It's perfect. Eggs, bacon, orange juice, and the waffles are steaming. She could make a sandwich if she wanted. She giggles. She takes the syrup and pours it generously.

"Well, don't use it all at once, now," says Joel. His censure hits about as hard as a pillow these days.

"Nope," she says, "just enough."

"You got it all over your bacon," he points out.

"That was on purpose."

"On purpose? Well…" he scratches the side of his head. "Times do change…"

It's a gorgeous morning in Joel's dining room. Warm sunlight pours through the window. It's Saturday, they can do whatever they want. And they get to spend it together. Ellie's smiling even bigger on the inside.

"Clint likes to make sandwiches with this stuff," she says, mouth full of waffle.

"Which stuff?"

Ellie looks back blankly then gestures to everything on her plate.

"Really?" says Joel. "Well that might not be bad… I prefer 'em separate, though." Joel takes a swig of orange juice. "You and him, you're close these days."

She narrows her eyes. "You know we're just friends."

Joel chuckles. "Yeah, yeah I know. I'm just sayin'. Makes me smile, seein' you getting along with kids—" he stops himself, "—folks, your own age. You deserve that." He cuts a bit of waffle and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. He swallows. "Time was, that'd be just about your only job, at 14. Times are different now, but this Jackson life." He inclines his head. "It ain't bad."

Ellie's knowledge of the before-times are academic at best. But she can't disagree. She grins, mouth full of food. "Yeah… not half bad."

Thinking about Clint moves something at the back of her mind. There's a tremor in the ground.

Joel's eyes widen. "Oh… so soon?"

The land of the rising sun and the land of the setting sun have joined hands.

There's another tremor and the light from the window dims. She can barely see Joel anymore.

"I was hoping we could…" Joel begins.

"Joel?" she says, confused and scared.

"Don't worry, girl, I'll always be here."

The dimming continues until everything is dark, and she's not anywhere anymore.

"But I—"

She can still hear Joel's voice. "It's okay, it's okay."

She's drifting away.

"Tommy was right, you know," Joel's drawl drifts to her through the void. "You are a treasure, that's a fact."


Ellie's face is warm. The light is bright through her eyelids. She squints them, groaning. She turns slightly, but the light persists.

She tries to raise her arm, but her body is heavy. She tries harder, and pulls it up from under the blanket, shading her face. She grunts.

She opens her eyes. The light is coming from the sun, just peeking around the corner of the window by the bed. She turns, and Clint is there.

He's slumped comically in a chair by her bed, sleeping.

"Clint?" she says. Her voice is gravelly from sleep.

He starts, but his eyes are still closed. He rouses himself slowly, rubbing his left eye. He half opens them and sees Ellie. He jumps up in his chair.

"Ellie? Oh crap, you're awake. Hey." He's still half-asleep, but he leans forward. He yawns, stretching his arms out wide. He rubs more sleep from his eyes, and chuckles, resting his arms on his knees. "So what's it like to have half a brain?"

Ellie blinks. "What…? Half a brain?!"

He laughs. "I'm fucking with you, dude. How do you feel?"

She sighs in exasperation. For a split second she thought something had gone wrong in the surgery and he was serious. "Asshole. I feel fine. I mean, half dead, but fine."

"You were just out really hard."

"How long?"

"Like sixteen hours."

"Holy crap."

"Yeah, guess you needed it."

Ellie looks down. Her right arm is on top of the blankets. There's an IV in it. "Did it go… okay?"

"Yeah, it went fine. As far as they can tell. Dr. Ikeda says they always monitor patients after neurosurgery for unpredictable side effects."

"Unpredictable—"

"They're rare, really rare, don't think about that. Anyway, it went fine. But I should really get them, they'll want to—" He starts to get up.

"No," says Ellie, "no, not yet. I want the lowdown first."

Clint settles back into his chair. "Alright. Like what?"

"Did they make the cure?"

He chuckles again. "Well, they said it would take weeks, probably. If what they got is enough at all. But they're working on it, hard, trust me."

"Ugh," says Ellie. Was this shit ever going to end? The light from the sun is just blasting her in the face. "Man, can you do something about this fucking…" She gestures to it.

"Oh, you don't like getting blinded?" Clint gets up and drops the blinds, moving them to diminish the sunlight. The room is still pretty well lit.

"Did you guys drink all the champagne while I was out?" Ellie asks.

"No champagne yet. Cure first."

Ellie reaches up a hand toward the left side of her head. "Is it bad?"

"Oh, it's horrible," he says. He's being a dick. "Should I call you baldy now?"

Ellie stiffens. "What?" She touches around the left side of her head, then her fingers touch bare skin where there's definitely supposed to be hair. "What the fuck!?"

Clint fails to suppress a laugh. "I know they told you they would have to do that."

"Did they shave like half my head?" she asks, fingers probing frantically.

"No," he's still laughing, bastard. "Ellie, it's not that bad."

"Give me a mirror."

"I'm telling you—"

"Mirror!"

Clint makes a helpless gesture with his hands. He looks around. There's a little table next to the bed. He opens the drawer and sorts through it. He ends up picking up a metal tray, dumping what's on it, and handing it to Ellie.

She holds it up so she can see her reflection in the steel, turning her head. Pulling some of her hair to the side, she can indeed see a bald spot on the side of her head, maybe an inch and a half in diameter. And now she can see the incision, probably about an inch. It's perfectly straight, and the stitches are tight and professional.

"Damn it…" She plays with her hair. She should be able to cover it for the most part, but it looks super dopey.

"That's your biggest concern?"

"My biggest concern is being alive!" she says, a little too loudly. And with that, the mood changes. It's awkward for a second. Ellie drops her head on the pillow, and the tray on the bed next to her.

"Yeah," says Clint, taking the tray and putting it back in the drawer, closing it. "Mine too."

Laying in bed, Ellie's body is nice and comfortable. But other than that, she doesn't know what to feel. Except relief, that's there. That's for sure.

She looks at Clint. He's got this little smile. He takes a deep breath. She should say something but there's nothing there. He speaks first.

"I know you felt like your time had finally come," he says.

Ellie frowns slightly. How could he know that?

"Like it would be right, for you to die in the operating room. That's what was going to happen at St. Mary's, right?"

She stares.

"It wouldn't have been right, though," he says. He's thinking, hard. He starts nodding. "It wouldn't have been right. You've been through all this labor, all this fighting. You've taken little. You've sacrificed a lot. You deserve a reward, not…" he gestures, looking for the word, "…rest."

"Rest is a reward," says Ellie.

He looks at her, sad, but not arguing. "You want to go back to Jackson, right?"

Her eyes are getting misty. She breathes fast through her nose and looks away. She nods.

"I'll take you, then," he says.

She looks at him and keeps nodding. She means it now. She wants to go back. She wants to see them again, touch them again. She wants to get Clint back to May, too.

He pats his legs, standing. "Time for me to report."

"I just—" Ellie starts. Clint looks at her. "You said this could take weeks?"

"They really can't say for sure."

Ellie sighs.

"What?"

"I'm just ready to be home."

"Me too," says Clint. "Me too, Ellie."


And the weeks drag on. Ellie sees the doctors, now and then. Usually, they've got creased brows, talking quietly but urgently. Debating. It's in Japanese, so Ellie can't follow it. Sometimes, they're excited, though, and she can hear them postulating in their rapid, angular language.

And for her, maddeningly, little changes. For over a week Grayson keeps her caged up in the same ward, and Ellie is just about at her limit. She finally corners him in the conference room and begs for him to let her go outside. He pinches his cheek, but he relents. He lets her go out with Clint, Abby and Lev, and a few more guards.

The Fireflies have cleared a few outside areas of the Med Center. So they take a stroll around. The feeling of a cool Summer breeze on her face, an open blue sky above her, is heaven.

There's a lot of pavement and sheer concrete buildings, but any areas of open earth have been reclaimed by nature. Tall grass and adult trees provide lots of green and shade. Seems like the soil near the twin rivers of Sacramento is rich, allowing plant life to thrive.

They come across an old fountain. It's actually running. A few weeks ago they had succeeded in restoring water pressure, which had substantially boosted morale. Running water, warm showers, the toilets even worked again, with a little tooling. Although command had warned that unmaintained infrastructure could change things at any time.

And this fountain had certainly not been an intended side effect, but here it was. It's a wide, circular basin, maybe fifteen feet across, with multiple tiers of basins above it, all running with crystal clear water. They look at it for a few seconds in silence. Then Ellie puts one foot on the lip of the lower basin, steps up and falls in backwards.

There's a loud splash and a shock of cold all around her body. Not Wyoming Winter cold, though. Just refreshing cold. She lets her body float to the surface. She opens her eyes and Abby is the first face she sees.

"Ellie, what are you doing?" she hears, the words muted and distorted by the water.

"Anything," Ellie replies.

She sees Lev stand on the edge, back to the water.

"Lev—" Abby starts, she even reaches for him, but he closes his eyes and fall sin backward.

Ellie laughs as the shockwaves from his splashing entry push her body.

Abby shakes her head and turns around. Clint leans in and says something to her, and she scoffs.

No one else gets in but they let Ellie soak for a few minutes. She kicks her feet and drifts slowly around the man-made pond. At one point she passes Lev, and they exchange smiles.

Eventually she climbs out and they resume. The guards say they have another hour. "Alright, alright," says Ellie. After a little while in the bright sun she's mostly dry again. They enter a little copse of trees between two tall buildings. Sunlight filters through the leaves. It's a warm day, and the shade is really nice. Ellie sits down against the trunk of one of the trees. Miraculously, the others have given her distance. So she just relaxes and enjoys the reprieve from that damn medical wing.

She reaches up and touches the area around the incision. The hair is just starting to grow back, little more than stubble. It would take years to grow all the way in.

After a few minutes, she hears footsteps approaching. She looks up, and it's Abby.

"Nice spot," says Abby.

"Was," says Ellie, but she doesn't mean it. The two of them have settled into an acceptance of the other, accompanied with a healthy dose of tongue in cheek sniping.

Abby doesn't respond and approaches a tree a few feet ahead of Ellie. She crouches down and sits against it, similarly to Ellie. She doesn't say anything, glances around at the sunlit branches above them. Ellie narrows her eyes.

"You've got something to say," says Ellie.

Abby appraises her.

"Ah," says Ellie, nodding. "I get it. You're here to ask for Clint's sweet hand, in marriage."

Abby's stunned. She wants to say something but she can't, she just looks away and scoffs loudly.

Ellie laughs. "I'm just fucking with you." She thinks. "Think I'm setting a bad example for Lev?"

Abby frowns. Then it clicks, and she scoffs again. "What, with the fountain? No… Honestly, Lev could use more chances to just be a kid."

"He's growing up, you know."

"Well, he ain't grown yet." Abby seems firm about that. "I've got a question for you. What are you guys gonna do, if they finish the cure?"

Ellie frowns faintly. "Get our asses back to Jackson," she says as if it's obvious.

Abby nods. "What's Jackson like? Looked kinda like a prison with those high walls and floodlights."

"A prison?" Ellie asks, lifting her had off the tree behind her. "I mean, I guess it's supposed to look intimidating, but those walls are just for protection. Jackson is…" She looks into the distance, trying to put it into words. "Jackson's the closest thing to a normal place to live there is anymore."

Abby screws up her face. "What's 'normal?'"

"I say that…" Ellie trails off, thinking of Joel. "I say that because that's what Joel used to say. He meant… Jackson is as close as you can get to what it was like before. Pre-outbreak."

Abby watches, frowning, but interested. "And how's that?"

Ellie considers Abby. Thinking about it, Abby might have no way of knowing. Ellie shrugs. "You don't have to be afraid of dying all the time. You get a job. You get notes, currency. You can be sure of your next meal. The law is upheld, but not like FEDRA. Not like… fucking authoritarian military government shit. It's not restricted to enlisting or… being a stooge making meals for the military or sewing up wounds. There are bakers, tanners, gunsmiths, movie theaters. Popcorn. Candy. Bookstores and cafés."

Abby's still frowning. "And what do the workers do?"

"What do they do?" Ellie asks. Abby's not getting it. She really does only know this life, with the Fireflies. "Everything I just said. Basically whatever you're good at. It doesn't have to be much, you just have to work. You might have to fix it yourself, but you can have your own house or at the very least a room. I don't know how to explain, it's not like here. Everyone's not on the same schedule. Maria's the mayor and what she says goes, but she's not issuing orders to every citizen. There's patrol, to keep the area safe. And the guard, to keep the town safe. Everyone else just lives life, like—" She thinks of Catalina. "Like all those people I saw in the town, in the bay, on Catalina."

Abby nods, understanding. "Civilians."

"I guess, yeah, but we don't even have a use for that word in Jackson." Now Ellie's frowning. "Why are you so interested?"

Abby's a little uncomfortable, Ellie can tell. She works her mouth and looks around, thinking.

There's a flutter and they both look up. A bright blue bird lands on a branch not far from them. It watches them with interest. It hops on the slim branch a couple times, bobbing it up and down. It cheeps at them, then takes flight and disappears through the limbs above. For a few moments, there's nothing to say.

"Would you take us back to Jackson?" Abby asks suddenly.

Ellie is taken aback. "W… what?"

Abby sets her jaw. "I know it doesn't make sense, just listen… Lev is not meant for a place like this. For one thing, he's a kid. For another… he's got a big heart."

"You can't have a big heart in the Fireflies?"

"People don't serve here to live," says Abby. "They serve in the hopes that someday, other people can live."

That's a pretty bold and profound statement. Ellie didn't expect it from Abby. She doesn't reply.

"That shouldn't fall to Lev."

"What about you?" Ellie asks. "I thought you were a Firefly for life."

"Me, too…" Abby admits. "But Lev won't go without me."

"I know."

"And the work here is almost done."

"There'll be plenty of work after, if they even make the cure."

"I know."

"You want out?"

That stops Abby. She looks away. She looks… guilty. She makes up her mind and looks at Ellie. "A little. Yeah. I do."

"How much does this have to do with Clint?"

Now Abby's taken aback. "That's not… I don't… come on, that's not it."

The corner of Ellie's lip curls upward. "It's not?"

Abby expels air, exasperated. "Look—"

"They know about you in Jackson, you know."

Abby pauses.

"You could even say you're infamous."

"I figured."

"So you'd need me to escort you in."

"I would."

"And you're asking."

"Yeah," Abby finishes, "I'm asking."

Ellie rests her head against the tree once again. She looks around for the blue bird, but it's gone. She draws in a deep breath, filling her lungs all the way, then releases it.

"Acceptable," she says.

"Really?" Abby actually sounds surprised.

"Jackson is a free city, I can't tell you not to go there."

"Yeah, but… what you just said, about me being infamous—"

"I said acceptable," says Ellie. "Better take it before I change my mind. And I'm thinking about the road back to Jackson, too. You could be helpful."

"Yeah, that's a thought," says Abby.

The two girls stay there a while. Some things drift through Ellie's mind. Things maybe she should say, could say. She sees some thoughts pass over Abby's face, as well. But in the end, the two just sit together for a while, in silence.


When they get to the room, they find Grayson, Ikeda and Watanabe waiting for them. It's a lesser-used conference room on the other side of the floor from command. Grayson's seated at one side of the table, toward the end, and the doctors are standing across from him. Sun streams through the windows. It's early afternoon. Grayson gestures for them to sit.

"Class time! Make yourself comfortable."

Ellie walks in, Clint and Abby close behind her. They sit in the same order, next to Grayson.

"Is there going to be a test?" Ellie asks.

Dr. Ikeda smiles, and shares with Watanabe, who laughs. He says something to Ikeda.

"No, but I bet you'll pay attention anyway," she translates.

"What is this, exactly?" says Abby to Grayson.

"The good doctors are ready to update us on their progress. They invited you all—well, no, they invited Ellie and she twisted my arm to get you two in here. So you obviously owe me one, Andersen."

Abby glances at him and makes a tss sound with her tongue.

"Thank you all for being here," says Dr. Ikeda. Ellie really likes her accent. She must have gotten a lot of practice speaking English in Japan, because she's honestly better at it than Ellie. "It will take a few minutes, but I will break it down as well as I can." Ellie tries not to blush. She's a growing fan of the younger doctor. "Are you ready?" Dr. Ikeda finishes.

Ellie glances at Clint. He returns her looks like I dunno, I guess? Ellie actually laughs. "We're ready," she says.

Dr. Ikeda clears her throat.

"Cordyceps hominis manducans is not the first fungal infection that humankind has dealt with," begins Dr. Ikeda. "There is a long history of treatment of fungal infections from institutions around the world. Primarily, the concern has traditionally been for those who have compromised immune systems. And treatment is generally successful as long as the infection is correctly diagnosed early enough.

"There are a few antifungal medications, but the one that is most effective against cordyceps is amphotericin B. It is powerful, so powerful that it must be dosed carefully so as not to kill the patient. However, even this treatment has proven unequal to the CHM. It merely slows it. Nonetheless, it is component number one of our experimental treatment."

Dr. Ikeda reaches into a pocket and pulls out a vial, placing it on the table in front of her, almost like a shogi piece. It contains a translucent, yellowish fluid with sediment on the bottom. She looks at Dr. Watanabe and asks him something in Japanese. They converse briefly, Dr. Ikeda nods, and continues.

"Cordyceps—the cordyceps in question, that is, there are hundreds of other species—evolved to attack the human brain both quickly and ruthlessly, which is generally how the fungus succeeds. Whether the infection is begun in the blood, in the lungs, or through the skin, it always takes root in the brain. It generally begins in the auditory cortex, spreading into the sensory and motor cortexes, at which point its effect begins to become evident in a living human. This happened to Ellie, as well."

Hearing her name, Ellie lifts her head from the hand it had been resting on. "Well, what was different about me?"

The doctors confer in Japanese again briefly. It looks like Dr. Ikeda just wants to keep Dr. Watanabe in the loop. She nods again.

"For you, Ellie, it was your body's immune response. The immune response is not monolithic. In fact, it is enormously complex. Think of it like the military; it's not just an endless marching mass of soldiers. It is soldiers, medics, tanks. There is an air force, and a navy. There are intelligence operatives, and communications specialists. This is all an allegory, but I'm saying there are many aspects and stages of an immune response.

"Cordyceps, for its part, has proved a strange and ruthless conqueror. Not only does the average infected person's immune response fail, it is a total failure. This is why immunity, or, put another way, the survival rate, is virtually zero."

"Then how am I still here?" Ellie asks, growing agitated.

"Yes," says Dr. Ikeda, "I will explain. We used the samples you provided us to test your immune system in a hundred different ways. More than that. We wanted to see what was your secret to winning. And, in test after test, your immune system, like most, would fall before new cordyceps infection. Then, finally, we discovered something. The answer was in your B lymphocytes.

"B lymphocytes identify antigens—invader cells—and flag them for attack by the rest of the immune system. So B lymphocytes are kind of like scouts. The problem with cordyceps, is that despite its genetics remaining generally unchanged, its antigens are never the same. They disguise themselves. So we cannot vaccinate against cordyceps the way we might for other infections. Trust us, we have tried.

"Somehow, though, your B lymphocytes see through the illusion. The story of your infection is this: the infection began normally, as cordyceps multiplied and spread through your bloodstream, largely unnoticed. Here and there, your B lymphocytes must have encountered this new threat, and signaled attack. But a broader response is only called for once a certain threshold is reached.

Cordyceps succeeded in taking this window to take root in the auditory center, as usual. At this point, though, your B lymphocytes finally perceived the true extent of the threat, and sent out the call for a total immune response, and from there, the war began.

"Normally, while growing through the brain, cordyceps causes rampant destruction. Destruction which enables its most emergent life pattern…"

Dr. Ikeda trails off, looking unsure of itself. She looks to Dr. Watanabe, brow pinched. They have a short exchange. Dr. Ikeda takes a breath and addresses them again.

"It is this destruction which actually enables the penultimate and most critical stage of its growth, which is the deliberately altered behavior of its host."

The room is quiet. Grayson's head rests on his fist, and it looks heavy. He nods subtly.

Dr. Ikeda continues.

"However, in your case, due to the proactive nature of your B lymphocytes, battle was on in full. The growth of cordyceps could not be prevented, but destruction of brain tissue was thwarted at every turn. And these battles, for you, I imagine resulted in a powerful headache."

Headache? Ellie remembers laying on the ground by that railing, just rolling back and forth in pain, holding her head.

She's breathing fast. She keeps thinking of Riley. Why couldn't it have been her, instead?

They're looking at her, waiting for a reaction. But that's the last thing they're going to get. Ellie looks at the floor. Eventually, Dr. Ikeda continues.

"Eventually, the growth of cordyceps was permanently halted, and the war was won. Technically, it lives on, alongside your brain, but it will never grow again. It has lost."

"Now, what about—" begins Grayson.

"So what do you do?" Ellie asks. She suppressing tremors. She's holding down her anger. "How are my lymphocytes or whatever going to help anyone else?"

"That brings us to component two," says Dr. Ikeda. She reaches into her coat pocket and retrieves a small unlabeled vial, which she places on the table in front of her. It contains a perfectly clear liquid. "The keystone. Immunoglobulin E. Supplements such as this have been used in the past to boost compromised immune systems. In this case, we believe that this substance can induce a patient's B lymphocytes to react as Ellie's did, and alongside the antifungal amphotericin, maximize the chance of the patient's survival."

"Could that work?" asks Grayson loudly. "Like right now?"

Dr. Ikeda is taken aback. She confers with Dr. Watanabe. He speaks for longer this time, to Grayson. Dr. Ikeda translates.

"Lab testing has shown strong results, but this testing is limited. The only way to know the true efficacy now would be live treatment."

Grayson balls his fist briefly, frowning in concentration. He covers his mouth with his hand, thinking. "Maybe we can talk to local factions…"

"Sir?" starts Abby.

He considers her, and the rest of them. He leans back in his chair and issues an exasperated laugh. "Jesus, Watanabe, I didn't know you were this close." He looks at the three sitting next to them. "Well, I'd have waited longer to bring you into this, but… We can't infect someone on purpose, obviously. But if we could get our hands on someone who was arbitrarily infected, even if they were from a local faction, we could test this thing. They might cooperate if…"

He looks away again, distracted.

Ellie is staring at the vial of clear liquid on the table. She's rubbing the two fingers of her left hand gently.

"Immunoglobulin A through D didn't work out?" Clint asks.

Dr. Ikeda is confused, then she smiles. "No. Actually, it was Dr. Watanabe that insisted on the name." She looks at Ellie with a warm expression. "The E is for Ellie."

Ellie goes still. She feels warmth in her cheeks. "What…?"

Dr. Ikeda says something to Dr. Watanabe. He starts smiling too, and responds.

"Um…" Dr. Ikeda thinks. She translates. "You are one of the best patients I've ever had. Credit where credit is due."

Ellie doesn't know what to say. She's kind of embarrassed. She looks and Abby's looking her way, with a similar expression.

Clint's face is a bit incredulous, but also touched by wonder. "Holy shit, Ellie…" he says.

Ellie looks back at the little vial. "Can I…" she says to Dr. Ikeda.

She nods. "Oh, yes! Go ahead."

Ellie takes the vial of immunity. She cradles it in her hands. Could it really contain something so precious.

"Almost there, mom," she whispers, quiet, so no one else can hear.


Dr. Ikeda let me keep the vial of immunoglobulin E. I put it in mom's cigar box. I guess they're able to make more, in batches, but not a lot at a time. Grayson said they are planning operations to secure facilities for that purpose. And for the amphotericin as well, which he said 'does not grow on trees.'

And in any case, the treatment still needs to be tested.

Lev was super excited, and tried to get me excited as well, but I was still kind of shell-shocked. I don't want… I just don't want to get my hopes up. That's my right. After everything I hoped for, and lost… I'll get excited when it's time for it.

Clint gave me a hug, and Abby squeezed my arm, which was actually a surprising gesture from her.

Grayson must be in a hell of a good mood, because I talked to him and he gave me permission to 'take a walk' with Mara. He told me not to go outside, is all. And I succeeded in buttering Mara up, too, so today gets high marks.

Mara's great. She was right, she's not. But she's sure up for a good time. And it's… you know, it's nice, just to lay next to someone. She told me about the family she's lost, and I told her about Jackson. She says she understands. She says you find family, too.

Abby and Lev. I'm still… I mean it sounds crazy. Bring them back to Jackson. I fled Jackson two years ago with the express intention of seeing her dead. I mean, that's gone now. I'm kind of surprised she wants to go. Based on what she's told me, there's bad memories there.

But of course, she didn't see the other side of Jackson. All the good. She's curious, I saw it in her eyes when we talked about it. She could fit in there. It might be rocky at first. There are some people who won't want her there on principle. I know I could get them in, though. Especially if we're bringing… you know. The thing. With us.

I'm not gonna say it until it's time.

Lev would do well there. He wants a girlfriend so bad. He doesn't say it openly, but it's obvious. I think he's a total romantic. With his terrific personality and those cheekbones, I bet he'll be a total ladykiller.

Still… it's a long road.

And when is Grayson gonna let me go? That's kind of a major sticking point.

God, I miss Dina. I feel a little guilty every day I leave her wondering where I am. I know she thinks of me. Maria too.

And I don't even want to write about little J.

I don't pray, but I pray for him. I just… I reach into the universe and just will for him to know how much I love him.

I'm so glad he's surrounded by love where he is. I'm glad he has Dale to play with. I want to play with him again.

[Tear smudge.]

And I will.