The ghosts of the past of course lingered, unwelcome on Verity's mind for some time as she settled into the role she had lost around a year ago.

It felt alien at first, she had half worried she had lost her connection with people - her own traumatic experience with Tommy Shelby having paralysed her psychologist skills much akin the way a viper might immobilise it's prey.

But a few weeks of battling her demons, and dozens of cups of tea and chats with Henry soon made these worries dissipate. The psychiatrist had reminded Verity of her worth, of her abilities and the fact that she was simply remarkable at what she did.

And after experiencing so much hurt, betrayal and anger in her past life... Verity was wary to accept Henry's kindness at first, but he soon proved to be a genuine, and very trustworthy colleague.

It was safe to say Verity had returned to her calling much as a sailor belonged on the sea.

Still, despite the normality of her new life cementing in place and the past life of late nights, sultry songs and cigarette smoke in her lungs ever fading... there was still one fragment the psychologist was not willing to let go.

And that was a dear child by the name of Charlie.

She knew it had been risky when she first sought contact. Verity made an agreement with Charlie's music tutor to smuggle letters in for her. The psychologist so badly wanted to see how that boy was doing, he was the only pure light in that dark cavernous-like family... she almost felt it her duty to let him know she still, and would always care.

Of course, the anxiety of Tommy finding the letters and seeing her return address was prevalent - but since the first communication Verity had made it clear to the little boy that he mustn't let his father see the correspondence. For extra security, she had asked the tutor to retain the letters after Charlie had read them, and then the music teacher would also be responsible for mailing on Charlie's own responses so no letters were left laying around.

It was an entirely odd situation to say the least, feeling like writing to a young boy was so incriminating. What made things feel even worse for Verity was that this child was so aware by now of his father's own behaviours, the power he held and the negative influences they had. If she had been able to she would have just whisked him away, one thing Verity felt strongly about was preserving whatever childhood that boy had left.

-

Dusk had fallen, the days were clocking by faster than ever now that the clinic was in full swing. The heat of summer was ever ebbing away, and long nights of sweet sunset hues were slowly being replaced with browning leaves and dominating blue sweeps of night fall across the evening skies.

The lamp in the office provided some illumination as Verity typed this month's letter to the young Shelby boy.

By now they had gotten into such a rhythm of knowing when to expect letters that they had started using abbreviated code names in the letters, for extra protection. Verity still wasn't sure how on earth this young boy grasped and appreciated the severity of her request for privacy on this situation, but she deeply appreciated it. It just humbled her that he was such an intelligent, kind and understanding young boy. He was everything that his father wasn't... which was a blessing.

'Dear C,

It's Wisteria again. I hope you have been well, and that your lessons are still going good. How have the horses been? I bet you'll miss summer, all those long days you spent hacking around the estate.'

Verity paused, her fingertips wavering tentatively over the flat round keys of the typewriter.

'I know I write this all the time, but I miss you, young man. You always put a smile on my face, come rain or shine. Do let me know how you are, I look forwards to hearing from you.

Love, Wisteria x'

The psychologist sighed with a laboured breath, removing the brief letter from the typewriter and preparing a slim brown envelope.

She felt awfully closed, she never really let on too much in the letters, the fear of Tommy finding them always lingering in the back of her mind. She wished she was able to speak to the young Shelby boy, or to see him. He often sounded unenthusiastic about most things in his letters if it wasn't about the horses.

Slipping the letter into the envelope, Verity sealed the correspondence with wax and set aside on her desk, aware of movement coming from Henry's office next door. He often stayed late too, keeping up the patient records and such from the clinics he had done that day. It wasn't uncommon for them both to work late into the night, sometimes they would even take turns cooking dinner and bringing it into the office.

"And that's another day done!" Henry's voice suddenly piped up, as Verity noted the stifled sounds of his stretching as he left his office and rounded the corner to her own, his tall figure leaning casually in the doorway, his smart grey shirt and tie somewhat slackened after the long day, black suit jacket clutched casually over his shoulder.

"Home time?" He queried, eyes softened in a genuinely caring manner that Verity hadn't been used to for some time.

Smiling wearily, Verity agreed with a small nod, gathering up her coat and the letter in hand, locking up and following her colleague down the winding stairwell out of the building.

She was acutely aware as they stepped into the cool night air that Henry had been talking enthusiastically about something, gesticulating madly with his hands as he laughed - but Verity was all but centred in one of her recreations of the past. Although they were growing more infrequent as of late, they still hurt none the less when they stung her mind.

She was staring at the cobbles under foot, aware of the texture of the envelope under her fingers as she thought about the smile on Charlie's face at his birthday party, how they danced together. Of course this then led her thoughts onto the other details of the night - Scarlett's extravagant gown, Polly's initial vindictive stare ... but most prevalent was the fact she could almost still taste the whisky on her tongue from that intoxicating first kiss with the Blinder that destroyed her life.

"Verity?"

His voice brought her back, and the psychologist was so terribly tuned into the fact there were tears in her eyes and her heart was palpitating madly in her chest.

Her hazel eyes drifted over to Henry, glassy and avoidant of capturing his gaze. The psychiatrist saw the hurt, and he had worked with Verity and been supportive to her long enough to see she was mentally revisiting past trauma.

"You're having a panic attack." He noted, "breathe with me, ok?" His soft Scottish accent was much welcomed in the stormy seas of her mind.

Taking a deep breath, Verity copied the motions of her dear friend before her. Drawing a deep breath in... holding for some few seconds and then releasing the tension in a long, exhaled breath of air.

Once they had repeated this enough time for Verity's breath to calm and her heart to still slightly from it's racing pace, she quickly wiped at her eyes and sighed in frustration.

"I'm sorry Henry. I'm supposed to be the one helping everyone else and here I am, stuck being tortured by my ghosts." She snapped to herself bitterly, continuing to walk as Henry caught up, pacing at her side.

"You're too hard on yourself. Would you expect a patient with this level of emotional abuse to never be upset by it?" He asked, as the two stopped by a letter box - Verity slipping her mail to Charlie into the red opening.

That question irked her somewhat, because she knew he was right. It was easy for her to be so cruel to herself, whereas if she was treating a client she would tell them that trying to scold themselves for the scars of their abuse would do no help at all.

"Don't ever apologise for me for feeling the way you do." He urged her, hand laying softly on her shoulder, "I think I know better than anyone the shit you've been through."

Verity smiled wanly, he had managed to clear her mind and rouse her smile once more. It seemed Henry had a magic ability to make anyone feel at ease.

"You're too sweet. How anyone would want to thwart your reputation I'm really not sure." She chuckled, a pure truth behind her words.

Her heels clicked on the cobbles as the pair continued down the lane, as usual Henry took to walking Verity back to the cottage to ensure she was safe.

"I could say the very same about you." He smiled genuinely, a bashful gaze about his striking blue eyes. There was a momentary comfortable pause, the two professionals having made it to the bottom of the lane.

"Well I suppose I will see you tomorrow." Verity sighed, drawing a deep breath as her eyes made out the shady silhouette of the bridge that arched prettily over the night soaked By Brook.

She turned to face Henry, a smile occupying her lips that seemed pretty much impossible to subdue.

"Thank you, truly. I had a lot of 'friends' cheat and betray me before I met you. I want you to know you have my trust."

There was a silent few seconds where Henry just seemed to absorb those words, and it seemed he knew very well how much that meant - having seen and heard first hand how Verity had struggle so much with trust issues since being hurt.

"What can I say - I'm truly very honoured." He replied wholesomely, "it seems we have both found a very dear friend in one another."

Heart swelling, Verity reached out and gently squeezed Henry's hand, holding his gaze tenaciously with a tenderness to her eyes.

"We certainly have." She confirmed in a direct tone, leaning in and chastely kissing his cheek. It didn't feel like the heat or passion of lust of intense infatuation - it felt sweet, wholesome and caring. She treasured his friendship and guidance a lot, and in that moment she felt that small gesture conveyed a lot of her emotions that her lips could just not speak.

Fingertips releasing the psychiatrist's hand, Verity bid him goodnight and started her way back up towards the cottage - the soft yellow lights twinkling in the pretty flower basket lined windows.

She was aware with each footstep of the gravity of this new life - so far in itself it had been a real blessing to work and find friendship in such an idyllic setting. Now all she could hope was for her demons to go running and take their silly replays of memories with them, for she wished to replace the catalogue of sad times with happy ones, ones that she would willingly wish to replay.

-

A/N: sorry this is only short! I'm trying to 'ease' back into this story as it's been quite a while since I wrote it. I promised you all an update, I do apologise it's taken me this long to get around to it! Work is hectic at the moment!