She’s sitting on the cold, dirty grating, staring down through the gaps between each little flat piece of steel, wondering what she’s still doing here. What she’s really still doing here. Nothing has changed, after all, and nothing will change. She can’t. He can’t. Neither of them will. And yet…And yet she’s still here, still waiting, still hoping – for what? For some miraculous event to bring them together? If Miranda and all they went through then couldn’t break them out of this self-sabotaging rut they’re both trapped in, it isn’t likely anything can.

She brings the cold, rough edged cup to her lips, the tin flavoring the young but strong alcohol within and she winces at the taste; revels in it at the same time.

For a minute she lets herself imagine, lets herself believe she could bridge the gap between them. Pretend it would all work out, that they could live happily ever after; let herself love him, let him love her, if only for a little while. Have that much at least. But every time she sees Zoe, sees the devastation, the shattered pieces held so tightly they’re on the verge of crumbling…

Sighing, she sets fire to the dream, charring the straining timbers that reac