disclaimer: i don't own dan or phil, nor do i own any social media references, music references, and whatever else you recognize. i do own my oc, abigail elizabeth woods :)

includes: typing up some loose ends and fictional jails because i can.
does not include: a gap in updating, i promise this time

the next chapter is the epilogue, which means this will be the last author's note i do for this story! which is really surreal — i started this story in 2015? with no plot whatsoever? all i had was "i want dan to save something in a train-tracks for some girl" and here we are today. and there were so many flaws in this story, but i've learned so much since the beginning. i feel like this story definitely shaped who i am as a writer, as cheesy as it sounds. i really appreciate those who stuck around since the beginning, who left random comments of squeals and screams, and of course, to anyone that's ever enjoyed it. i love you all a bunch. thank you.

so, dear reader,
make sure you enjoy this one. *heart-hands*

Chapter 41: To Those We Left Behind

They stand in complete silence for a while.

If Phil was here, Abi knows he would break the silence somehow. Silence was always a rarity in their home, so when it did come around, it felt unbearable.

So Abi holds Dan in her arms for as long as she could,
but when he eventually pulls back,
the silence broke.

"A-Abi—"

"Shhh," she whispers, pulling Dan closer and slowly leading him to the lounge, still wrapped in his embrace. They stand near the fireplace, and all there ever was is silence.

"I-I shouldn't have," Dan says quietly; brokenly.

"That's not true," Abi reassures, taking a step back. Dimly-lit by the fireplace, Abi could barely see the glisten of tears in Dan's eyes.

"I shouldn't have put you in that kind of position." Dan takes Abi's hands and squeezes them tightly. "I care about you more than anything — I don't need a ring to solidify that. It...it was stupid."

"Not stupid." She rubs the side of his hands with her thumb gently. "Scared."

The sound of the fire crackling breaks the silence.

"I know I am," Dan admits, looking down at his hands in the middle of both of them, holding Abi's. "I don't want to lose you again."

"I don't think you ever could." Abi steps towards Dan once more.

"Have you ever wondered if two people can be so destined to be with each other?" Abi asks. "Have their stories intertwined so perfectly that they are just meant to fall apart and fall back together again?"

A beat of silence.

"...No." Dan blinks. "Not really, actually."

Abi smiles. "Me neither. But when have we ever been right?"

Dan laughs quietly, stepping closer to Abi as well.

"We've never been right about anything." Abi smiles, wiping a few tears off Dan's cheek. "You thought I was a game-changer. I thought I'd move out many times. You thought you lost me. We thought Rosalina was lovely."

Their hands intertwined.

"I am just a girl who decided to stay. I'm still here, and we all know what happened with Rosalina." She rubs Dan's hand with her thumb.

"So who's to say that I'm right about saying no now?" she whispers. Dan frowns, and Abi sighs.

"I can't marry you, Dan," she says quietly, "but I can try."

"Try?" Dan echoes.

"Try this." She pulls Dan into a sweet kiss, pressing him close to her chest. Dan, a bit surprised, eventually wraps his arms around Abi's waist.

When they pull back, their noses barely grazed each other's.

"I want a forever with you, Dan Howell," she whispers; "I want a home."

Dan smile is brighter than the fire behind them.

"Well," he says, hands interlocking once more, "we all know what they say about home."

Phil wonders how long it takes for Dan and Abi to talk.

He was secretly hoping that Abi would call him; tell him that all was fine now and that he could go home. But his phone was silent during his ten, twenty, maybe fifty laps around the block.

Giving in, he decides to walk a few more steps to the small park near their house, watching as the slowly-pouring rain surround him. He takes a seat on the bench and lets Striker hop onto the seat beside him, sheltering him from the rain with his jacket. He sighs, watching the world become drenched around him.

He has come a long way since living in the heart of London. Admittedly, there are times where he misses its buzz, but nights like this remind him that he belongs in the outskirts of a busy life.

As he watches the rain pour, he can't help but think if Dan and Abi feel the same way, or if they would want to move back in the city when they eventually fall even more in love and get married, with their children and their cat. He wonders if they would move further out near the edge of London, or move out of England completely to start a family in Canada.

He wonders if they would leave him behind.
He wonders if maybe it's too late to ask.

He knows they're talking about something—some kind of possibility—and if they aren't going to go for it now, he knows that they'll go for it in a year or two.

Phil knows that he'll have to move on someday. Find someone to love again; someone who isn't hellbent on killing someone else, or someone who isn't hellbent on loving someone else either. Even if Dan and Abi stick around, he knows he'll have to find someone to love eventually.

Could he? The thought is nearly as loud as the slowly pouring rain. Striker is shivering, and Phil knows his rainy-night contemplation can't last forever.

He stands up, as if he's ready to move on from everything:
from Rosa,
from tears,
from being alone,
from someone who can love him better.

"Hey, mister," a voice pops up from behind him. "I should have you arrested for how you're treating your dog."

Phil jumps at the noise and turns around to face a rather young red-haired girl, assumably in her late 20s. She's holding a yellow umbrella, and wearing a matching yellow jacket, yellow boots, and yellow hat. Her brown glasses are sliding off her nose.

She's looking up at Phil with soft, green eyes.

"P-Pardon?" he stammers.

"You think your jacket is enough for a poor doggo in this kind of weather?" She extends her umbrella forward, towards him. "You're screwing it and yourself over."

"My dog is not an 'it'," Phil says, joking lightly. "Striker is a he. And he happens to be quite warm under my jacket."

"Striker." The girl's sudden laugh sends chills up Phil's spine. He smiles shakily. "I 'ought to have you arrested for the name alone."

"Nothing wrong with Striker," Phil says. The girl puts her hands up in the air, lifting her umbrella higher with her.

"I'll concede," she says; "I guess it's just a striking difference from most dog names."

Phil blinks, confused for a mere second before he saw the girl laugh. He begins to laugh as well, and the girl extends the umbrella forward once more.

"Though seriously," she says between giggles, "get under here. You're soaking, and you can carry your dog so poor thing doesn't have to walk through this torrential downpour any longer."

"Have you just moved to England?" Phil jokes. "This is nothing."

"Only been here two weeks," the girl replies. "I guess I should be nervous then."

Phil smiles, looking at the girl, who lifts the umbrella higher when Phil goes underneath it. He laughs, picking up Striker and handing him to her, exchanging Striker for the umbrella.

"How about I hold this," he says quietly, holding the umbrella up. The girl sighs in relief, patting Striker's head softly.

"Was waiting for you to ask, you giant tower," she says with a smile. Phil grins.

"I'm Phil by the way," he says. "Thanks for lending me your umbrella."

"No problem," she replies. "Emily's are supposed to help others."

"Is that a fixed definition?" Phil laughs. The girl—now Emily—shrugs.

"It is now," she says with a bright smile; brighter than any of the rain surrounding him. "Now, lemme walk you home, and you can tell me why you were sitting in the rain as if you were an angsty kid in a movie."

"Why do you care?" Phil asks before thinking of it. Emily shrugs.

"Because I kinda care about what the rain means to you right now." She looks down at Striker. "I know what it means to me."

When Phil looks at Emily, he feels the sun shine against the odds of this cold, rainy night.

He didn't want to settle for better anymore;
he wanted someone who could love him more.

"I guess I can ramble for a while then," Phil says, and the two walk back towards his house, letting their smiles and their artificial yellow umbrella and each other act as their sunshine for now.

(And Phil feels a bit lighter as he walks another lap of the block this time.)

A few days later, whilst Dan and Phil dedicate the day to filming new gaming videos, Abi takes a train early in the morning up north. Dan would kill her if he knew—or would force himself onto her until she let him join—so Abi lies and says she's just spending the day outside for a while. Getting fresh air.

Instead she walks into the cold atmosphere of North Salton County Jail, asking the front desk if she could see Ben Woods. The receptionist frowns—no one's visited him in so long—and Abi says nothing.

It's almost silent in the room they placed Abi in. She waits on this old chair, staring straight ahead at the matching telephone and chair on the other side of the glass. She pulls out her phone and puts it on silent, before stuffing it back in her jacket and folding her hands on her lap.

She takes a deep breath.

One.
Two.
Thr—

The door on the other side of the glass opens, and out walks her father; dressed in orange and sporting a bruised eye. She pays no attention to it because it reminds her of her bruised neck from all those months ago.

He sits on the chair and the two police officers stand at the door he entered from.

They stare at each other for a little while, and for a split second,
it's almost as if they were trying to remember what they once looked like
and who they once were.

Abi slowly picks up the phone.

"Hey, dad." She immediately looks down at the desk when he picks up the phone on the other side of the glass.

"Abigail," he said gruffly. Abi winces, and she wonders for the first time if this was a mistake. She takes a deep breath and looks at him, before seeing that he was sad rather than upset.

"How'd they let you in," he asks.

"I asked," she replied. He shakes his head.

"So who died," he finally says. "There's no way you got hit by another car. Do you want me to punch someone? Or are you here to rub it in my face that I'm never getting out of here?"

"Never getting out of here?" Abi echoes. He looks down, and Abi finally gets it.

"What did you do?"

"Went too hard on the newbie," he mutters. That's all he has to say about that.

"Do you ever want to get out of here, dad?" Abi asks, almost tired.

"What's the point in doing that?" he shoots back. Abi shakes her head, and she imagines Dan wrapping his arms around her. Phil's beside her too, placing a hand on her shoulder. Striker's at her feet.

She's fine.
This is fine.

"I'm getting married," she blurts out.

Her dad stares at her, eyes wide. His hands tighten around the phone.

"That's…" She gulps. "That's why."

Silence.
Abi feels as if she wants to explode.

"Married?" he asks, quieter now. "Is it to the brown fringe or black?"

Abi blinks, surprised. "Brown. How—"

"If it was black fringe, I was going to smash the glass." Abi smiles, but it's only because he smiles too. She sighs.

"Plus I figured it'd be the brown haired one," he adds hesitantly. "I just...I remember seeing 'im once. On the news."

"On the news?" she echoes.

"The trial," he says. "It was televised, 'asn't it? The TV here isn't crap. The story was pretty big, I guess — didn't you guys trend or something?"

"Twitter," she replies quietly. "I didn't know it was so...public."

"So you're marrying...Dan, was it?" Abi nods. "When?"

"Not now," she says, "but soon. I...I just wanted to tell you."

"I'm not going out for the wedding," he says, his voice icing over. "You and I both know that. So why on Earth would you want me to know?"

"Because you're my dad." Abi sighs. "I just want...your blessing, I guess."

They're both quiet for a while. Abi's grasp on the phone tightens.

"I'll forgive you someday," Abi begins. "When you're out of here—"

"That's not going to happen, Abigail."

"When you're out of here,"—Abi squeezes the phone tighter—"I'm going to bring you out for coffee."

"Abi—"

"I'm going to ask you if you learned something." Abi feels herself swallowing down tears. "I am going to tell you that nothing will buy back the years you used to you hurt me."

He says nothing.

"But I'm not going to forgive you." Abi's voice cracks. "I...God, I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Abi." When she looks up, she realizes that he's crying too.

"I'll ask you if you want time." She wipes her sloppy tears with the back of her hand. "I'll ask if you can handle a few days, a few hours. I'll ask if you want to see the photos of our wedding. Of the future you missed."

She shakily smiles.

"I'll ask if you want to be part of that future," Abi says, "because I don't want to spend the rest of my life thinking you're still behind bars."

Silence.

"He changed you, didn't he?" her dad asks. "Taught you how to forgive. Taught you how to love."

"Dad—"

"He taught me that too, I think." He twirls the cord of the phone with his index finger. "I saw him hold you at the trial. The reporter was saying a terrible voiceover, but I could hear everything I needed to hear. I heard everything I should've been."

He sighs.

"I give you my blessing, Abigail. Have your future." He smiles, his hand sliding closer to the bottom of the glass' edge. Abi's hand edges closer as well.

"If it's to any consolation," he continues, "I'm sorry. I could've given you a life outside of this room — outside of the life you knew. I hurt you in ways that are unforgivable, and it makes me sick that I still have thoughts of me not being able to forgive you for putting me here."

He closes his eyes.

"But I could have given you a home." His hand balls into a fist at the edge of the glass. "I don't think even a lifetime sentence could punish me as much as the fact that I can't give you a home anymore."

They say nothing.
(Abi remembers when all of this meant nothing to her.)

"I have to go, dad," she says quietly. "I'll...I'll visit you more often, okay?"

"Don't." He pulls his hand back. "Start your future. If...if you let me, I'll get there someday."

Abi places a hand on the surface of the glass, half-expecting her dad to the same. The tears felt as if they'd be there forever.

He doesn't.

"I'll see you later, dad." She places the phone back and watches as the guards take her dad away once more.

As she walks out, she pulls out her phone and sees a text from Dan.

Dan-Bear xx
come homeee - we r getting sushi | 5 minutes ago

Abi smiles
behind hear tears.

Home.