back to you

Spoilers: General series three

***

I'm gonna find my way back to you

I lie in bed and watch the shadows dancing across the wall
Nothing to do but think of you and count the tears that fall
Oh, how I wish it was real
I wish I could feel you holding me close
The only thing I know for sure is I should've never let you go

Now baby I was wrong
Now that you're gone the only thing left to do
Is spend every day
Stray every way to find my way back to you

Back to You: Faith Hill

***

Five months on and it's as much as you can take. The aching has finally become too much and you don't know what to do.

And as you lie there, night after night, imagining that he lies beside you in some idyllic hallucination, you can't understand.

The pain has not subsided as you thought it should.

In the past, this part has always been easier. Starting over is difficult at first, but soon afterwards memories fade away.

The pain becomes a dull ache and you realise that you're probably better off without him.

But this time, something is different. Something still inevitably ties you to the past, to him, and as much as you try, you cannot sever the link.

It bothers you.

It gets to you.

*He* gets to you.

It infiltrates every fibre of your being, causing you to think over and over about what could have been, what should have been.

Because over the last few months you've come to a shocking conclusion: this time you probably haven't made the right decision.

Because if you had, you'd be over this by now; you'd be over the tears and the depression and the loneliness. You would have accepted offers of dates from other guys.

This time is different. And you can only dwell on the fact that you might have made a huge mistake in trying to separate yourself from him.

You rarely stop thinking about him.

And one Thursday morning, as you awake from yet another dream of him, you make a decision: you have to go back to New York. You have to see him.

You go back to sleep, vaguely laughing at your own idea, knowing that in the morning the need and the foolish idea will pass. But it doesn't pass. Not that morning. Not the next day. Not two weeks later.

And, drunk, you finally book a flight.

Sober, you get on the plane.

It's a Friday night and you first think to check the bar you used to frequent with the gang. You don't know why, but almost instinctively, you believe that they will be there.

You enter hesitantly, afraid of what you might find.

***

Five months on and you haven't forgotten her.

Have you forgiven her? You can't yet decide.

If she turned up tomorrow you have no idea how you'd react.

Of course, she's not going to turn up tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. She has left your life completely and there's very little you could do about it even if you wanted.

At first, you tried hard to forget her. Willed her not to have existed.

You dated some; slept with girls who were nothing like her. But still the truth remained.

You hated it. You hated yourself. And you hated that you couldn't change a damn thing.

The girls you dated, slept with, they left you feeling lonelier than before. And they meant nothing to you.

The worst part is that you compared every one of them to her.

And they didn't compare favourably.

After a while, you concentrated your efforts on hating her. After all, if you couldn't forget her, you might as well spend time creatively thinking of ways to get back at her. Just in case.

But then you tired of feeling the hate and the anger and the pain.

Because the truth is that you still love her.

And despite your feigned nonchalance and indifference, you always have.

And that seriously pisses you off.

As the weeks pass, you gradually come to terms with it all and come to the realisation that in order to move on you will have to forgive her. And while it seems impossible, time – the almighty healer – intervenes and gradually you hate her less.

And while you'll never really understand her reasons for metaphorically kicking the shit out of you, you begin to accept it.

It is on one Friday night when you agree to go to your usual haunt that you believe that you're over the hate and the enmity, and it's finally time to move on.

Strangely light-hearted, you offer to get the first round in, and you walk to the bar.

But before you've reached the bar you have to stop.

Because she's standing there.

***

You see him walking to the bar and you freeze.

You can't remember what you were going to say to him.

You're only aware of how you feel.

Because the aching has stopped.

***

You freeze as you see her standing there. She doesn't move and neither do you.

And at some point someone will have to move and you hope it will be her. Because at the moment all you can think is that she's standing there and that can't be right.

***

Finally, you remember how to walk.

Slowly, unsure, you move towards him.

And suddenly the foolishness of what you are doing assaults you and you want to leave.

But you can't. You came this far. You've felt so bad, so long.

This is the only way, and you have to know how he feels.

You reach him, and yet you still can't remember what to say or how to speak.

“I'm sorry” is your weak offering. And you've already decided that it's too late in coming. That you are ultimately doomed to fail.

He moves his head almost imperceptibly and you have no idea what it means.

And for some reason, you start to cry.

Because it's too much.

***

She moves towards you and all you want to do is run. But still you can't move.

And then she stands there, no more than a meter away from you.

You stand there, unable to move. Unable to speak. Barely able to remember to breathe. And there is an almost unbearable silence for what seems like eternity.

Then she breathes out, a quiet “I'm sorry” leaves her mouth and you're not entirely sure you heard correctly.

And you remember that you love her. And you remember that you're over her. And you remember that you hate her. And it's all too damn confusing and it screws with your head far too much and you have to shake the thoughts free. Except that you can't very well.

And then she cries. And you have no idea what to do.

Because the part of you that loves her wants to comfort her.

The part that is over her wants to walk away.

The part that hates her wants to shout and scream and tell her that you don't give a damn.

But you don't do any of that.

And for some reason, you ask “do you want a drink?”

***

You nod at his question.

And yet you don't understand his response.

Later, you sit down with him, take a sip of the cocktail; you feel more in love with him than ever.

And you know now that this is not the time to tell him that.

***


It is four months later.

Four long months later.

And as you lie enveloped in his arms for the first time in about a year, you know that it is right. And it is meant to be.

Last night you told him that you loved him. And you meant it.

And this time, when he told you that he loved you, you didn't feel the need to withdraw into yourself.

Instead you kissed him. Long, deep, satisfying.

And it felt right.

And while you hate that it took you a year to realise it, you love that you're finally able to appreciate being with him.

The last four months have been hard, full of discussions and explanations and acceptance.

But finally, you're back where you belong. With him.

***

It is four months later.

And you can't believe that she is finally back with you.

Over the last few months you had to come to terms with your own feelings and it's been difficult. It was more difficult to forgive than you had expected.

And then, after four months of talking, almost unexpectedly she told you she loved you. And she said it first. And it made you feel almost unbelievably ecstatic.

You've been building up to this moment for over a year. And after she kissed you – the first kiss you'd shared in almost a year – she told you that she'd always loved you. And then you kissed her back; you made love to her.

You regret the months you spent apart, but finally you know, as she lies in your arms, staring back at you, that everything will be alright.

Finally, it is all as it should be: she's back with you.

***

End.

***

Prequel: walk away again

Prequel: i eat dinner

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