21st of February, 1955

Dear Bracey,

I know all too well about vargtimmen, the hour of the wolf. I spent far too much of my life in that dead time. After three...but before five, just on the edge of dawn when everything you've done or didn't do, everything you've lost and never found again comes flooding back to you. I have been there. I lived there for longer than I even want to remember and I'm sorry for the time you're spending there.

As for your memories, your life, it's real because it's a part of you. It made you who you are. It keeps making you who you are. Don't waste another day trying to piece together a puzzle that's already complete. You are Edwin Bracewell and that is all you ever need to know.

To answer your question of; what then? Then when that day comes, you come and stay with us. You catch a plane and you come here to us. We're your family and that's what family is for. Papers, identification, an entirely new identity is a trifle. We can handle that so don't even give it a second thought.

I know how to you feel, I know what it's like to see your life stretched out ahead of you and know that at some point you'll be walking alone.

I know when Rory is going to die. I know I told you that already, way back in 1943 but every so often it hits me. Every so often I realize that each day we spend together is another day checked off.

Barring the unexpected I have 34 years left with my husband. It sounds like such a long time but I realize it will be over just like that.

All we have is all we have, I suppose.

You're not the only one who's a bit glum. Every so often I get a surprise phone call from Churchill. He says I help to chase away his black dog.

I spoke to him early last year and he said,

You'd never vote for me would you, my dear?

I replied, Winston if you were running unopposed I'd check an empty box.

He laughed so hard I thought he might have another stroke.

He's had two you know.

He went on to say that I was past the acceptable age of being a liberal and I told him I was born labour and I'll die labour. Or I suppose Democrat, over here. And I added how dare he make mention of my age!

I have a date with old Winston. I promised him that the day before he died we'd have a long talk and I'd answer just about any question he ever had. I'm glad I'll be able to be there for him in my own small way.

In the end that's all we have...being there for each other.

Write more. Call more. Visit us. Don't be a stranger.

All my love,


A/N Thank you guys for your positive words, that really, really helped boost my confidence. I'm so very glad you're not bored! :D

Apparently Churchill fought depression all his life, and not just "the blues" but serious, suicidal depressive tendencies. He called it "the black dog".

"I don't like standing near the edge of a platform when an express train is passing through. I like to stand right back and if possible get a pillar between me and the train. I don't like to stand by the side of a ship and look down into the water. A second's action would end everything. A few drops of desperation." - Winston Churchill (1874-1965)"

Oh and I think I'm going to start uploading this story to A03. You guys will of course get updates first but I figured it would be a fantastic excuse to re-read what I've written so far and edit all my dumb mistakes.