A/N: Edited 8-12-2017

Elle's facecast: Natalie Dormer.

Playlist: He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother- The Hollies

Disclaimer: Sutter/FX own SOA

Present day….

I couldn't pin-point when the change occurred but in this instant it was plain as day. I could only assume it was because I was accustomed to not hearing the familiar roar any longer. It had been two years since the sound was a regular part of my routine. I never realized how acclimatized I was to their obnoxious noise. It was here and now, that it became clear to me how much I missed that familiar rumble of engines. The streets were too quiet, the parking lots seemingly empty, the highways decongested. I missed the thrill of non-confinement that accompanied the lifestyle of their kind, and the vibration of freedom from sitting atop a chopper. I managed to keep myself busy enough to not notice the absence from my life but now it was front and center, it threatened to overcome me.

I felt a lump form in the back of my throat. It was hard enough to be surrounded by still images of them but, to stand here – every morning – waiting to see if they'd show… was heartbreaking. I hoped beyond all hope they would come even after all this time. It was painful to find those hopes dashed every evening when I closed up shop. I had to be disturbed, or foolish to ever think they'd - he'd - want to see me again. I prayed for any sign, or rumble, or the tremble of the ground at their close approach, only to be disappointed when nothing came.

With each passing night my wish was extinguished. Only to be reignited the very next morning upon opening. I couldn't explain why I continued to set myself up for the disappointment. The exhibit had been on display for almost a month now, and I had yet to see any of them. I toyed with the idea that the invitations were lost in the mail, but I doubted that to the highest degree. They didn't want to see me. He didn't want to be reminded of what we couldn't have.

I rounded the reception desk, sighing as I went, and flipped the closed sign to open. Simultaneously turning the lock. I propped open the door, holding it with my shoulder, shoving the small wooden wedge stopper in the crease of the frame. Another day, another hopeless attempt at reconciliation. I was destined to miss him for the rest of my life. Could I live with that? I guess I had no other choice.

I flicked up the half dozen light switches, watching with watery eyes, as each section of the gallery lit up. My memories brought to life in front of me; my first real love re-lived through strangers. I shuffled through the display to the end where I concluded the exhibit. I stared up at the floor-to-ceiling capture. It was one snapshot I'd kept a secret, never showing him. It was raw with emotion. If nothing ever came of my reaching out, than I would at least have this memory immortalized.

I signed up to tell their story not to cultivate my own. It was theirs that needed to be said. I had done my job in doing just that, even if it was at the expense of having my own buried. I wiped the single tear that escaped and stifled the sob beginning. My assistant chose that particular moment to appear from behind the back wall. Misunderstanding my sorrow for compassion, she came and stood beside me, nodding her head.

"This has to be the best shot of the entire collection." She commented, "I understand why you saved it for last. It draws quite the crowd."

I didn't respond but stared at the scene in front of me. It was aptly named The Outsider, referring to myself. I didn't need the questions, or comments, that would follow if it was common knowledge that I was the woman in that picture. I never felt I needed to divulge that information. It was too intimate a moment for the two of us.

However, in that moment I didn't quite care who was around. I knew my assistant was observant and I also knew I could trust her to keep her findings to herself. She understood the gravity of privacy that surrounded this collection. She was one of the only people I confided in when it came to this project.

Of its own accord, my hand rested above my breast tugging on the chain around my neck. I always kept it hidden, fearing that someone would connect it to the man in the pictures but it was my last connection to him. My assistant caught the movement and watched me from the corner of her eye. I pulled the necklace out, brandishing the large silver Reaper ring. She furrowed her brow for a split second before her eyes widened as the dots connected.

I held his ring against my lips relishing in the feel of the cool metal against my skin. I closed my eyes pretending that it wasn't his ring pressed to my mouth but something else. A few stray tears fell and I felt my assistant's fingers curl around my free hand. She squeezed as I whispered a name I had been too afraid to speak aloud.

"…Happy…"