says his goodbyes to the person he's been speaking to (did I hear the name of the Prime Minister?) and lowers the phone. "Hello Rilla," he greets me warmly while coming closer and briefly laying a hand on my shoulder.

Turning to look at his children, he asks, "Are you two ready? It's time to leave."

Teddy slips his phone into his pocket and ambles over to us, giving me a grin as he does. Persis follows slower, quietly cursing her crutches when they don't want to do as she intends them to do. When she has reached us, Owen puts a supporting hand beneath her elbow and guides her from the room, with the rest of us following suit. As we walk, Leslie briefly takes my hand and squeezes it tightly.

In the courtyard there are three sleek dark limousines waiting for us, plus some motorbikes and several SUVs to carry the staff accompanying us and the incalculable number of PPOs needed to protect all members of the main royal family. Next to one of the SUVs, I spot Hanson and wave at him, to be rewarded with a smile from him and a returning wave from Butcher who stands by his side.

"God, I can't tell you how glad I'll be to finally go back to my usual security detail," Teddy mutters, sighing to underline the heaviness of his load.

I smile at him, half sympathetic and half amused. With Ken gone, Teddy was the designated heir and was accorded the protection usually given to his brother. As he generally prefers flying under the radar, I can only imagine how relieved Teddy must be to have his security team scaled back to its normal size again after today.

Having successfully deposited Persis and her crutches in a limousine, Owen returns to escort Leslie to one of the others. Teddy and I join Persis in her car, with Teddy grumblingly finding himself caught in the middle, much to his sister's delight. The third limousine follows without passengers, to be used only on the return drive.

Riding in a motorcade with four fifth of the main royal family is certainly an experience. It's not quite up to presidential standards as seen in the US, but it's certainly something. Through the tinted windows, I can see people looking and pointing, with the tourists snapping their inevitable pictures. Not only does this motorcade get you noticed though, it's also much faster than having to navigate traffic in a normal car. Those police officers on their motorbikes certainly do a fine job of quickly blocking intersections and shooing other drivers to the side to make space for us.

Thus, we reach the motorway quicker than I thought we would. Teddy keeps the conversation going in a nice and easy way, with Persis and me chiming in sporadically, making the time pass reasonably quickly as we continue driving north-easterly. We pass by High Wycomb, where Ken was posted before he went off on his Cypriot jaunt, before driving through the Chiltern Hills and past Oxford until we finally reach the very outskirts of the Cotswolds.

Leaving the A40, we continue for a few minutes along winding country roads, past fields and thatched cottages, before swinging right towards our destination.

Welcome to Royal Air Force Station
BRIZE NORTON

The cars sweep past the welcome sign and through the gates. I take a deep breath.

"Excited?" asks Teddy and when I turn to look at him, I see him smiling kindly.

"Yes," I reply automatically and muster a smile in return. "Of course."

Persis drums her fingers against her cast. "I'm excited!" she informs us decidedly. "It's been too effing long."

Yes, it has been.

Our cars comes to a halt and when I turn back to the window I see that Leslie and Owen have already exited theirs and are being greeted by a phalanx of uniformed people.

"That's our cue," comments Teddy and motions for me to open the car door. Both he and I climb out before he quickly rounds the car to help Persis with the crutches. I hover by the open car door for a moment until I notice Owen waving for me to come closer.

"This is Rilla Blythe, my son's partner," he introduces me, lightly putting a hand on my back to propel me forward. "Rilla, this is Air Chief Marshall Higgin. He's Chief of the Air Staff and thus the highest-ranking active officer in the air force."

"Miss Blythe, it's nice to meet you" greets a man with his chest full of medals and holds out a hand to me.

I take the offered hand and shake it briefly. "How do you do, Sir?"

"This is Group Captain Bevan, commander of RAF Brize Norton," continues Owen and indicates the next man in line. "And finally, we have Wing Commander Montrose, who commands Ken's squadron." He nods at the third man standing in front of us.

"It must be an exciting day for you, Miss Blythe," remarks Group Captain Bevan. When he smiles, his eyes crinkle up.

I procure an easy laugh from somewhere deep within me. "You've kept him to yourself for quite some time," I joke. I don't feel much like joking, but this is not the time or place to lose composure.

"Guilty as charged," acknowledges Group Captain Bevan and has the good grace to look contrite.

"I'm sure he'd agree with that," chimes in Wing Commander Montrose. "He never does shut up about you, Miss."

I swallow, but make sure to put an amused-looking smile on my face. "Which is as it should be, isn't it?"

"Very much so, Miss," agrees Wing Commander Montrose.

"Absolutely!" adds Owen, briefly squeezing my arm and giving me smile.

(Leslie, I notice, is standing a few steps away and doesn't pay us any attention, instead letting her eyes drift as if she expects Ken to materialise from behind a pillar at any moment.)

"You'll have him all to yourself very soon," Group Captain Bevan promises. "We're expecting the plane any minute now."

I don't know what to say to that, so I just smile vaguely. I'm saved by Persis and Teddy coming up behind us and quickly turn to offer a stabilising hand to a wobbling Persis.

"Ah, the Duke of Kendal!" exclaims Air Chief Marshall Higgins loudly. "We've all been wondering when you will join our ranks! I have a bet going with General Williams of the Army and Admiral Paget of the Navy which branch you will chose. They think it's their turn, but obviously, I'd like the set!"

Teddy freezes.

"And the Princess Royal," adds Air Chief Marshall Higgins, oblivious to Teddy's discomfort. "Naturally, it'll be the cavalry for you!" He laughs loudly at what he appears to consider a good joke.

Persis flinches and stares at the man uncomprehendingly.

Thankfully, Owen steps in, saving his children from having to respond. "It'll be a while before Persis can get on a horse again," he points out and puts a reassuring hand on Persis's shoulder. "Won't it, darling?"

She nods quickly, her eyes nervously flitting between the officers and her father.

"And before anyone talks about claiming this son of mine, maybe you should give us the other one back first?" Owen suggests with a conspiratorial smile, and puts his other hand on Teddy's shoulder, causing him to visibly relax.

It's a masterclass in evasion and, as so often with Owen, I marvel at his ability to command pretty much any situation at will.

"We will," replies Group Captain Bevan with a look at this watch. "In fact, shall we proceed to the airfield? We're expecting them to land within the next five minutes."

That succeeds in drawing Leslie's attention and making her come closer. "Oh, could we?" she asks with a grateful smile.

Group Captain Bevan blinks, clearly needing a moment to gather himself after having Leslie's brightest smile bestowed upon him. "Uh, yes. This way, please," he manages after a second or two and motions for us to come with him.

Thus, we follow him in what must look like a curious parade of royals and royal aides, police officers and military officers. (And me, I guess.) We pass through a depressingly nondescript building to the large, open airfield on the other side. We're obviously the last group to arrive, for not only are there lots of air force people rushing around, they've also gathered the other families by the side of the airfield. Next to them, there's a cordon for the press.

"What are they doing here?" grumbles Persis, who's hobbling next to me, and glares in the general direction of the press pen.

Teddy quickly slips between his sister and the photographers. "Too good a PR opportunity to pass up," he explains. "I imagine it was probably also part of the deal we struck with them to make them keep Ken's deployment under wraps until now."

He looks from his sister to me, before adding, "They're not interested in you anyhow, Pers, so just try not to murder them with your glare and you should be fine."

No. Clearly, it's me they'll have their cameras trained on, which is what Teddy meant to imply. I smile wryly at him and he shrugs, his expression sympathetic.

We stop in a place that gives us prime view of the airfield and gives the photographers prime view of us. They start snapping away immediately and I make sure to look suitably happy and excited, even though my insides are curling in a way that makes me feel vaguely nauseous.

Group Captain Bevan talks quietly to another man in a uniform, before stepping up to Owen and announcing, "They're landing, Sir."

He needn't have said it though, because the noise overhead is impossible to miss and when I look up, I see a grey airplane breaking through the clouds.

I keep my eyes glued to the plane, my heart suddenly beating twice as fast. Dimly, I'm aware of a cold, slender hand taking mine and squeezing hard. When I quickly look over at her, I see Leslie giving me a nervous smile that I can't seem to return, before we both turn back to the plane as if on cue.

Moments later, the wheels touch the ground, then there's the sound of the brakes as it starts slowing down. It rolls for a while longer, before finally coming to a halt right in front of us.

I take a deep breath.

Here we go.

Or, we don't really, because the military does everything orderly and by the rules. If I expected soldiers to rush from the plane to their loved ones, it turns out I was sorely mistaken. Instead, they deplane in perfect order to gather on the tarmac and while some of them sneak glances and wide smiles at their families, they stay in formation while their superior officers greet them and say a few nice and inconsequential words.

Of course, I have no trouble picking Ken from the line-up, even at this considerable distance and with his back turned to us. I know him, will always know him. That, I guess, doesn't change.

Leslie, too, has recognised him, I think. She's staring straight at the soldiers, her eyes practically glued to the one we both know to be Ken. She's also still grasping my hand tightly and the only silver lining is that I've lost feeling in that hand a while ago, so at least it doesn't hurt anymore.

Finally, the soldiers are released and immediately, the rushing starts. There's fathers swooping up their children, daughters hugging their parents, boyfriends twirling their girlfriends in the air and wives kissing their husbands. It's everything it should be and it makes my heart do a weird little spin.

Ken doesn't rush. He hangs back for a moment longer to talk to some officers, while Air Chief Marshall Higgins approaches us and indicates for Leslie and Owen to follow him. When he does, a shiver goes through Leslie and it needs Owen putting and arm around her shoulders to get her to start walking. The photographers, who so far took lacklustre pictures of all the other reunions, immediately focus their lenses on them and start snapping as many pictures as possible.

I flex my hand and rub my numb fingers, as I watch Owen and Leslie approach their son. On my other side, Teddy briefly touches my elbow and I smile quickly at him, before turning back to Ken and his parents.

For an agonising moment, they stand in front of each other and I almost think they will do something ridiculous like shaking hands, but then I see Ken relaxing his posture ever so slightly and I'm not the only one seeing it. Leslie still remains standing, as if frozen in place, but Owen steps forward to embrace his son – and Ken accepts the hug. Owen lightly claps his back and seems to say something, to which Ken nods, before turning towards his mother. Leslie raises her hand to cover her mouth, maybe to cover a sob, but Ken just draws her into a hug as well and kisses her cheek, holding her for several moments.

When Leslie steps back, dabbing at her eyes with both hands, Teddy lightly nudges me in the side. "Your turn."

I look at him, feeling unsure. "Don't you two – ?"

Persis interrupts me with a laugh. "He doesn't want to see us," she informs me and leans around Teddy to poke me in the leg with one of her crutches.

"He really doesn't," agrees Teddy, grinning and swatting the crutch away. "He wants you."

He nods towards Ken and when I turn back, I can see that Ken is, indeed, looking at me over his mother's shoulder. He might be talking to his parents, but his attention has shifted to me, one way or another.

When I start walking towards him, I'm acutely aware of all the people around us. Some of the family reunions probably still go on, but I know that a lot of them are looking at me, just as the officers and the rest of the air force people are watching me as well – not to mention the photographers. This is what they've been waiting for today and if the wild clicking is anything to go by, they will document it, down to every little fraction of a second.

I know they're watching, but I don't look at them. I keep my eyes locked on Ken and he doesn't look away from me either. Absent-mindedly, I notice Leslie and Owen stepping back to give us privacy. Ken starts walking as well, meeting me part of the way.

We both stop just feet from one another, as if by some unspoken agreement. For an incalculable number of seconds, we just stand there, silently, our gazes locked.

(He's different and at the same time, he isn't really. He's tanner than before, that's for sure. Slimmer and leaner, too. There are shadows beneath his eyes that weren't there before. He looks tired. He also looks terrified.)

"You're here," Ken finally states quietly. "You're here."

"I am," I reply and it feels like it means so much more than the mere words convey.

He shakes his head slightly, as if in disbelief. "I wasn't sure… I mean, I couldn't be sure…"

"No," I agree calmly. "You couldn't be sure. And yet, here I am. Still."

"You are." He lets go of a long breath. "You're here."

(Did he really think I wouldn't come?)

"So are you," I point out. "Safe and healthy and in one piece."

Alive.

"I said I would come back," Ken reminds me. "I promised."

I could tell him that this wasn't a promise he had much control over keeping, but I don't. Instead, I try to smile and don't succeed. "And I said I wouldn't leave, that I'd be here when you return."

"You did." Ken nods slowly. "And you said that after my return, we'd see where we go from there."

"I did say that," I acknowledge.

We're still standing in front of each other, several feet apart, not touching, and frankly, it's starting to feel ridiculous.

Ken swallows and I can see that he doesn't know whether to dare ask me where we do take it from here or whether he'd rather not know.

"You could start by giving me a hug," I suggest, letting my instinct take over because my mind is too confused to be trusted.

"May I?" he asks, more uncertain than I've seen him in a long time. (Maybe ever.)

I incline my head. "You may always give me a hug." It's meant to be a bit of a joke, but it's weak and my voice is shaking a little too much for me to really pull off the teasing.

Ken, accordingly, doesn't laugh or even smile. Instead, he takes a few steps closer, still watching me intently, and raises his arms half-way in the invitation of a hug.

It's me who crosses the final distance and steps into his embrace. It feels weird at first, like we don't know how to fit anymore, but then his arms come up to pull me close and I nestle my face in the crook of his neck and it feels more natural. He turns his head to kiss my temple, brushing his nose against my cheek as he burrows his face in my hair. His arms are wrapped around my back and I raise mine to snake them around his shoulders, lightly brushing my fingertips against the back of his neck.

(He doesn't smell like he used to and that throws me for a moment, but then I remind myself where he came from. It's natural for some things to be different. It'll pass. It'll go back to normal, with time, just as everything will go back to normal once enough time has passed.)

Around us, the world continues doing what it does, but it could be standing still for all I care. My own world has shrunk, momentarily limited to Ken and to this hug, to feeling and hearing and knowing him. I do still know him, despite everything. I will always know him and there's something reassuring about the steadiness of that thought.

I couldn't begin to say how long the embrace lasts, but it's enough for the tension to leave Ken's body, for his breath to even out and his heartbeat to slow down. When I finally shift and he opens his arms to release me, he is a lot calmer than he was when he stepped off the plane.

"And now?" he asks, his eyes searching my face.

"Now we'll go back there so you can see your siblings, after which I imagine we will return to London," I answer, knowing fully well that that wasn't what he was asking.

Ken opens his mouth, but I shake my head and add, "We'll see."

A moment passes, before he nods. "Fair enough. This isn't the time or place. I just wanted to make sure…"

"Yes?" I prompt when he trails off.

"I am allowed to hug you always?" he asks and when he does, there's a little glint in his eyes and it's so familiar that for a moment, I think I might cry.

"You are," I reply, blinking back the tears that are threatening and instead smiling tentatively. Ken gives me a smile of his own and somewhere in my chest, my heart clenches.

I reach for his hand. (It's warm and dry and steady and a little more calloused than I remember.) "Come on," I encourage. "Let's go see Persis and Teddy."

He follows me willingly, only briefly hesitating when we come close enough to the press pen to hear what the photographers are saying.

"Was that it?" one of them asks loudly. "Not very passionate, eh?"

"Couldn't have given us a kiss, could you?" adds another one.

"Yeah, give her a smooch, Ken!" a third one suggests, laughing.

I feel Ken pause, but tuck at his hand to keep him moving. "Ignore them," I murmur, without turning my head to look at him or them. "They're just trying to get a rise out of you. Don't let them. Just ignore it. There's nothing they hate more."

For a moment, I think he won't, but then he sighs and follows my lead, despite the photographers continuing to hackle him in voices just loud enough for us to hear. Ken's hand clenches around mine (luckily, I offered him the one Leslie didn't already squeeze to mush), but I can feel his gaze on me, thus knowing he isn't looking at them.

He keeps my hand in his even when we've reached his siblings and I try to step away to give them space. One hand holding mine, it means his one-armed hug to Teddy becomes a bit awkward, not to mention the embrace he bestows upon Persis and her crutches. Not that they care either way though. They both look at him with that sort of awe I've seen before where Ken is concerned. Teddy is smiling and Persis is grinning, even when Ken teases her about her crutches. (There's just about no-one else who's allowed to do that.)

Leslie and Owen stick close, too. She remains by Ken's other side, sporadically reaching up to touch his arms or straighten is already straight uniform. There's something blazing in her expression and she doesn't move her eyes from him, as if she's terrified that he'll disappear if she does as much as let him out of her sight. Owen stands a few steps further back and while he responds to the people around us, ever the consummate statesman, his gaze, too, is always drawn back to Ken. There's love there and pride and something I can't quite put my finger on, as is often the case with him.

Regardless, Owen's reaction and Leslie's, too, (maybe especially Leslie's) make me wonder whether I should step aside and give them this moment, but when I try to, it becomes clear that Ken has other ideas. After releasing my hand when I tug at it, he quickly slips an arm around my waist instead, to pull me closer to his side.

"Hug," he whispers quietly by way of explanation and smiles.

I nod, mustering a smile of my own. A hug is a hug and I promised.

Thus, I stay by his side for the rest of our stay at Brize Norton. It takes longer than it rightfully should until every hand has been shaken and every salute taken, but then, everyone always wants a piece of the royals, even when they don't feel much like giving. They're gracious about it, as usual, but I can see relief in everyone's faces when we've finally made it back to the cars. It's the same relief I myself feel. I don't know why, but I feel utterly drained, and I desperately want to get out from under these curious gazes.

Despite Leslie's clear reluctance to be separated from him again, it seems to be a done deal that Ken and I will share the third car for the ride back and I gratefully climb into it even as Ken says his final goodbyes. Moments later, he joins me, closes the car door – and then there's silence.

The partition to the front of the car is up, locking out the driver and Beckett on the passenger seat. Behind the tinted windows, the countryside slowly passes by as we pull away from the air force station and along the winding Oxfordshire roads, but it feels unreal, almost detached. Still, I keep looking out of the window, if only so as not to look at Ken.

"So…" he finally begins after several minutes and I know he's needed this long to work up the nerve. "Where do we go from here?"

I continue staring out of the window as my thoughts go a-jumble. You'd think that in six months, I should have come up with an answer to that question, but if I ever got close, it's all blank now. I'm back to square one and I'm as confused as I've ever been.

When I finally turn to Ken, the only thing I know is that I have nothing to say.

"Let's not do this now," I tell him, hoping I sound more confident than I feel. "I'm tired and I can only guess how tired you must be. We've been apart for so long and you just came back and… let's just not do this now."

Ken takes a deep breath. "Okay. And what –?"

"A hug," I interrupt him quickly, before he can ask any more questions I can't answer. "Let's start with a hug. We're good at those."

Briefly, his eyes search my face, but then there's a soft smile on his face and a sudden ache in my chest. "A hug," he repeats. "A hug sounds good."

He opens his arms and I unbuckle my seatbelt to scoot closer to him, burrowing into his embrace. He holds me close, his lips brushing against my forehead, his breath fanning over my skin. I close my eyes tightly, allowing myself to sink into the hug and as I do, it almost feels like it used to. (Only his smell still isn't quite like it was before.)

This is what I concentrate on. I concentrate on him, on his embrace, on the fact that he's back and alive and that I'm happy that he is. Because as long as I concentrate very hard on all that, I can almost ignore his question, still echoing in my mind.

Where do we go from here?


The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts' (written by Bob Dylan, released by him in 1975).


To Guest:
Leslie wasn't correct in the way she brushed off Rilla's concerns in the previous chapter, but as you said, she's bound to have a different perspective. If she allowed herself to think the thoughts Rilla thinks, she'd have to be irritated with Ken (and then would surely feel guilty for being irritated with him) and that's not a feeling she knows how to deal with. Their relationship is so complicated and she is still so unwell that, emotionally, she couldn't deal with the implications of what Rilla said. That's why she pulled back from that controversial subject and pretended everything was fine. For her, I think that was a protective mechanism as much as anything.
Rilla did indeed stand up for herself! It was about time, wasn't it? She's had to take a lot of crap from the royals and the royal staff in the last few months and this was the final straw, I think. She's been leaning that way for a while, most notably since Di's wedding, so at some point, her anger wasn't to be bottled in anymore. As it's justified anger though, that's absolutely a good thing! =)

To AnneShirley:
Hello! It's so nice to hear from you again! I'm always happy when you get in touch, but I absolutely understand school keeping you busy and I'm very sorry about your family member. Cancer is such an awful illness and so tough to go through. I hope your family member will rally and feel better soon!
The equestrian terminology is really an interesting case. I think it's less about content and more that I've never had reason to speak Horse in English, so I don't know the terms or vocabulary Horse, it turns out, is a very specific way of expressing yourself in any language. You use normal words but you piece them together in a way that make no sense to a non-horsey person. When I talk Horse in German, I confuse many a person not in the know, and I imagine it's not dissimilar in English. The terminology is just so specific and not something you have any use for in unrelated situations. Add to that that most online dictionaries are not fluent in Horse and it didn't make my life any easier!
I actually think that Leslie does understand Rilla (as you point out correctly, she's been in a similar situation when Owen fought in the Falklands) and what it means for her to sit and wait. Leslie had it easier in that Owen was sent to fight by his mother, wheras Ken was pushing for it himself, so his departure is harder to take. With Ken, they all have to face up to the fact that he put himself and his desire to fight first - even at the cost of hurting those who care for him. For Leslie, with her fragile health and her complicated relationship with Ken, that's hard to accept, so it's easier for her just not to go there.
That rant, while cut short, would have been justified. I had to laugh at the Whatsapp group though. Imagine what that would look like! ;)