CHLOE

I can't bring myself to tell Harry about my history with Chris. I can't bear to imagine the look of disgust on his face, or worse: being pushed away and abandoned. Not that I would blame him - I have had many weeks to be honest with him, but I have chosen to keep the truth hidden this whole time. I have preached to him about trust and honesty, and berated him when he wouldn't tell me anything about himself, yet I have kept this from him. My own hypocrisy is unbearable.

The atmosphere in the car is subdued once we are going again. After my revelation to Harry I allowed him to comfort me for a short time, but then insisted we continue travelling. I feel exposed and vulnerable after opening my soul to him, and I need time to come to terms with him being the only one in the world other than me who knows the secret of my shortlived pregnancy. We stop once more to fill up the car, and only when we are past Chelmsford and heading towards Basildon, where even the back roads are becoming more and more built up, does Harry ask suddenly, "Chloe - where the fuck are we?"

I am surprised it has taken him this long to wonder. Taking a deep breath and praying he isn't going to hit the roof, I answer meekly, "We're just east of London - heading back to Broadstairs."

His eyes widen in horror and he whips his head around to stare at me in evident disbelief. "What the fuck are you talking about?! We can't go back there! The police will be all over us in minutes!"

"Hear me out," I begin, flattening the page of the atlas on my lap with the heel of my hand. "It's the last place the police will be looking, now they know we were in Dumfries -"

"We don't know for sure that they traced the call!" he exclaims, and a little fleck of spit flies from the corner of his mouth. "We can only assume! The truth is, we haven't a clue how much they know, or where they are looking for us right now!"

"We can be fairly confident," I argue, with a shake of my head. "And we've covered some decent ground in this car, with the real number plate and with the fake. If what you said about the owners of the car being gone for the day is correct, the likelihood is that they're only just realising it's missing. The police will have to trace it by number plate recognition to Newcastle Airport and it'll take them hours to realise that we didn't abandon it there. Until someone reports this number plate stolen and it's flagged on the Police National Computer, we're completely under the radar. I do think once we've got to Broadstairs we should ditch this car, though, and continue on foot or use public transport."

Harry rubs his face with his hand in despair. "Chloe... you've managed to come up with some brilliant plans along the way, girl. But I hate to say it... I think this one is fucking nuts. We're going to walk straight into a trap if we're not careful. You have too much of a link to the place. It's a dead giveaway."

I knew he would react this way, probably because deep down I know his concerns are valid. But as my nightmares have become more and more vivid and frightening I feel an overwhelming desire to be somewhere familiar; somewhere comforting. Since I have no one to rely on for support (other than Harry in these recent weeks), the only place I can gain any kind of solace or feel any sort of connection is the place I was brought up, and the place my parents are laid to rest.

"I understand your point," I reply, my voice pleading, "but it's not like we have anywhere else to go, is it? I never got a chance to visit my parents' grave again before we left. I never got a chance to say goodbye to them. And once we figure out what the hell we're going to do, we could both end up in prison."

The longer our escapade continues, the more I am coming to the realisation that there can be no happy ending to this. We have evaded capture for too long. Even putting Chris' death aside, our list is crimes is extensive. We have perverted the course of justice, stolen a car, stolen a number plate, used fake names and identities and survived on stolen cash for weeks. There is more than enough evidence to send us both to prison. I am trying not to think about this, as the idea of being taken into custody gives me heart palpitations, but it seems the logical conclusion. The police are not going to excuse our actions, particularly as a man is dead and the culprit is on the run. This could be the last chance I have for a long time to be close to my parents.

Harry says nothing and continues to follow my directions without any further argument, crossing the Thames via the Queen Elizabeth bridge rather than using the tunnel, passing through Chatham, Sittingbourne and Faversham before eventually succumbing to the major A road for the final half hour to Broadstairs. We have covered probably close to five hundred miles today, and mostly along winding lanes and country roads. How Harry hasn't fallen asleep at the wheel I have no idea, as it is now nearly eleven p.m. and we have been driving since first thing this morning; he must be running purely on adrenaline. As we turn onto the main road leading through St Peters and the church comes into view ahead of us, Harry turns to me, a frown on his face visible through the darkness.

"You're not going to the grave now, are you?"

"No," I shudder, my skin crawling at the thought of walking through a graveyard in the dark: it is simply too close to the subject of my nightmares. "No, I thought we could pitch the tent on the beach again and come back here in the morning before we head off again."

"Seems a ridiculously long way to come just for one night," Harry grumbles, and I suppose I can't blame him for feeling resentful at driving non stop for this length of time without a proper break, to the place we left only a week or so ago. Or has it been longer? I'm not even fully aware of the date, since all the days have merged seamlessly in a blur of heat and exhaustion. I catch him stretching in his seat, twisting his back left and right before rubbing his neck with a grimace. He is more than due a decent rest.

I stare wistfully at the weathered stone walls surrounding the church as we pass, uttering a silent promise that I will see my parents soon, before directing Harry the final couple of miles past my old house, round by the smugglers' caves and down to Joss Bay. Harry pulls into the small car park to the right of the entrance to the beach and kills the engine, plunging us into darkness, before closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the seat with a tired sigh.

"Thank you," I tell him softly, and he opens one eye a crack.

"What for?"

"For driving me here. For driving all day. For letting me have my goodbye with my parents even though you're scared we're going to get caught." I give him a tentative smile, and he gives me half back.

"Not worth the aggro arguing," he murmurs.

"Come on," I chirp, giving his thigh a gentle slap with my hand. "I'll put the tent up. Just give me a hand with the bags and I'll do all the work."

He doesn't argue, but hauls himself out of the car and together we retrieve our various rucksacks from the boot and make our way down the concrete slope onto the beach, squinting in the darkness; the only light that from the moon ducking in and out from behind the clouds. Once we are in the shelter of the cliffs Harry pulls out a torch from his rucksack and holds it up for me while I hastily shove the plastic canes into their slots and feed them through the fabric tubes to erect the tent. We throw all our belongings inside, unroll our sleeping bags and lie down side by side, listening to the soothing sound of the waves crashing gently on the shore and rushing up the beach.

After the stress and excitement of today I am surprised to feel instantly calm as the tension melts away into the sea air. Beside me Harry shifts onto his side, propped up on his left elbow, his head resting in the palm of his hand. "You OK?" he murmurs. "After earlier, I mean. Telling me all that personal sh- stuff."

I roll over, mirroring his position and tucking my knees up towards my chest. 

"I'm OK," I sigh. "It was sort of a relief to tell someone after all this time. It's been a weight around my neck for so long."

He nods slowly and thoughtfully, his eyes sliding out of focus as he trains his gaze on the fabric wall of the tent behind my head. After a minute or two of silence Harry emits a deep sigh of his own, and I feel a knot of tension begin to form in my stomach as he murmurs in a defeated tone, "What are we going to do, Chloe?"

It is sort of unfathomable that after a month of being fugitives from the law and having not really much else to do apart from think and plan, still neither of us has a clue what we are doing. It is almost laughable, if it weren't so tragic.

"I don't know," I answer softly. "I really wish I had a solution. But I don't think there is any workable option other than turning ourselves in and dealing with the consequences. We can't run forever. You have a family waiting for you, Harry. Your son needs you. The longer you run, the worse it looks and the harder the law will come down on you."

He has rolled onto his back while I have been speaking, his hands balled into his fists now covering his eyes. "I knew you were going to say that," he mumbles.

"I'll tell them everything," I assure him fervently. "I'll tell them Chris grabbed my wrist, I'll tell them how he frightened me, how he tormented me for months, years, and that you were protecting me. I'll tell them I was afraid what he was going to do, and how aggressive and violent he could have been if you weren't there. I'll stand up for you, Harry, and so will everyone else. The whole estate knows what Chris was like. Now he's dead, they don't have to fear the repercussions of telling the truth. With a good lawyer they'll go easy on you, I'm sure of it."

"Then what was the point of all this?" he moans, pulling his fists from his eyes and gesturing around us. "What was the point of running all this time just to turn myself in? It just makes me look even more guilty."

"I'll tell them how scared you were. I'll tell them you were terrified of going to prison again and letting Dylan down. I'll tell them how tormented you've been this whole time about what happened and how sorry you are. And with good behaviour in prison you'll probably only serve half your sentence at most. And you can get help, Harry. You can speak to a counsellor, start working through some of the issues from your past. You can literally start fresh when you get released; draw a line under your old life. I know it will be a hard punishment, but surely the sooner you start it, the sooner it will be over. The sooner you can start living the life you deserve."

"I don't even know what that life will be," he mutters. "What if Sofía won't let me see Dylan once I'm released? What if he's grown up by then and doesn't want anything to do with his murdering father?"

"You will have to prove to her, and him, that you have changed," I tell him softly. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy. It will take every ounce of strength you have to make yourself the better person you want to be. But I know you can do it, because I can see how much you love Dylan and how much the idea of losing him is hurting you."

He is quiet for a few moments, seemingly mulling all this over. When he speaks again, his voice is clearer and stronger. "What about you?" When I cast him a questioning look he expands, "They'll throw the book at you, too. For aiding and abetting a criminal, or whatever posh name they give it. You've helped me escape. You know you're going to get into trouble for that, don't you? You might even go to prison yourself."

"I know," I reply, my voice trembling. "Believe me, that terrifies me. but there are worse things I could face, and deep down I know I'm just prolonging the inevitable by continuing to run. I'm not streetwise enough to survive on my own on the run. Not without you."

He frowns at me in confusion. "Without me? You're the one that ran this whole operation, mostly. I wouldn't have made it out of London by myself! If you wanted to go your own way, I wouldn't stop you. And I wouldn't grass you up, either. I promise."

I shake my head forcefully, the beginnings of panic stirring in the pit of my belly. Doesn't he realise that I am nothing without him? Doesn't he realise that he is the only thing keeping me alive, physically and emotionally? Without Harry, I would cease to exist. Prison is not what I am most afraid of, not by a long shot, although I can't deny the idea of being locked up among the  most violent and frightening women in the country terrifies me to my core. But worse, far far worse than losing my freedom, is losing Harry. And I don't mean losing Harry by him being locked up too. I mean losing him to Sofía. Because I can't lie to myself any longer: I know he loves her. The pain in his eyes when he talks of her betrayal of him to the police is obvious. He talks of there being no way back for them, but that is because he thinks she wouldn't take him back, not the other way around. He has a history with her, a life, a child. There is nothing more powerful than creating a human being with someone to link them to you forever. Harry has changed so much over these last few weeks, and I can tell he has so many regrets where his relationship with Sofía is concerned. She is the mother of his son, and I can't compete with that. His life is with her, not me.

"If you turn yourself in, I'm coming with you," I tell him. "I'm not running on my own. I need to face up to my part in this. And once it's over I'll come back here, to Broadstairs, and you'll sort things out with Sofía, and between us we'll have our happy endings."

He growls under his breath. "Why are you so convinced I'll get back together with Sofía? I'm facing years in prison! She won't wait for me - why should she? Why would anyone?"

"Because you're worth waiting for!" I snap at him, raising in my voice in frustration. "And if I can see that after only knowing you - the real you - for a couple of weeks, then she will see it too!"

"Would you wait for me?" he demands, his eyes flashing between mine, his brow furrowed in a deep frown.

"Yes," I answer immediately. "Yes, Harry, I would wait for you. I would wait for you forever if I thought I was the one you really wanted. But I'm not; I know I'm not. You love her and I'm not going to stand in the way of your happiness if there's a chance you might be able to make it work. And I'm certainly not going to be second best."

"You... it's not what... second best..." He is fumbling for the right words, but they don't come. He doesn't deny he loves her, and he doesn't assure me I wouldn't be second best.

I shift my body across the floor of the tent to close the gap between us. He reaches for me, pulling me into his embrace and holding me tightly against him as though he never wants to let me go. "I'm sorry Chloe," he whispers into my hair.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I whisper back. "You can't help who you love, just like I can't help who I love." 

He looks down at me, his eyes searching mine for a moment. He almost looks as though he is about to speak, but at the last second he bites his lip and says nothing. We stare at each other in silence for a few seconds before I reach up to his face, cupping his cheek in the palm of my hand and drawing his face down to mine. His lips are soft, warm and familiar. 

"I need you, Harry," I whisper against his lips when we break apart. "Just once more. Just for tonight. And then tomorrow we're going to work out exactly what we're going to say, and we're going to go to the police and tell them everything."

He hesitates only a second before his lips are on mine again. His fingertips caress my cheek, my neck and my collarbone before he reaches down and lifts the hem of my tshirt, trailing his fingers up and over my ribs to cup my breast gently. I moan into his mouth, already aching for him, digging my fingers into his hair and pulling gently at the roots. He removes my top and my bra in seconds, his fingers fumbling at the button of my shorts while his mouth trails soft kisses across my chest to each nipple in turn. I want to savour every second of this bittersweet goodbye but so desperate am I to feel his skin on mine and the warmth from his body that I tug impatiently at first his tshirt, and then his jeans until he is wearing only a pair of soft jersey boxers. He pulls my shorts and knickers off in one, his movements as hurried and keen as mine. His fingertips skate up my inside thigh, brushing softly against the slickness between my legs. He moans softly, the vibration against my nipple causing my own involuntary murmur of pleasure. He lifts his head and I stare unseeingly n the darkness until I can just make out his eyes gazing into mine. However could I have thought his soul was as black as night? 

"Do you trust me?" he whispers.

"You know I do." 

He dips his head again, swirling his tongue around my nipple one last time before planting gently kisses slowly in a line down my body towards my waist. I am on pins waiting for the feeling of panic to come but all I can think about his how gentle his tongue is, and what it would feel like against my most private, intimate part. I don't have to wait long to find out. He reaches the top of my thighs, dips his head between them, and then I feel something warm and wet sliding against me, sending the most incredible jolt of pleasure to my core. I hear myself cry out, desperate for him to do it again, my fingers digging into his hair as he slides his tongue against me again, and then again, until it is flicking side to side in a continuous pace and I am unable to control the bucking of my hips. It probably takes less than thirty seconds and then I am coming, harder and more powerfully than ever before, crying out his name and arching my back, my toes curling in ecstasy. I'm so relieved I never let him do this to me. I'm so glad my first experience of this is with Harry, because I know no one else would ever have been be able to make me feel this good.

He waits until my body relaxes and I fall quiet before he lifts his head to look at me. I don't trust myself to speak. He eyes me for a couple of seconds, before dipping his head slowly again. I feel a fleeting sense of panic that this is going to feel far too sensitive, but I am wrong, so wrong. His tongue glides against me again, agonisingly slowly, and I let out another soft moan as he begins again, far more gently this time, stretching one of his arms up and caressing my nipple with his fingertips. It is even quicker this time, probably less than ten seconds before I am coming again, less powerfully but warmer and more comforting this time. This time as my orgasm begins to fade Harry doesn't stop. He continues massaging me gently with his tongue, and before I have even fully finished I have started again, less powerful once more but still enough to make my hips buck and my eyes close. He gives me two more orgasms, one after the other, before he finally pushes himself up to a sitting position to regard me with vague amusement and a slice of self satisfaction.

"I think I enjoyed that almost as much as you did," his voice drawls from the depths of the darkness. Normally I would want to hide my face in shame at this deeply personal remark regarding something so intimate, but I am too spent to care. I reach for him and he leans down to me and allows me to wrap my arms around his neck. Turning his face to mine in my hands, I pull him to me and kiss him, ignoring the unfamiliar taste and loading as much emotion and sincerity as I can into the embrace. He isn't in love with me, I know that, but I am in love with him, and if tonight is the last night we will be together I need him to know that for me, it is the most important night of my life.

He seems to melt into my arms, lowering his full weight onto me as we kiss, his arms either side of my head and his hands running through the ends of my hair fanned out beside me. I part my legs to allow him to nestle between them, and reach down to push his boxers over his hips so he can nudge his tip against me. I slip my hand between us, curling my fingers gently around his length and guiding it towards me, letting him slide easily inside me and sighing softly as he does so. I close my eyes again and pull his head down onto my shoulder as he moves inside me, slowly at first but soon picking up into a smooth, steady rhythm as I wrap my legs around his waist. I want him deeper, deeper inside me; it is the only way to quell the yearning I have for him. I miss him; I am grieving for him already because although he is here in body, I can sense he is no longer here in spirit. 

I know this is the last time. I know once we have been to the police we will never be together again, not like this, not intimately. Everything will change and for one last night I need him to be mine. Not Sofía's, not Katie's, not Colette's, not anyone else's who has ever given him this moment of pure, unrestrained pleasure. Just mine. I need to him to be my Harry, just Chloe's Harry, before I kiss him goodbye forever.

He is getting close, I can tell, and to my surprise so am I; I hadn't believe I was capable of another, but as he is grinding against me, sweat dripping from his forehead onto mine, I feel a gentle wave break and I moan softly just as he covers my lips with his and moans into my mouth, his hips jerking uncontrollably, riding his own crest. 

He slows, dragging out the last few strokes before coming to a stop and laying his head on my shoulder. I stroke his wet hair with my fingertips, ignoring the sweat pouring down his face, and close my eyes to relish the final moments of my Harry. 

"I love you," I whisper softly, and he finds my hand with his and squeezes my fingers gently, his breathing heavy and his heart beating hard against mine. We stay like this, long after he has slipped out of me, long after he has fallen asleep, long after the tears have stopped leaking from the corners of my eyes and soaked the sleeping bag beneath us, long after he has ceased being my Harry. 

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Five more chapters to go, and the next update will be tomorrow night - a little weekend double update for you because I just can't stop writing this now we are on the final stretch. Thank you for reading, and if you would like to leave some comments/a vote I would be very happy xx