Wow, what a final episode! Here's looking forward to series 3!
I don't own, as always!
He was her constant.
He was the lifeline holding her in place when the waves came crashing down on her.
He was the rock on which she leant when she couldn't hold herself up at the end of the day, and the laughter that broke through her cloud of despair.
He was the mental support that stopped her going crazy.
He was the one to buy her a drink at the end of the day and reassure her that everything would be ok... even when he knew it couldn't, wouldn't, be so.
He was the demonic representation of all that she had once despised; he was the angelic front man of everything she had come to love.
He was brash, violent, angry and irrational; he was gentle, caring, warm and reasonable.
He was horrific, ugly, dangerous and terrifying; he was lovely, beautiful, safety and comfort.
He was mistrusting, misogynistic, sexist and judgemental; he was trusting, a protector, a saviour and a man of principal.
He was the villain of the piece, keeping her trapped in a world that didn't need or want her; he was the Knight in shining armour, chasing down dragons and beast to keep her safe from the brashness of the reality in which she found herself.
He was the man of her nightmares, haunting her and dredging up all those qualities that thirty-odd years of feminism had lead her to despise; he was the man of her dreams, saving her and keeping her in the sanctum of his heart and his arms.
He was a soulless, empty, shell of a man who never let anyone in; he was a man full of life, of depths she couldn't hope to plunder, who would only let someone incredible inside his life.
He was the infection that seeped into her bloodstream and held her in this damned place of hell; he was the drug that could cure her, that would make her better and send him home.
He was hatred and he was love.
He was rage and he was passion.
He was sadness and he was joy.
He was disgust and he was acceptance.
He was anticipation and he was surprise.
He was anger and he was fear.
He was disappointment and he was optimism.
He was shameless and he was remorseful.
He was contempt and he was submission.
He was a whirlwind, a blur, a storm of both worlds she had inhabited wrapped into one, challenging her every thought process and her every belief.
He was a permanently unbalanced scale, on which each side wobbled and the axis on which it rested become less clear and less discernible.
He was both sides of the line, and he was the blurred outline of the distinction itself.
He was lustful and he was affectionate.
He was hostile and he was welcoming.
He was contentment and he was vengefulness.
He was incomprehensible. He was a torrent of unreadable facts and notions and figures and theories which all counteracted one another to create a mass of something she couldn't begin to understand.
He was daunting and he was a stronghold.
He was hell and he was a heaven.
He was the Devil and he was the Angel.
He was the villain and he was the law.
He was his own man one minute, he was hers the next.
He was the sunlight on her face and he was the rain on her skin.
He was the place she ran to and he was the monster she hid from.
He was her compass and he was her lost navigator.
He was the most underestimated and difficult man she had ever had the fortune to meet.
He was a closed book, a bolted door and a sealed bottle.
He was the prisoner and he was the guard.
He was everything she hated and he was everything she loved.
He was everything she needed and he was everything she wanted.
He was Gene, and he was constant.
He was constant...
The only constant.