A/N: Thank you for all your lovely reviews!

The outline of this story has been in my head for some time and it has only been two parts, but now when I finally put "the pen" to the paper I realise two will not be enough to allow them the time they need and make it believable, so this is not the last. Not the first time I change my mind while writing, as you might know.

Sorry for all the sadness but my intention is that there will be light in the end because I can never let it any end other way for these two. Just like with the first part, I would recommend finding the song if you can because in my mind it truly fits with the post-disaster Molly and Charles, and I love it.

I think this is my longest chapter ever and I really poured my heart into it, so I would be very glad to hear what you think.

Chapter 2: Hope

And as the floods move in

And your body starts to sink

I was the last thing on your mind

I know you better than you think

'Cause it's simple darling, I gave you a warning

Now everything you own is falling from the sky in pieces

So watch them fall with you, in slow motion

I pray that you will find peace of mind

And I'll find you another time

I'll love you, another time

Explosions on the day you wake up

Needing somebody and you've learned

It's okay to be afraid

But it will never be the same

Explosions – Ellie Goulding

My entire being is nervousness this beautiful day in May because for the first time in over three years I'm meeting Charles. It was I who took the initiative. I have been thinking about it ever since I broke up with Bones, finally accepted that I need this to close the book that was us or I will be stuck in limbo forever. My psychiatrist has suggested it for a long time, that I need to meet my ex-husband, but I have always refused, until now. I started seeing her after the divorce, realising I had some pretty heavy stuff to deal with. Not only Charles but my own experiences on tour. Sometimes I have wondered, if it had made any difference if I had gone earlier because she has helped me see so many things in a different light. Until now, she has not been able to convince me to face the past full on though. I have not been ready, afraid it will rip open the partially healed wounds instead of healing them, but now I feel I no longer have a choice. I need this, for myself, to be whole person living in the present not with one foot, or my heart, in the past.

I'm not sure what Charles has been up to these years as I did my best to shut out all information about him. I know he stayed in but have no idea if he has been on tours or moved on to a desk job or been promoted. I don't know where he lives, and I do not know if he is still with Georgie or with anyone else. All I know is I need to talk to him, but I'm not even sure what to say. Maybe it is more accurate to say I need to listen to him, finally hear what he has to say. I do not want to, but I need to.

Once I had made up my mind it was not difficult to get in touch with him. He has the same standard army e-mail address he always has had. Mine has changed twice; from Molly Dawes to James and then back again. One of those small things that really hurt because the day I changed it to James I never thought it would change again and changing it back somehow made the breakdown of our marriage even more official than signing the divorce papers.

When I e-mailed and asked if we could meet up he wrote me back in a day. Neither of us asked any questions, neither of us offered any answers. I just asked if he was willing to meet me and he said yes. I guess he felt like me, that everything else ought to wait until we were face to face, but even his neutral answer made my heart jump out of my chest and my body tremble. I despise myself for being so weak that the mere thought of seeing him makes me react that way.

We have decided to meet in a park. He is travelling here from wherever he lives without making any fuss about it, just offered to come. This park is one where I like to go walking and running but not a place where we have any common memories because he has never been here with me, it is part of my life post-him. I hope today will not ruin it, so I will not want to come here again, maybe I should have chosen a place I like less.

I told him to come to the big oak near the hot dog stand and I see him from afar, already waiting. Feelings are flooding over me, so I need to pause and remind myself to breathe, closing my fists tight, pressing the nails into my palms, needing the pain not to turn on the spot and run. I cannot spend a lifetime running, it ends today. His figure is so familiar, from a distance exactly the same. The same man who I fell insanely in love with and who made me feel safe in ways no one had before, the same man who hurt me endlessly and made me hate him, combined in one body. All the emotions he ever evoked in me still combined in my body, keeping me trapped in an emotional prison I cannot escape from. I'm not sure how I will be able to face him.

As if he can feel me observing him, he raises his head slowly, meeting my gaze. I move closer meanwhile we just keep staring, taking each other in, trying to discern what has changed. He looks handsome as ever, wearing jeans and a shirt, a thin knitted pullover thrown over his arm, but he will not be needing that this sunny day. His hair still thick and dark, no greys to be seen and he has not filled out, his body lean the same way it always was, his jawline still as sharp, not softened as it is for many men his age. Yet his face has changed, like he is a bit frayed around the edges. Like he has experienced sorrow and survived, but maybe just barely, no flicker of a smile in the depth of his eyes as it used to be. Or, I'm just imagining, projecting my own feelings. Maybe he simply is older and leads a completely happy and content life and I'm wishing for him to be a little bit miserable because I am.

I'm wondering what he sees when he looks at me. Objectively I know, because I scrutinized myself in the mirror this morning. I do not have any wrinkles yet, still too young, but I was a girl when I walked out on him and now I'm a woman. I thought I was a woman then too, but now I know the difference. I have loved, and I have lost, that changes a person in a way I wish I had not had to experience. I will never be the same.

"Hi", he says warily as I approach him.

"Hi."

Neither of us knowing quite where to start. A hug is definitely not the next move. He dares a little smile and I feel myself achieving a bleak copy.

"Let's walk?" I finally say when we cannot just keep standing looking at each other any longer.

He nods and shoves his hands in his pockets in his usual casual way and it disturbs me how familiar everything about his appearance is after all this time, when in fact I do not know him at all. We stroll, we are in no hurry and we are not going anywhere, and he adapts his long steps to match my pace, the way he always did except when he was angry and when he did not want my company anymore. He stays silent and I guess I must get the conversation started as I was the one to initiate this. He must be wondering what I want with him.

"How have you been?"

"It's good to see you."

He speaks at the same time as me and his first simple words almost make me weep. He may think it is good to see me, but it is not good to see him, because my body is already aching with longing for him and sadness over the way things ended. Luckily, I do not have to say anything, leaving me time to control my feelings, because he chooses to answer my question, although wavering.

"Okay, I guess. Surviving."

He gives up a small, insecure laughter, not typically Charles really. I wonder what his answer really means.

I glance at him sideways. I quite like talk walking because then you do not have to keep staring each other in the eyes the whole time, making it less intensive, less intimidating to say what is on one's mind. But I start with questions that feel safe.

"Where do you live?"

"In Bath and at barracks, Bulford, combined. That way I can see Sam a lot."

I don't dare to ask if he lives alone or with someone. The mentioning of Sam stings in my heart. I left a child I loved behind too, but I did not know what else to do.

"Oh, Sam. I've missed him."

That much is not hard to admit, admitting I missed his dad too is unthinkable.

"He missed you too."

My lovely Sam.

"Was he ever angry with me, for leaving? Did he feel I let him down? Sometimes I have been thinking he must have been so disappointed."

In contrast to with his dad, I had said good bye properly to Sam. Hugged him hard and long while my heart was crumbling and told him that I would have to go away for some time. I had not admitted I never would return, though.

"He was disappointed and sad because he missed you, but he was only angry with me. I told him I had sent you away… I wanted him to know it was my fault you were gone, so he'd never hold it against you."

Sam was six when we met, ten when I left, and we were so close those years. I saw more of him than Charles did due to his many tours and I loved him like he was my own, never thinking he was a borrowed child I one day might have to return. Being reminded he was caught between us makes me immensely sad. Now he must be thirteen, going on fourteen and probably has more important girls than some temporary step-mum to think of.

"He hated me for it for some time", he continues, "and I do not think he ever has forgiven me but at least the relationship is better these days when I see more of him and can be a dad for real."

I can see how the truth would have been no good explanation to a child and I'm glad to hear they have become closer in the end. Part of me is amazed he allowed his son to hate him so he would not hate me. A flutter inside me, nearly every topic has hidden mines threatening to detonate any second. Too many emotions.

"Is he fine otherwise? School? Rugby? Girlfriends?"

He smiles his first real smile, one that is not a grimace, and which reach all the way to his eyes.

"Yeah, despite everything he's turned out great. Doing really well in school and sports and has a lot of friends. Too occupied with all that to pay any real attention to girls yet, but I have a feeling he's breaking quite a few hearts without having a clue."

Sam always looked like a mini-Charles, of course the teenage version is breaking hearts and the thought makes me smile too. I also smile because Charles always has been equally clueless when it came to his own effect on women, but some things are easier to spot in others than in oneself.

"I'm glad to hear it. I wish you could say hi to him from me, but I guess that may tear things up…"

My words trail off, thinking of what Sam might say then. If he still would care or if that was a long time ago, but it is bad enough that I shake my own universe up today, I would not want to move his even an inch if he is happy now. Charles just nods, and I change subject.

"You stayed in?"

"Just barely."

Again, the insecure laughter. He is obviously as uncomfortable as me, maybe he is waiting for me to lash out in fury any second.

"Desk job now though. Long time since I stopped going on tours, don't think I ever will again, it's better this way."

I begged him to stop, but then he would not. It hurts that he made the change he would not do for me for some other reason, maybe for someone else. Except if it was for Sam, but I will not ask.

"I get to see more of Sam", he ads and I exhale. Now I notice that a slight, almost unnoticeable limp is there when he walks.

"How's the leg?"

"Okay, hurts sometimes when there's a weather change. Just like my grandma's, if you remember her? Otherwise fine." He smiles again and so do I, how could I ever forget his grandma, an extraordinary old lady with the same eyes as him. Her birthday is also one of those unnecessary things I remember even if she probably is dead by now, and that she always insisted on champagne with the cake.

"You, Molly?"

He seems to think it is time to interrupt the flow of questions coming from me, even if they so far are of the harmless superficial kind, me trying to navigate to where he is in life now.

"My legs?" I attempt a lame joke, I'm not even sure why. Maybe because panic is lurking under the surface, panic over being here in his presence. I cannot fully grasp he is walking beside me here in the sun.

He bores his eyes into me, I can feel them even if I look straight ahead. Still able to make me feel small the way he did when he was my very displeased captain in the beginning of my first tour.

"How have you been?"

What does he want to know? That I have spent approximately 1211 days trying to get over him, while living a half-miserable life realising I will never trust and love anyone the way I loved him? That I've had three relationships but dropped them like a hot potato the day I realised the guy in question was beginning to fall for me? That I still cannot make love to another man without him being present in the bed? That he might have fucked me up for life but I'm hoping to change that today, or at least take one small step in the right direction?

"Fine."

When I glance at him, I can see in his face that my short answer was not very convincing and to my surprise he looks even sadder. Even if he deserves it, it makes my insides twist.

"Fine?"

"I'm still in the Army. Took one more tour but then I've been mentoring and training of other medics at home. Doing well, my CO wants to recommend me for promotion to be a sergeant, but I declined."

"Why?" he asks with surprise.

"This autumn I'll start studying to be a nurse."

"Leave the Army?"

"Yeah, I think it's about time."

He does not say anything to criticise my decision even though I know he always thought I might do a brilliant career in the Army and probably cringes at the thought of me giving it up.

"I felt I needed to make some changes in my life", I add, not adding that today is part of that puzzle too.

"I see."

We walk in reticence, making sure we never touch by accident.

"Still, that answers only what you've done, not how you are."

Did not think he would notice.

"Okay, I guess. Surviving."

Trying to avoid the difficult stuff by mirroring his own answer earlier, and it is the truth: alive but not really living, even if many things about my life is good; job, family, friends.

Then he is braver than me, after another pause asking his next question.

"And do you have a partner? Kids?"

"No."

That is all I give him. I'm just 27 so there is still plenty of time, if only I can get over him. Yet I wish I had more to brag about in that area, but I imagine I see his shoulders relax a bit like he was dreading the answer. I still do not have it in me to ask him, because even if I'm dying to know, I'm also afraid I will die when he tells me, but he offers the answer anyway.

"Me neither."

I remain quiet for a while with my eyes fixed on the gravel path we are walking on, because I'm afraid that the hard knot which is currently dissolving in my chest will morph into liquid form and come pouring out of my eyes. I do not want him to see how relieved he just has made me. He is not with Georgie. That has been my worst scenario all these years, that he is still with her and they are happily raising a family, but they are not. He knows me too well, however, he knows what has been on my mind.

"You thought I was with Georgie."

I swallow.

"Can you blame me?"

I stop in my tracks and turn to him, suddenly bitterly angry. Fuck him – after all these years I still cannot wrap my mind around how he could sleep with my mate, his dead friend's girlfriend on tour and not even be discrete about it. It is so not him, not the Charles I knew and loved. Delete/correct – I did not think it was him, but obviously it was.

His face is serious, but not the blank version I had to get used to towards the end of our marriage. The one who kept every single emotion bottled up, unwilling to let me in or let anything seep out, maybe because he was afraid he would explode. No matter how I tried to penetrate the surface time after time, he would not let me. Now it all shows, how hard this is to him, pain, grief and remorse distorting his beautiful features.

"No, I can't because it was what I wanted you to think."

I try to understand what he is saying. He wanted me to think he was with Georgie. Does he not understand how that would hurt me? How insensitive can someone be? And not just anyone, my ex-husband who I once thought cared about me.

He takes hold of my elbow and I flinch, the skin where he touched me burning.

"Sorry, but… Can we sit down for a bit? I have some stuff I really want to talk to you about and I can't get away from the feeling you're about to run."

"Maybe because I'm considering it…."

What he just said, I do not know if I can handle it even now.

"But you wanted to meet, Molly. I assume it wasn't because you want to talk about the weather, but because you wanted to talk about us. I want that too, even if it hurts."

I chew my lower lip and nod.

"There is no us, as you know. I wanted to see you because I need closure."

He gives me the wistful smile again.

"I'll try to give you that then. Come."

He gestures towards a wooden picnic table with two benches and we sit down opposite each other, me with the feeling that I'm staring my future fate right in the eyes.

"I'm not expecting you to forgive what I'm about to say, I just want to explain how my mind worked then, even if it seems very strange to me too now."

His eyes are like dark pools of emotion and I'm not sure I'm ready to hear this, but I've started this, I must go through with it. He takes a deep breath and dives in.

"I was convinced I was not good for you anymore, that I would never again be who you needed me to be. If I stayed with you I would just keep hurting you and pull you down with me and you know I always wanted you to be brilliant, as I knew you could be."

I snort with contempt.

"I don't even know what that's supposed to mean anymore, not sure I ever did."

"It means you're strong and smart and caring, you can achieve extraordinary things. Make others think in ways they didn't before, change the world in the small things. Like you did with Bashira, with me."

"Even if I was so fucking excellent I wasn't enough for you."

"No one was then, and I didn't want to ruin you. I knew I would if you stayed with me, but I knew I wouldn't be able to let you go…

"But you did?"

"…unless I destroyed it. Unless I destroyed everything that was us and made you hate me."

I stare at him and he does not flinch.

"I used Georgie to ruin us. I pursued her, yes, and I welcomed her when she came to my room that night, but it was never about love or even attraction. She knew that. She was as fragged as me and she used me too, to be closer to Elvis for a moment, to feel safe, to try to forget. I don't think that worked very well for her, but what I did had exactly the effect I intended."

I stare at him, trying to grasp how he could be so cruel. I do not want to hear more but he will not shut up now.

"I was sure I could not make you happy, that I never would be able to be the husband you deserved again, or a good father to the children I knew you would want someday. I figured that as long as you would be happy in the end, then what I did would be right even if it was wrong."

Oh, the-end-justifies-the-means-speech. The officer with a battle plan. I don't know if I can take this anymore. It hurts, God how it hurts that he wanted to demolish what we had down to the last tiny brick with the biggest wrecking ball he could conjure up, even if he says his motive was that he thought he had to let me go. I never wanted to go even if it was the best for myself, because without him I'm just half of me. Once I had fallen for him I would never be the same without him even if he pushed me away and even when I have hated him, I have always loved him. How could he act so coolly? I'm unable to speak.

"Of course, I've regretted it every day since."

His voice breaks and his eyes now glazed with tears.

"I woke up the morning after and she was gone, and it was such a relief, in two ways. A relief that she was gone, and we did not have to fake affection we did not feel in broad daylight. I felt soiled and went for a long shower and scrubbed myself…"

"Please! Please, spare me the details. I still can't bear to think of it", I manage to whisper. I do not want to imagine him needing a shower after a sweaty night with Georgie.

"I'm sorry, Molls. I just want you to know I never felt right about it, never enjoyed it. Afterwards I never knew how I even could… I still can't look myself in the mirror when I think of it. But I also felt relief that morning because I thought I had managed to end things between us, to set you free."

I put my fist to my mouth, to bite my knuckles but still cannot stop a sob of pain from coming out. Tears are streaming down his cheeks now. Anyone who saw us would have a hard time figuring out who is most in agony.

"I never meant for you to find out."

"No? Then what was the point of it?"

"For me to know it was over. To not be tempted to pull you back in. I've always known, that if I ever cheated on someone, it would mean that relationship was over. Elvis and I used to talk about that. You know he wasn't very concerned about being faithful and he often asked me why I kept to one woman at a time when there were so many out there. I always told him that if I ever, ever did cheat, it would mark the end of the relationship. I just knew I don't have it in me to live with being a two-timer, I would not stand the betrayal or the guilt it would entail and just continue… So, I figured if I was with someone else, well then it would be the nail in the coffin for us. As I said, I don't expect you to understand, and definitely not forgive, because even to me that logic seems twisted now."

"But why Georgie, of all people? Someone I knew, Elvis' girlfriend."

"Because she was there, because she wanted it too but for other reasons. She walked into it with open eyes, knowing I did not love her. The only thing I deceived her about was your feelings about us, me and you. I told her that you had decided to put our marriage out of its misery and moved on, even if I knew you just said those things because you hoped I would come back to you. I was the one who had decided it had to end there but she never knew that."

I watch a mum efficiently clean her son's mouth from ice cream with a wet wipe at some distance, while he tries to wriggle away from her, while taking in Charles words.

"Apparently, Fingers had seen her leave my quarters in the early morning hours, and you know him, then everyone knew. It was awkward, but I just shook it off, told myself I didn't care what anyone thought. Then I heard a rumour that Brains had let you know and I tried to convince myself that maybe that was for the best after all, because that would for sure mean the end for you too. No more hopes of getting back together, letting me go. I'm not even able to explain how numb I was then, it was like I felt nothing. I didn't feel anything for anything. I knew I had lost the respect of the lads because they all adored you, but I just shut it off like everything else."

I can imagine 2 sections' reaction, even if I have never talked to any of them about it. I did not even stay in touch with Brains, the messenger, afterwards. It hurt too much even if I knew they were all my friends, my brothers, and probably would have taken my side.

"…But then when I got home, to our house, empty of everything that was you… I regretted it. I cried, cried for the first time since Elvis died. I had efficiently killed the one and only thing, besides Sam, that meant anything in my life - because I thought I had to. I thought I saw everything with clarity and no one else did, when it in fact was the other way around. My head was completely messed up and I ruined everything around me. I realised then, back in our empty house, I would never be happy again, but that did not matter as long as you could be happy again."

"But I can't! You think I'm happy? I'm not happy."

"Why can't you be?"

"Do you really not know why? I've tried. Oh, I've tried so hard. Tried to forget you, tried to focus on my work, tried other men…"

I can see how he is flinching at the thought and amid all of this it gives me some satisfaction that he may still be jealous, that I might hurt him a little bit.

"…but it never works out. You've broken me, and I don't think I'll ever be able to love anyone the way I loved you, not when you just threw it away."

His eyes widen, but his expression is hard to interpret because so many feelings seem to be there all at once; grief that I have not moved on despite his brilliant plan, understanding that I still love him, his own feelings about that, whatever they are.

"And none of them is you, not even when I close my eyes."

Now he shuts his eyes, like he understands what I mean, and it pains him to think of it. Good. I want him to feel a scrap of the pain I feel.

"I never wanted to hurt you. All I ever wanted was to make you happy."

It feels like we have had this conversation once before.

"You fucked that up big time, your logical plan didn't work. You hurt me like hell, but you didn't set me free."

Maybe I will be free after today, maybe this is the closure I need, but when I look at him I doubt it. I want to reach out my hand and touch his face, softly touch the new lines, kiss the sad mouth until it smiles, put some spark in his dark eyes again. I will never stop loving him, despite what he did to us, but it does not mean there ever can be an us again.

He looks down at the table, wipes away some tears.

"Then it was for nothing, all this pain was for nothing."

"So, it seems."

We stay quiet for a while, both trying to gather ourselves.

"How could you want to destroy us Charles? I'll never understand."

"I don't say that I do either – now. That was the twisted logic of my brain, but I was ill. You know I wasn't myself, you saw it and you tried to make me seek help."

"Are you now? Well? Are you yourself? Did that magically happen after a night with Georgie-fucking-Lane?

He looks like my words are a punch in his stomach, but wisely abstain from telling me to calm down, understanding that would not have gone down well.

"There was no magic. First, I just sank deeper into darkness, isolated myself, didn't even see Sam or mum or dad. Didn't think I was any good for anyone. Was thinking I would hide myself on another tour, ask to be transferred to another section who did not know my history…" He snorted bitterly. "Yeah, I know, that's completely mad, like I would have been mentally fit. It didn't take a genius to see I wasn't. Luckily Beck did and stopped me. I was suspended from active service until my health was better and he ordered me to get counselling for my PTSD. Initially I refused, stubbornly maintained I was fine despite that I was living in a social vacuum where the only feeling I ever had was anger with everyone, until he said that if I didn't I would be discharged and forget ever working for the Army again."

"So, the threat of losing your precious Army did the trick…"

"Not really. I shut myself up in the house for weeks, was constantly wasted and let myself go completely, I'm glad you never had to see me like that, I would have been ashamed… then one day Beck came around and said he would have no more of this. He put me in a cold shower and made me have a shave, threw away whatever alcohol there was… took me out for a meal when I was sober enough to move, then put me to bed and I slept for real for the first time since Elvis died, I think. He waited on the downstairs sofa. Then he drove me to the psychiatrist and waited outside for the full session. He did that every week for two months, until I had improved enough to understand and accept I needed it and continued going myself. Still do even if not as often. I owe Beck a lot."

"That's what I should have done… I tried to make you with words, but I should have taken you, forced you. I knew you were ill." He was right, I have always known that, and the guilt makes me nauseous, he is not the only one who has wronged even if I think he tops me in fuck-uppery in this case.

"It would never had worked Molly. I would never have come with you. I needed to hit rock bottom and I needed for a superior officer to do it, not the love of my life."

I flinch at his words.

"Obviously not the love your life…"

"What?"

"Me, clearly not the love of your life as you left me."

He looks at me with desperation.

"Don't you see that's what I'm trying to tell you. You were the love of my life. There will never be anyone else for me, but I had to leave you. At least I thought I had to leave you."

I cannot hold back anymore because it is all too painful. I lean my head in my palms, trying to block him out and start crying. I cry so my body is shaking. Grieving a love that was so beautiful but that we both have shattered to pieces. He is with me in a second, coming around the table to the bench on my side.

"Can I hold you?"

"No."

I tell him no, because I cannot ever let myself depend on him again, but my body deceives me. When he kneels beside me and wraps his arms around my waist, leaning his head against my stomach, I do not have it in me to push him away. Instead I hold around him too, lean my head to his to bury my face in his locks. He feels right, he smells right, like the husband I loved. My tears wetting his hair.

"How could you Charles? How could you?"

He has no more explanations to offer, all he says is;

"I'm so sorry Molly. I'm so, so sorry for what I did to you, did to us. I'll never have words enough to tell you how sorry I am. So many things I wish were different."

Part of me still want to push him away but instead I let my body melt into his for a long time, saying nothing, until I'm finally depleted of tears. I gradually become aware of my surroundings again, of other things than our sobbing, my erratic heartbeats and him. The birds chirping, people talking and laughing further away. It feels strange that the spring sun is shining on us, cherry and apple trees blossoming and kids playing nearby. Strange that normality and happiness can exist alongside so much grief, but maybe that is the cycle of life. Maybe one time we were the happy ones and someone else grieving nearby without us noticing.

I came here today for closure. Now I no longer know what this is. So much to process that it could last a life time for someone with a brain capacity which prevented me from passing geography. He raises his head from my lap and cupping my face, wipes away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. I let him, but it reminds painfully much of another time in the beginning when he did the same. Then he comes up to sit beside me instead, but the side of his body is still touching mine. I can feel that he is shaking like I am.

We sit like that for a long time and then some more.

"Why did you never come to see me? Later when you were better?"

"I think I had forfeited that right, no matter what I might have wanted. I thought you would never want to see me again for good reasons, and I hoped you were happy without me. It was different now, when you asked to see me."

Again we stay silent and when he takes my hand and laces his fingers with mine, I do not pull it away.

"What now, after today? We just say goodbye?" I finally ask.

He turns to me, searching my eyes.

"That's up to you. What you want, what you think is best for you. If you want to see me again, I'd like that very much."

Part of me wants to say yes immediately, part of me feels never, part of me thinks it would be best to wait a few years until my brain at least had a chance to process half of what he has said today.

"Maybe. Can I think about it?"

"Of course, take all the time you need and if you want to see me I'm here."

"Right here?", I smile weakly and nod towards the bench.

He smiles back, the second smile today that reaches all the way to his eyes and spontaneously he reaches out his hand to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, like he used to do.

"You know what I mean. Not here here, but you know how to reach me whenever, and I would welcome it anytime."

His words warm me more than the sun.

"Good, because it would be bloody awkward to have you staring at me when I'm out for my morning run", I smirk.

He just shakes his head, smiling and there is a second of normality in the familiar banter between us. We hug each other one more time before I walk away and leave him sitting on the bench and I know he will be watching me for as long as he can see me. Today was worse than I ever could have imagined. It was also so much better, even if I do not know how that is even possible. I have no idea what the future holds, but for the first time in forever I think there is a tiny chance Charles might be in it.