The Unexpected Journey-A Prince Harry Fan Fic

Chapter 141

The weekend before Harry's departure was spent at Highgrove with family. Charles and Camilla had been up for a few days and Maddie and Harry met Will, Kate and Arthur there on an unseasonably bright Saturday afternoon. While their things were unloaded, they all took advantage of the weather and set out on the grounds. They had time before dinner, before games and laughter.

Harry carried Arthur, telling him tale after tale of the mishaps of his older brother while Will laughed and rolled his eyes in the background; counterpointing nearly everything Harry said with his own version of the truth. Camilla and Kate strolled leisurely behind discussing their respective holidays, their other families. And Maddie brought up the end; a slower pace, slower thoughts. She took in the land, taking note of where work was being done, where she should pay attention in the spring. She inhaled the fresh air and tried to relax; tried to push all the muck from her mind.

And then she had company.

Charles, noticing her meander, noticing her preoccupation, dropped behind the group and took stride with her. Though he never spoke a word, never forced himself into her space, he offered her a smile and a companion and he kept pace with this young woman whom he knew was fighting with a whole host of storms inside of her. And for whatever reason that Maddie simply couldn't delve into at the moment—the way he reminded her of Harry, the way he reminded her of her father—Maddie felt better. She felt lighter and easier and safe. So she smiled her thanks and she continued on.

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Sunday morning came too soon. Their evening spent in warm spirits drew quiet and the new day woke them with more clouds, more chill; less warmth. The brothers woke early to hunt with their father, leaving their wives and Arthur at the house; playing and preparing for the next day.

As part of the grand plan, the larger picture, Maddie and Kate had been schedule to attend an event that would overlap Harry's departure and travels and then another into the evening. Though deals had been made for media silence, they weren't taking any chances. A grand diversion had been orchestrated and Maddie and Kate were a part of the show. It made sense; Maddie knew that. She just hoped that she would be able to stand up and walk tall and do what was being asked of her.

And a lot was being asked of her. She knew that. Harry knew that. They all knew that.

"She'll do wonderfully," Charles assured his son as they stilled in the cold air; the ice and snow crunching under their feet.

"They are going to swarm her," Harry's voice was low as he pulled back the bolt action of his rifle, sliding it back into place and lifting it to his cheek. "When the announcement is made, they'll surround her."

"Yes," Charles nodded, his eyes lifting and squinting at the target in Harry's sites.

"I'm only asking that you not leave her hanging out there alone," he paused, inhaled and fired. "Keep her close."

"Of course," William reloaded his gun, finding the reminders misplaced and unneeded. After all he had seen from his sister-in-law, he couldn't imagine ever needing to pull her in—and he couldn't imagine a moment when he wouldn't do so even without Harry's requests.

"You do know we're going to look after her," Charles spoke up, watching the exchange between his boys. "There's absolutely nothing for you to worry about back here."

"I know," Harry exhaled and cocked his gun. "But she's stubborn sometimes, not always open to help and intervening."

"I can only imagine what that must be like," Charles' dry voice drew both sons' eyes to him and he chuckled. "How the two of you managed to seek each other out is a tale to be told I'm sure."

"Sorry, are you making fun of me right now?" Harry lowered his rifle and turned bemused eyes to his father. "I'm pouring my heart out and asking a favor and you're poking fun?" He couldn't help the way his lips tipped up at the pleased look on his father's face.

"She'll be fine, son." Charles moved forward and placed a warm, steady, assuring hand on his shoulder. "Nobody is going to let her fend for herself. Nobody is going to let her waver in the press alone. You should know that by now."

"I do," Harry exhaled and looked down, stubbing the snow with his toes. "Kate's ready for tomorrow?" He swung the attention away from him, to something he felt more comfortable with.

"I would say she's excited for tomorrow," Will lifted his rifle, closing one eye as he peered through the sites. "And not just because you'll be leaving for four months." He smirked and fired; his eyes flashing to his brother as he lowered his gun.

"Lovely," Harry grinned despite himself. He could always count on his brother to keep it light, to keep it leveled.

"She's excited for 'girl time'," Will's eyes rolled slightly on their own accord, as though it was something that happened automatically, something he made no thought of. "She's been wanting to ease back into things and I think that going out with Maddie, being there to try to help her...distract..." He shrugged at his choice of words, not sure if that's what he was going for. "I think it's going to help both of them to be completely honest."

"Fair enough," Harry nodded, scrubbing his hand rough over his face. "You'll keep an eye on..."

"Oh for Christ's sake," Will huffed as he lifted his gun; firing, reloading, and firing again before he turned to Harry. "I'll keep an eye on her. Father will keep an eye on her. Kate will keep an eye on her. What would you have us do? Move her into the guest room for four months? She's going to feel like she has stalkers if we're following her every move." He watched his brother flinch at his words and a part of him felt bad for the harshness in them. Taking a breath he took a step forward and his voice lowered. "She's been through worse than you flying around in a helicopter for months. She's a strong woman who would be driven mad by everyone constantly on her." Will's hand stretched out, slapping Harry's cheeks lightly. "Have faith in her brother. And we'll be here if she needs us."

"Fine," Harry's jaw tensed as he pushed his brother's hand away and looked off on the horizon. "Fine."

Harry took a shot and lowered his gun but before he could turn back to the two of them, Will spoke up again.

"Don't make this the worst thing she's been through," he was quiet and Harry could hear the sadness through the cold air. "Be careful and come home. I would hate to have to hand her another loss."

Harry's head nodded; heavy and slow. Blinking at the ice cold tears that pricked to his eyes, he cleared his throat and reloaded. "I love you too big brother."

He lifted his gun, inhaled, and fired.

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It wasn't long before Will sloughed off, leaving the hunt to head back to the house. He wasn't having much luck at the shot and he had other pressing things to attend to before they all left for London. And he wanted to give his father time with his brother; time that was spent abandoning the stalk and turning towards the grounds.

They were well away from the house, deep into the grass and the chill when Charles came to a stop and took a breath. Harry watched his father move; waiting for the lesson, the words that came in moments such as these. There had been so many between them over the years; conversations twisted up in walks, resulting in transitions. From boy to man most often. Harry tucked away those memories and he watched his father ponder.

"It's coming too fast..." Charles shook his head, his eyes squinting out across the horizon. Harry's head turned in the same direction; facing the light and the wind and searching for what his father spoke of. "And I'm always too far away."

"Are you..." Harry's voice cracked into the cold air much like the snow and ice below them. "Sorry are you writing poetry right now?" The grin on his face was half way there, as if even his lips weren't committed to his attempt at humor, as if even his mouth knew what was happening there that chilled morning.

The silence softened between them as Charles turned to look at his son; his baby. So much like him, so much like himself. He regarded him with warmth, with eyes that remembered him crawling around their home at Kensington, sticking his tongue to reporters through windows while he squirmed in his mother's arms. He chuckled to himself, humored at the idea that he was still sticking his tongue to reporters—in his own way, through his own methods.

"Too far away to keep any of you from trouble," though he smiled as he said it, his eyes were stuck in someplace else; running over the list of times he wished he had been there but hadn't—couldn't. Harry opened his mouth, ready to offer some glib, wise remark; about Vegas or weed or the most recent photos of his wife's hands all over him, but the words fell silent and he took a step back. He understood his father in that moment—as most he could without being a father—the guilt that came, the responsibility.

"I'll be alright," he offered; hesitant and unsure. Was that what he wanted to hear? Was that what he wanted him to say? "I know what I'm doing and..."

"I don't doubt that," Charles nodded, his large, strong hand coming to rest on the shoulder of his son. In silence he swallowed, adjusted his breathing. In silence, his fingers tightened their hold on him, as though it were twenty years earlier and he was pulling him back from a jump he was about to take off a cliff into the water, pulling him back from bolting without looking. His fingers tightened their hold on him and his thumb stroked love there; protection and love. His father through and through.

Harry's eyes pricked wet with unexpected emotion, with waves of something that rendered him breathless for a moment. Without looking to the old, warm, wise man next to him, he lifted his hand to pat over his; pressing his protective hold closer, holding him tighter as he tried to sit in the space for a moment.

And he felt afraid. He felt young and inexperienced and afraid—and he blinked against it. But he got it, he understood this poetry his father was speaking. Too fast, too far. He got it.

The moment in Bendal when he realized a shot had been fired.

The moment the first photos of Maddie were offered up to the press.

The moment they knew her name.

The moment he heard his father on the other end of the line talking of and earthquake and then the call about aftershocks.

The moments between that call and Maddie's.

The moment she said yes.

The moment the code was called and Jim had held him back.

The moment he watched his brother worry over Kate in the operating room while loving over his son.

The moment Khenda had left this world; her love, her son.

The moment he watched Maddie crack at the news of his deployment.

Too fast. Too far away.

He could only imagine the images that flooded his father's mind.

He felt his knees give just a bit and at the same time he felt his father's fingers; strong and supportive and holding him there—upright and strong.

"You're doing your duty," Charles spoke in low, calming tones. "We all know the responsibilities and guilt and...devotion with which you walk." He squeezed his son's shoulder. "We feel it too. We feel it towards you. You do what you're supposed to do; your call to Queen and country. And we'll do what we're supposed to do and...when you come home, we'll all walk a little easier." He cleared his throat and with one final squeeze, he lifted his hand from his son and took a few steps away. "It's always too fast Henry. It never slows down."

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The drive home from Highgrove that afternoon was dark and dreary and the cold in the air permeated through the Range Rover and settled into their bones. As the countryside drifted away, giving ground over to the city, Maddie turned her eyes from the now drizzling rain to look across the backseat to her husband; quiet and pulled inside.

"Did you always know?" She called out to him in the grey space between them; her hand tucked closely into his.

"Know what?" He turned his face towards the sound of her voice; his eyes gazing distant and far off.

"That you wanted to be in the Army..." She smiled as his eyes snapped back to the moment and she drew his hand into her lap; sandwiching it with both of hers. "You wanted it since you were a child, no?"

"I did," he nodded, his fingers flexing around hers. "It was hard not to. My grandfather served, my uncle served. We've been around the military and the regiment of it all since we were born..." He smiled and took a deep breath. "My brother and I used to play at it when we were young and then...I don't know. Somewhere along the way I realized it was an actual option." His thoughts blinked back over his memories of training, of schooling.

"You love it, don't you." She didn't need an answer, she knew it; just as well as she knew him, she knew it.

"I do," he answered, tugging her hands towards him, his other hand leaving its home on his knee and moving to cradle hers. "Though this part gets more difficult; leaving you."

"I know," she whispered her agreement; feeling tears prick at her eyes. She turned for a moment, letting her eyes flitter over the scenery that was flying past. "Tell me your favorite part?"

"Of the Army?" His eyebrows lifted; the surprise evident in his voice.

"Mmm," she nodded and sniffed, turning her eyes back to him; a smile pressing through her sadness, her worry—something in her thinking it might help them both. "What's the best part? Is it the normalcy that comes with it? The brotherhood? The food?" She took a stab at a joke and was rewarded with a laugh; and her smile tugged wider.

"All of those things..." He tightened his hold on her; falling more in love with her for what she was trying to do right then. "Even the food sometimes."

"Nice," she grinned, allowing her lungs to ease up just a bit, noticing that they were turning through the gates of Kensington. "What's your favorite meal?"

"The breakfast..." He answered; feeling tired and weary of what the next twenty four hours was going to bring his way. "There's a pretty good hot breakfast ration. Though...to be fair, we eat in the mess mostly."

"Good. Good," Maddie's voice grew quiet and the car drew to a stop, the crunch of the gravel below the tires the only sound that roughed up the silence.

Their doors were opened and the chill rushed in, pulling them both from this blip of warmth, of humor they had found in the cloud that followed them; the promise of departure. It was heavy and unavoidable and they desperately wanted to keep it away just a moment longer. Just a little bit longer. But the chilled air surrounded them and their fingers slipped apart as they stepped from the vehicle out into the drizzly afternoon.

Maddie rounded the car to him and was not at all surprised to find him waiting for her. He didn't take her fingers back into his, he reached instead for her shoulders, wrapping a strong arm around them and tucking her into him. With her arm wrapped around his waist, they fell into step up the walk. Their team stayed behind; loading into the cars, returning to posts.

And it was just them. Them and this slow pace Harry had fallen into. Maddie's cheek pressed to his coat, the wool rough and soft at the same time; his scent just everywhere. For a beat she closed her eyes, letting it all blow around her; the crisp air, the smell of him, the warmth from his body. She just let it happen—like so many other things around her.

"I think..." Harry's voice was slow as he pulled her tighter; wanting her closer. "I think when I get home we should have a serious discussion about my future with the Army." He felt Maddie's feet stop below them, felt the surprise rush to her brain even before it registered there and her eyes pulled open. "I think we should talk about what this is going to look like for our family..."

"Harry..." She shook her head, her emotions bubbling up and threatening to spill. Her hands pressed against his torso, hard and muscular from all of the workouts, trying to stop him. "You don't have to..."

"Shhh..." He squeezed his hold on her, bringing her closer. "When I get back."

"Harry..." She moved then, pulling herself from the warm confines of his arms and moving to stand in front of him; the wind tossing the strands of her hair every which way as they came to a stop outside their door. His hands seemed to not know where to go without her under his arm, so they pulled close; tucked into his pockets. And she shook her head, blinking at tears she wasn't ready to cry. "You don't have to leave something you love for..." She couldn't say it, not out loud, so she closed her lips; pressing them together in a pink, trembling line and she held his eyes.

Without comment, he turned his eyes from hers, looking far into the distance and he could hear his father's voice, he could feel his hand warm and strong on his shoulder and he could feel the bottom of his stomach giving out and he hated so much about what was happening right there—but he loved it even more.

Without words, he turned back to her. His hands slipped from his pockets and moved straight to her face; cupping her cold cheeks in their warmth and before she could speak, his lips were on hers; his mouth taking her next words.

Her body flinched in surprise; moving towards him instinctually—as she always did when he drew her in. Her hands lifted to his chest, her fingers curling as though they intended on fisting his coat in them, as though they had plans to jerk him closer. But they were full of the same sort of sadness as the rest of her and they fell flat against his chest; pushing inside his coat, seeking closeness to him. To his heart.

"Tomorrow," he whispered against her lips before he pulled away. His fingers stroked at her cheeks, his eyes pressing closed as he committed this version of her to memory. "Tomorrow I'm leaving something I love for another..." His hands moved from her face then. As one reached behind her to open the door, the other slipped into her coat bypassing her blouse and moving straight to skin. He needed the closeness too. His eyes pulled open and found her already watching him. "When I get home we're going to talk about it."

His words were final, his voice resolute and his eyes were the kind of serious she knew he held onto, he reserved, for moments when he meant it. He dipped back to her then, kissing her once more before he took a step back. His hand gestured inside, his forehead nodding in the same direction. Maddie let her hands fall from him as she turned and took the few small steps into their entryway.

Harry had followed behind, his eyes never tearing from her, his thoughts never straying as the door shut and closed them off from the rest of the world. As she unwrapped the winter from around her, shedding a scarf and a coat, slipping off boots and shaking the cold from her bones—he watched. His hands worked quickly over his own coat, over his own layers of wool and cashmere and before long they were done. Winter had been shed and the heat from their home was bringing a new color back to their cheeks.

The need he felt for her was primal. He felt it so much deeper than his bones, so much further than that pit in his belly. And the gasp that fell from her lips when he crossed the space between them and gathered her into him only strengthened that pull. Before she could gasp again, his mouth was taking hers and his hands were searching behind them for a place to steady their bodies—now pressing against each other madly. Finding the molding that ran the outline of the entry to their living room, his fingers wrapped tight and he moved her back against it.

And maybe he was rough, but she made no protest. In fact, her fingers had come alive once inside and were fast and steady as they pulled at his layers; the soft sweater, the starched button-down, the cotton t-shirt. They sought skin and found it with greed and delight.

Maybe he was emotional, but he made no excuses. The groans that pulled from his gut were telling. The tears that gathered in his eyes, in his throat, even more so. But he had never held back from her before, he sure as hell wasn't starting now. Not now when she was wrapped around him, when she was sighing against the palms of his hands, rough against the breast he had exposed. Not now when she was nodding her head as he pulled at her pants, not now when she was working over his buckle, when she was pulling at his belt, when she was moaning his name into his ear as she pulled at the red mess of hair he had buried in her neck.

He had taken her so many times before, in so many ways; in love, in lust, in need, in want, in happiness and sadness and the desperate need to erase or celebrate or fix. He had taken her before; in haste, in luxury, in the sweatiest mix of the two. He had taken her before with the intent to rid her mind of everything else, with the intent to claim her as his own, with the sole purpose of making her a mother.

But God...as they shed layer after layer there in their entry way, as she opened herself up to him, as her fingers pressed into the flesh of his back and her legs wrapped around him and she cried out as he pushed into her...

God. She had taken him.

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Morning had come prematurely, tearing them both from the escape they had created the night before. They were tired; emotionally and physically and in all the ways that counted. Everything about this deployment had played out differently than the one before. In stark contrast to the night before the last time, when they had spent time talking things over, making plans and promises—this time they said very little. There was very little left to say; very little left to convey that their silences couldn't get across.

At some point, deep into the night, after he had loved over her in a soft slow way meant to ease the rough desperation from before, they had tangled up in each other and they had given in; letting the night and the sleep take them.

And it had. It had wrapped them up and lulled them off and then, when it was over, it had tossed them right into the harsh realities of the morning. Striving to focus on duty and not emotion, they had stepped from bed together, they had showered together, they had let the night and all the fluff it had surround them with wash away. Together.

Harry left while Maddie dressed, smiling small to the ladies who had come to help; the staff who were there to prepare her for a day of duty. A day of responsibilities. He had nodded politely and stepped out of the room. He knew that his presence there wouldn't help her and now, as they faced what lied ahead, the least he could do was help her with this.

But it all happened so fast; just as his father had warned. And before they could run from it, it was time for her to go.

When Maddie rounded the corner of their staircase, dressed and done up for the event, she looked to the bottom. And there he was; sitting on the third to the last step, his bare feet resting on the floor. He didn't turn when he heard her, his eyes stayed focused ahead and there was a part of Maddie that didn't want to descend. There was a part of her that thought if she stayed there on the landing, if she didn't take another step that maybe she could hold off reality just a bit longer. Maybe she could hold onto him just a little bit longer.

Tears pricked to her eyes then and she wondered who had been the genius to decide that she should go out to an event at which she had to wear makeup and appear presentable. She already wanted to cry and she was only looking at the back of his head. Pulling her eyes from him, she turned away for a moment and blinked. A few deep breaths and she had it under control; for the moment.

It wasn't going to be easy—saying good-bye to him. It was going to be excruciating. But she had somewhere to be, she was part of the plan; the distraction. So she took a deep breath and began down the stairs.

He wasn't dressed in military camo. He was still as a civilian; jeans and a t-shirt, no socks, no shoes. He had done that for her, she had no doubt. He was going to change after she left, when he was alone and she, along with Kate, had taken the attention for a moment.

Her hand reached out to his head as she stepped next to him; sliding down his neck to his back as she lowered herself to the same step; careful in her heels and her ensemble. He reached behind him to take her hand, pulling around in front of him and holding it in both of his. Without a word, he bent to kiss her fingers, to hold her hand to his face; to feel her against him.

"The cars?" His voice was low and cracked as he spoke.

"Outside in ten," she answered, leaning her shoulder into his.

"Your staff?" He nodded to where she had just come from.

"Gone," she whispered; sniffing at her watery eyes, at the emotions that were swirling around in her stomach. They were alone in the house; this she knew for fact. Thomas and Bernard had given them these last few minutes of solitude before she was called to duty. Maddie looked to their joined hands, studying the muscles of his arms, the fuzz of hair on his skin, the length and girth of his fingers; the bracelets of support, the Ubuntu engraved one she had given him for their first Christmas together. And then she noticed what was missing. Her fingers stroked at his now naked ring finger and she cleared her throat. "Are you leaving it here?" That made sense in her mind; that he would leave it behind, not wanting it to get in the way of what he was doing, of his safety.

"No," he shook his head and reached into the front of his t-shirt; and old worn shirt from a Sentebale charity event. Pulling out the chain around his neck, his hand slipped down to the dog tags at the end and she saw it. The band she had slipped on his finger nearly seven months earlier on a chain around his neck with the tags meant to identify him.

"Ah." It was hardly a word, barely a sound, as her eyes filled with tears. "You're taking it with you."

"I am," he nodded and tucked the chain back into his shirt. He took a deep breath and steeled himself as much as he could and then he turned to face her; holding her hand tight in his. He looked her over and though he smiled, though he always smiled when he saw her, his heart sank in his chest. "Baby..." His head dipped to the side as he took in the look in her eyes.

"I'm trying," she smiled weakly, sniffing as she tried to recall the tears in her eyes. "I really, really am."

"I know," he nodded, looking her over. When he saw what she was wearing, he smiled; genuine and warm. "Is that my sweater?"

"Ha!" She laughed, despite herself, looking down at the soft, tan sweater she wore belted over a button down and a wool skirt. She had asked Rosie Tellington to work it into her outfit for the day and she had; beautifully. Her hands smoothed over it as she met his eyes. "I wanted part of you with me today. I hope that's okay."

"It is," he nodded, warming to her smile, to her laughter. "You know the press is going to recognize it. They'll comment for sure."

"Yeah," Maddie shrugged. "I don't care. They should get used to it. I plan to wear all of the clothes in your wardrobe while you're gone."

"Lovely," Harry grinned. "I'll have to keep that in mind for the times when you leave me."

"Ha!" Maddie's laughter filled in the awkwardness between them and they both felt a bit lighter. "Now that's something to see."

"It will be," he nodded as the laughter settled; faded.

And there it was. Everything.

"I love you Harry."

"I love you too." His words were out of his mouth before Maddie had even finished hers.

"Please be careful," she whispered, sitting closer and closer to him as the time moved past them. "I know you will. I know. I just..."

"I promise." He kissed her fingers again, holding them to his lips a little longer. "You know what to do if you..."

"Yes," she nodded, turning her hand to his face, running along his cheek as she turned him to look at her. "I do."

"Okay," he nodded. Taking a deep breath, he tried to move the conversation from the inevitable. "You be careful too. You know the North Pole is really just a giant piece of floating ice..."

"I know," she stroked his fingers in hers.

"It's not...actually land..." His voice faded. She knew.

"I know," she smiled; a strangled sort of expression she clearly had to work for.

"Yeah," he sighed and pulled her closer. Her hand slid to his knee as his arm moved around her; his hand strong on her back over to her shoulder. He had so much to say, so much he wanted to convey but the words weren't coming. So many words had passed between them in preparation for this moment; words of planning and logistics, words of love and need and want and...maybe the words were done. Maybe this moment was meant to be silent.

His head tipped down, his hand reaching across for her hand, pulling it into his. This time was different for him too. He was leaving so much behind; so much. She had balked at first, fought against it; against him. But she had come around. She had pulled from the well of strength he had watched her walk with for years. She had gathered it all in and put it together—for him. He knew she had done it for him. He wondered if she would ever really know what that meant to him, wondered if she would ever really understand that in this life, in this relationship, she was the heavy; she was the weight, the gravity, the center. He wondered if she would ever really get just how much sense she made in his life.

So many things to say without any words to say them; without any time.

It all happened so fast. It never slowed down.

And then it came; that soft knock on the door they were both expecting. Their eyes rose in unison; sadness and a touch of anger at the source of the interruption, at what it meant.

"That's Arthur," Maddie whispered, afraid that a louder voice would crack the fragile exterior she was grasping to.

Harry nodded; happy it was Arthur walking with her today. He knew she had mixed feelings about how this was all going to roll out; not sure she would be able to hold a straight face at the event she was headed too. But he knew that Kate was waiting in that car and honestly, he wasn't sure that he would be able to leave her if she didn't have a place to be, a place with those who loved her.

Maddie's hands tightened their hold on him; though she knew it was time to go. She twisted her fingers around his, blinking and breathing and trying. With one slow, deep inhale and one long slow exhale, she pulled her eyes to him and in a sweet, sad way that broke his heart, she asked, "Kiss me?"

Harry's voice caught in his throat and he coughed, fighting for clarity as he shook his head; a crooked smile on his lips. "I might mess up your make up," he warned.

Maddie nodded, her heart already hurting, her tears already threatening to do just that. With a squeeze to his hand, she rose to her feet and took a step away from the stairs, away from him. The loss of contact with him made her body ache. "Well we can't have that."

Her attempt at humor, at lightening up the moment fell flat at his feet. Harry's eyes swung to hers and blinked just once before he was off the stairs, before he had stepped right into her space, right into her. His hands moved around her, his arms wrapping and pulling and holding her as tight to him as he could possibly get her. Taking three steps forward, moving her back, he pressed her against the wall and lowered his lips to hers. And every single thing he had leaned into her; into that kiss. It was different from the night before; sweeter and softer.

Final.

Her hands pulled at his face, at the back of his head; wanting him closer. His clutched at the soft fabric of her sweater—of his sweater; needing to feel her.

And the knock came again.

And they pulled apart.

"I don't know how I'm ever going to do this," Maddie laughed, wiping at her eyes, her fingers sliding to her lips; the heat of him still there. "Smile and wave and shake hands and...I don't know how I'm going to do this."

"Just..." Harry swallowed and took a step back, giving her room to collect herself; to prepare. "Just imagine me right here." He cracked a smile and waved towards the stairs. "I'm just here; waiting for you to get home, waiting for you to tell me about the children who came out, the funny little curtsies, the hilarious things they say to you when they're trying to be adults." Maddie chuckled and watched as he took another step back. "I'm here with Bernard's pizza and some wine and you're going to tell me about whatever hilarious story it is that Kate tells you about Arthur and we're going to laugh and get drunk and fall asleep on the couch..."

"Harry..." Her hand moved to her chest as he took another step away from her. He had to step away; he was going to be too far away to keep her, too far away.

"I'm just right here."

Maddie nodded, knowing that it was ridiculous; she could play mind games as much as she wanted. But she knew the truth, knew it in her bones. She was coming home to an empty house; an enormous, sentiment filled, empty house. But for the moment she would allow her mind this tiny bit of reprieve.

"As long as we're living in this fantasy land..." She took a step towards the door and turned a smile to him; a genuine one—sad, but genuine. "Maybe we'll go for a run later?"

"Ha!" Harry laughed, his hand clutching at his chest as he nodded. "We'll absolutely go for a run later."

"Okay," she sighed and turned her body square to his; conscious of the distance he had placed between them when he moved back to the stairs; standing tall and ready to tell her good-bye. Maddie took in a deep breath and let it puff out through her lips. "I'll see you soon?"

"You will," he nodded; a solemn oath. "I promise."

"Okay," she nodded and a third knock came and she knew that they were only going to be patient with her for so long, they were only going to allow her these moments of weak humanity for so long. "I have to go." Her voice croaked.

"I know," Harry kept the smile on his face; despite the way his insides were crumbling. "Have a great day, Love. Tell Kate hello for me?"

Maddie nodded and turned away from him, reaching for the handle and turning. And she stalled, taking a few deep breaths before she turned back to him. "I..."

"I'll miss you too," he wrapped his arms around himself as he spoke; holding it all in. "I love you. More than anything. I'll miss you...terribly. And..." He trailed off, finding the façade of ease more difficult to keep up than he had planned.

"Pizza tonight?" Maddie supplied, seeing his waver and extending grace; the way they worked.

"And a run," Harry's eyes teared over.

"I love you Captain," Maddie smiled; wide and sure.

And then she turned away from him and pulled at the door. Without turning around to look at him once more, without turning to take in the way his eyes had welled over or the way his shoulders had slumped or the way he had to sink to the stairs at the weight of watching her go, at the heaviness of watching her pretend to be okay when she clearly wasn't—without turning to see the way this broke his heart too—Maddie stepped through the door of their home and out into the crisp air of London.

And the door shut softly behind her.

With her head held high and her eyes trained forward, Maddie walked right past Arthur and down the walk. She couldn't turn to look at him for fear she would break but she could hear him following behind her. She needed the space between the house and the car to pull it together; knowing fully well that seeing Kate would bring the emotion back to the surface.

She stepped up to the car and the driver reached for the handle. "Good Morning Ma'am," he nodded his hello; his voice soft and gentle. There were so many people in on this grand secret. Maddie met his eyes as she swallowed back sobs and nodded; thankful for his kindness.

"Good morning," she sniffed, her eyes flittering back towards the house just once before she slid into the car and the door shut behind her. She looked down at her hands for a moment before she took in a breath and glanced to Kate. Their eyes met for a moment of sadness, a moment where they both understood the breakdown that very well could take over the backseat. And then Kate, in a moment that Maddie would forever be thankful for, took a deep breath, pulled out a bright smile and did what she felt was her true job that morning.

"Would you like to hear the story of Arthur peeing on Will last night during bath time or...about how he spit up on a total of three ties this morning?" Kate bit at her lip to keep her own sadness at bay, to keep from crying at the look on Maddie's face, at what she knew lied ahead.

Maddie chuckled and took a deep breath. As the car pulled away from the drive and towards the gates, she lifted her head and laughed again. "Both. I think I'm going to need both."

And then she reached out, taking Kate's hand in her own and squeezed.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The click of her shoes drummed out a slow cadence as Maddie moved up her walk that night. The exhaustion pulled at her eyes, at her shoulders. It was hard work to put on the face, to pull up the small talk. It was hard work—pretending.

Not that it had been fake. Not that it had been disingenuous.

She was devoted to the work she did, she believed in the cause. Meeting the people, shaking the hands, smiling at their stories. All of that had been real.

The pretending came from inside; from the way she had to answer questions about Harry as casually as they were asked. The way she had to not shed a tear when she looked at the Union Jack flying in the breeze, the way she had to keep her thoughts from drifting during times of silence. The way she had to keep the smile frozen on her face when Thomas leaned in to tell her that the 'package had been delivered safely.'

The way it had taken everything she had not to laugh in his face and thank him in a bitterness that wasn't really meant for him. Thank him for delivering her husband safely to a war zone.

It was hard work—being present when she wanted to fade.

"Good night, Ma'am," Arthur spoke softly, not wanting to disturb her peace, not wanting her to feel the complete disconnect she was grasping for.

"Good night, Arthur," she turned a smile to him; grateful he had been with her that day.

And then she stepped through the door and she froze. And tears pulled to her eyes.

He wasn't there and she was done pretending.

She stepped right out of her shoes, leaving there in the entryway, in the path of anyone who dared to breach her sorrow that night. She dropped her clutch to the table in the middle of the room and she moved right past the step he had sat on that morning. She ignored the way her heart fluttered, she ignored the fact that he had sat her running shoes there in his place. She ignored the tiny inclination she had to laugh, to let in the warmth of that gesture. She didn't want to be that person anymore. She wanted to wallow.

She pulled at her gown, at her hose, at the pins that held up her hair and by the time she had reached their room, she was already transforming. She felt older and angrier and she felt his absence in every corner of her tired body.

She dropped her uniform to the floor in front of her closet and went straight for the laundry. She felt purpose and a bit crazed as she dumped the hamper contents onto the floor in front of her. But when she found it, the soft worn Sentebale t-shirt he had been wearing that morning, she felt the first breath of relief she had felt since she had woken.

She pulled it on, sucking in the scent of him, and then she stepped right over the pile and went for sweat pants, for oversized polo socks. She pulled his pillow from their bed and made a mental note to insist the staff not wash the cover. She pulled the soft thick chenille blanket from the large chair under the window where she liked to read and she left their room.

She didn't even bother to try to lay there that night; not that first night. She didn't even go through the motions of trying to sleep in the bed that was theirs, in the sheets they had been tangled in only twenty-four hours earlier. She kept her rings on, kept her head high and she went back down the stairs.

She saw the shoes.

She saw the note addressed to her on the stand.

She saw the jar of candy near the door.

She saw every single fucking reminder that he had left her that morning; every single good-bye he had orchestrated for her to find in his absence.

She saw all of it, but refused to acknowledge it. Not this night, not that moment.

She moved with purpose, with a rhythm and pace full of purpose and determination. She went first through their living room, to the mantle under the painting of Bendal, next to photos that told the story of them and she reached into one of the two identical round, port vases she had purchased for this. She pulled out one antique stone marble and she cursed the tears that slipped onto her cheeks as she worried it over in her fingers.

The sound of the one marble falling into the empty vase was loud and clattering and it resounded in her heart making her chest hurt.

Without bothering to wipe at her tears, without bothering to sniff away the sobs, without pretending anything anymore, she turned and moved down the hallway in the dark—to his office.

She didn't turn on a light, she didn't want to see him. She didn't sit in his chair or look through his jumbled hand written notes like she would at a later date—when she was searching for reminders of him. She didn't look at the framed photo of herself that sat on his desk. She didn't lift the well-worn ball he would twist in his fingers when he lost thought. She didn't look through the titles on the shelves, she didn't try to drum up his voice or remember the blue of his eyes.

As if she would ever be able to pull those away; as if it they would ever cease to be among the records she kept close to her heart.

Instead she moved to the long, soft leather couch.

They had slept there before. They had made love there before. When they had learned of his deployment, this had been the place where they had sought and found the other after they had pushed.

This would be where she would sleep that night; nestled in her throw and his t-shirt and all of the pain she had been pretending not to feel that day.

It was there that she let it all go.

The tears she had been holding back, the presence of mine she had fought to secure, the phone calls to family and friends that would have to wait till the next day.

The smile that would return after she had this night to sink, the upbeat positive attitude that usually walked with her, that would walk with her again...

She let it all go.

Closing her eyes, she finally let her heart feel the ache she had held off, she finally let the tears loose and the emotions wash.

And there, in his office, in the dark, on his couch, in his shirt, she let herself fade.