AN: This one's a long-un'. But it's the last chapter, and I had already planned on thirteen chapters, so the end got squished. So here it is. The very, very end of this horribly long journey. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen:

Darkness.

Cain was shrouded by cold, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end. This place . . . He had a bad feeling about this place. It was frightening . . . and familiar, like a story – no, a nightmare – come to life. Creatures stalked and slithered just beyond sight. He could sense them watching, waiting.

"Help," someone whispered from the dark. "Help me."

Cain blinked several times, attempting to focus on the voice. "Is someone there?"

"Help me," the voice wailed. It was a girl. She sounded frightened and lost and hurt. "Please, help me!" She was becoming more insistent, more hysterical.

"I'm here," Cain said as soothingly as possible, turning slowly in the darkness. His limbs were heavy, sluggish. The air was like mud, sliding down his throat and coating the inside of his lungs. He was suffocating, slow and painful breaths becoming shallow, harder to draw in.

Cold fingers grasped his hand, and he shivered, looking down to find a small girl, no older than five or six, holding a lantern that emanated a soft, yellow glow around them both. Her blonde hair was streaked with gray strands, the curled locks pulled into pigtails on either side of her head. Her eyes were a dull blue – a familiar blue – and her skin was pale, almost translucent. Her tattered dress – a faded moss green color – fell just below her knees, dirty-white trim lining the hem.

"I'm scared," she whispered, her fingers trembling in his own.

"Why?" Cain asked softly, his parental instincts taking over. He lowered himself to his knees, meeting the child eye-to-eye.

"I can't find my brother." She bit her lip and looked from left to right, her pigtails swinging and bouncing with the motion. "It's so dark. I think I'm lost."

A chill ran down Cain's spine, and he shuddered, squeezing her hand and offering a reassuring smile. "We'll find your brother. What's his name?"

"Jack," she said, and the tin man's chest tightened.

He swallowed hard, taking as deep a breath as he could. "And what's your name?"

The girl cocked her head at his odd behavior. "Jilly. Papa calls me Jilly Bean. You look like my papa. Do you know him? Did he send you to help me?" The little girl's voice was getting higher and higher by the second, hope evident in her tear-laced eyes.

"Yes," Cain lied, a little more easily than he would have liked but knowing the child needed to hear it. "Yes, your daddy sent me to take you and Jack home. He misses you."

"Mama too?" Jilly asked in a trembling voice.

"Mama too," Cain confirmed with a nod. "I made them a promise. You'll see them soon." The girl offered a watery smile and sniffled, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "Where was the last place you saw Jack?"

Jilly looked around, uncertainty twisting her lips into a frown. "It's too dark. I don't remember."

"Can you try?" The tin man urged, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him again, more tears streaming down her cheeks.

"We weren't supposed to. Mama told us to stay away, and I told Jack we would get in trouble, but he never listens to me," she said, somewhat inaudibly. "I'm too little. He doesn't do what I tell him, even if he gets in trouble."

"I know," Cain nodded, trying his best to be patient with her. "Big brothers can be mean sometimes. But you have to remember that he still loves you, no matter what. Now, we need to find Jack, and that means you have to tell me where you were when you lost him."

Jilly sniffled, taking a few frail breaths before saying, "We were at the wall. He wanted to go to the other side, to see what was there. I told him 'No,' but he went anyway, and I followed him so I could bring him back. But there was a scary man."

"A scary man?" Cain questioned, eyebrows furrowed. As far as he knew, there weren't any human beings living on the other side of the wall, none that he had been told about.

The girl nodded vigorously. "He had black hair and shiny eyes, and he smiled really big with big sharp teeth, and his monsters chased us away." She whimpered. "But we fell down a hill, and I lost the bucket that Mama gave me, and when we got to the bottom . . . Jack wouldn't move." She started to cry again. "I tried to make him get up, but the monsters were still coming, and I screamed and ran away. I left him! I left him with the monsters!" Jilly collapsed into Cain's arms, sobbing into his shoulder as he rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"It wasn't your fault," the tin man said. "You couldn't do anything. We'll find him. Everything will be all right."

The girl sniffled and nodded, taking hold of his hand as he stood again and giving him the lantern to guide them.

0 o 0 o 0

The wall stood at over twenty feet, smooth gray stones held together by nothing more than an enchantment that the very first Dorothy Gale had cast to keep her kingdom safe. Cain and the girl came upon a large opening in the wall, a v-shaped entrance—or exit, depending upon which side one was on—where the stones were cracked and broken. Someone, or something, had smashed their way through this wall, and the tin man was not at all certain he wanted to find out what.

"He's in there," the girl whispered, clenching Cain's hand tighter and easing herself behind him. "It's so dark. I wish Papa was here."

"Stay here," Cain ordered, starting toward the wall with the small lantern in hand. He glanced over his shoulder and gave the girl a reassuring smile before turning back to the wall with a grim look on his face. "Hello?" He called, stopping just short of the opening and squinting as he peered into the darkness. "Jack?"

A figure, suddenly, appeared before him, and he was startled, taking a step back. His eyes widened as he immediately recognized who was standing on the other side of the wall.

"Ambrose?" He asked cautiously, looking the man up and down. The air in his lungs felt like it was turning to dust. He could barely breathe. This man was different, much too different to be the Ambrose that Cain had come to know over the past several days. His eyes were black, they glimmered eerily from the small amount of light emanating from the lantern, and his hair was knotted and stringy, reminding Cain of cobwebs. The clothes that the Ambrose look-alike wore were the same that the tin man had first encountered Glitch in, a ratty and faded version of the palace garb, only these were gray, covered in grit and dirt.

Cain swallowed, taking a breath before asking, "Do you know where Jack is?"

The figure cocked his head, inspecting Cain studiously.

"Ambrose?" The tin man tried again, and the other straightened, as if, suddenly, realizing the name was his. "I have to find Jack. Have you seen him?"

"Ambrose" stared at him a moment longer before nodding his head in a jerky motion and pointing a crooked finger over his shoulder. Cain followed the direction the other man was indicating, searching for a moment before the light of his lantern glinted off of something—a metal pail.

Cain started forward, but "Ambrose" stopped him with a raised hand. The tin man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but the other's intent gaze seemed insistent, so Cain stayed, watching as the look-alike turned and started off into the darkness.

The tin man waited for what seemed like hours, his heart racing at every muffled scream that echoed towards him from the gaping black, every howl of the biting wind that blew over the wall's opening but never passed through to Cain's side. Still, the blond man stayed put, refusing to listen to the whispers that kissed his ears.

"Run, run as fast as you can."

Cain clenched his teeth, closing his eyes and shaking his head against the demand. He would not leave, not until he had done what he had promised to do. His eyes snapped open as the murmur of footsteps sounded. They grew louder and louder until a faint outline formed in the distance, and "Ambrose" appeared from the darkness. In his arms he held a small figure, a boy.

The look-alike halted at the opening, carefully transferring the unconscious boy into Cain's awaiting arms. The tin man smiled down at the seemingly untouched child, who looked quite a bit like his sister, then looked up again at the stoic figure. "Thank you." The look-alike nodded once and turned to leave. "Wait!" Cain called, and "Ambrose" stopped, his emotionless face staring at the man blankly. "Come with us."

The other man merely shook his head solemnly, turning once again and disappearing into the black. The tin man frowned but did not stay, turning back to where the young girl awaited the return of her brother. She stood where he had left her, eyes wide and trained on the darkness behind him.

"It's all right, Jilly," he said as he approached her. "Jack's here. He's okay."

"That was the man," the girl whispered, still staring into the darkness as Cain leaned down beside her. "He made the monsters chase us."

Cain glanced back at the wall. "Well, he helped me find Jack, and he's gone now. You don't have to worry."

Jack stirred in his arms, his eyes opening into slits. "Jilly?" He muttered, and the girl turned to him with relieved tears welling in her eyes.

"Jack! Oh, Jack, I thought you were gone! But this man helped me, and you're okay now!" She leaned down and hugged him, placing kisses on his cheek. "I promise, Jack! I'll never leave you again! I promise! I really, really promise!"

Jack smiled exhaustedly, raising a weak arm and wrapping it around his sister. "I know, Jilly. I know." Cain barely had time to relish in the small reunion before something was tugging at his gut.

0 o 0 o 0

Cain opened his eyes with a gasp, finding Raw and Ambrose staring at him with perplexed gazes.

"Cain?" Ambrose asked timidly, the tin man relieved to find the real Ambrose leaning over him and not the look-alike he had seen in the darkness. "Cain, are you all right?"

"Fine," Cain rasped, holding his head as he sat up. He looked around, finding himself on the floor, and frowned. "What happened?"

"Raw tried to connect our minds," the inventor explained, checking Cain's head for injury and pursing his lips at the small lump he found among the man's blond hair. "I felt . . . something, but then you passed out on the floor, and the connection was broken."

Cain broke free from Ambrose's coddling, rubbing at the bump himself and wincing at the sharp pain it elicited. "How long was I out?"

"A few moments," the inventor shrugged, and Cain blinked at him.

"Are you sure?"

Ambrose's eyebrows knitted together, and he studied his friend closely. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Cain swallowed the dryness in his throat before nodding. "Yea. It just . . . felt like longer."

The inventor cocked his head, much like the look-alike in Cain's dream had. "Did you see something, Cain?" The tin man looked into Ambrose's eyes, seeing a flash of dark, glassy orbs and shuddering at the thought of the other man's counterpart.

Cain thought for a moment, a smile slowly creeping across his lips as Jilly and Jack came to mind. The two siblings, finally together. Maybe there was a reason he and Ambrose had been drawn to one another. Maybe . . . Maybe that was the only reason. Cain looked back into Ambrose's eyes, only able to picture the distorted version he had encountered in the darkness of the inventor's mind. There was definitely more to Ambrose than he ever wanted to know.

"I'm fine," he lied, ignoring the inventor's skeptical look. "I think we should—"

The door, suddenly, opened, and Jeremiah stumbled in, a look of disbelief on his face. "There's, um," he stammered. "There's people." He gestured wildly behind him. "There's people from the palace."

"From the palace?" Ambrose echoed, standing and helping Cain to his feet.

"They have horses!" Jeremiah exclaimed, as if that was the highlight of the situation. "I-I mean, they're here to take you back to the palace! They have horses . . . to take you back to the palace." He sobered his tone some and cleared his throat, giving a nervous chuckle. "Man, this sure is the most excitement we've had in a while."

0 o 0 o 0

The elation of their arrival back to the palace was exhausting, short-lived, and met with a light drizzle of rain that soon turned into a downpour. Ambrose was whisked away to the infirmary under the insistence of the queen, the inventor protesting all the way but ultimately submitting to her highness's decision.

Cain wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a long nap in a comfortable bed. He, instead, found himself wandering the palace grounds, finding a rather quiet spot in the courtyard. He sat undisturbed for quite a few hours before the silence was broken.

"I had a dream about you last night."

Rain dripped from the brim of Cain's hat as he looked up to find DG staring at him from across the courtyard. She stood beneath a wide, green umbrella, her gray, knee-length dress swaying in the gentle wind. Droplets of water nicked the smooth fabric as the hem breached the safety of the shelter, quickly retreating when the wind faltered and venturing out again to repeat the process.

The tin man was soaked from head to toe, the freezing rain assaulting him mercilessly as he sat motionless on a stone bench beside a particularly bright patch of red carnations. It was amazing how the enchanted garden stayed in bloom even through winter.

"About me?" Cain called, shifting and wincing as stiff muscles stretched against the cold. It was barely a few degrees from snowy weather, but the harsh sleet persisted, stubborn enough to stave off the much-needed relief.

The princess walked the few steps worth of distance between them, making to sit beside him. Cain quickly removed his coat and placed it on the bench at his side, the warm, dry inside facing upward. DG smiled, indulging the man and taking the offered seat. She held the umbrella stick between them so that they were both shielded from the rain, the sound of water droplets pelting against the roof of the small shelter muffled by the fabric. The tin man removed his hat, smiling at her with the gentle admiration that a father would his daughter.

"About you," DG confirmed, "and Ambrose."

Cain immediately averted his gaze, turning his hat in his hands and fingering its rough fabric restlessly. "Oh."

DG's lips thinned into a grim line, her eyebrows drawing together and her normally smooth, pale skin sporting ugly lines of frustration and confusion. "You haven't talked about what happened between you two."

Cain's gaze snapped back to hers. "Has he?"

She didn't respond right away, gauging the man's reaction before finally shaking her head. "No. He won't talk either."

The tin man's shoulders slumped, and he let loose a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. He swallowed loudly, unable to turn from the young girl's inquiring eyes. They sparkled with concern, as if she was on the brink of crying. The dark circles under her eyes spoke volumes of her worry, the sleepless nights she must have spent waiting for any word of her friends.

Cain ground his teeth, asking, "What happened in your dream?"

DG took a moment to recall the specific details. "You left, ran away into the dark. Ambrose was heart-broken. He tried to go after you, but he couldn't remember which way you'd gone. It was like he was Glitch again. He'd remember for a moment, then he would forget again and wander around, hoping he would remember again."

The tin man frowned. "Sounds more like a nightmare."

DG nodded. "Lost and alone in the dark, unable to find the one person you trust more than anyone in the O.Z. . . . the one person you love."

Cain sighed. "That isn't your dream, is it?"

"It's someone's," she shrugged, her feet swinging back and forth and her shoes being splattered by fat raindrops. "He's feeling better, trying to wheedle his way back into his lab."

Cain smirked with a huff. "Sounds about right."

"He's been asking about you."

This statement stole the smirk from the tin man's lips, and he shook his head. "I have to go." He ducked out from beneath DG's umbrella and replaced his hat. The young princess stood as well, returning the man's coat. "Before we . . . disappeared, there was news of Zero's men in the overpass near your mother's ice palace."

"They could be long-gone by now," DG pointed out with disappointment, biting her bottom lip.

Cain pulled the coat over his broad shoulders and adjusted it, shaking the water from it in vain. "I can't take that chance." He leaned down, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek and tipping his hat.

"You'll stay for the ball, at least, right?" DG asked hopefully, but Cain only shook his head.

"I'm afraid I have to leave tonight," he explained, placing a hand on her arm and squeezing it before beginning to walk away. "Have fun at the ball."

DG watched him disappear back into the palace, tears pricking her eyes as she whispered, "But he needs you, Cain. He's lost."

0 o 0 o 0

Cain was packed, the surprisingly light bag slung over his shoulder as he stalked through the palace corridors attempting to make a hasty retreat. He hated to leave without saying goodbye, but he would see everyone again eventually. Perhaps for the holiday that DG had been telling them about – Christmas? Yes, Cain would see them at Christmas, and things would be better, forgiven . . . forgotten.

A rather bright light and the sound of metal crashing against metal brought Cain back from his thoughts, and his head snapped toward the offending sound. Ambrose's lab door was ajar, and a white light was emanating from within. More crashing, and Cain was through the door instantly, strange gadgets and pieces of machinery crunching beneath his boots.

The domed structure that had once been the focal point of the large room lay in dismantled heaps on the raised platform. Sparks flew from several directions, and as the tin man's eyes frantically scanned the lab, he found Ambrose nowhere in sight.

"Ambrose?" He called, dropping his bag at his feet and starting forward. His heart was pounding in his chest, a painful reminder of the emotions that the strange inventor had awoken within him.

Ambrose, suddenly, stood from behind a rather large pile of twisted steel, and Cain's anxiety quelled some, his lungs expelling the air they had held captive in a brief moment of panic. The inventor's eyebrows rose high on his forehead as he spotted the intruder.

"Mister Cain," he said politely, to the great annoyance and disappointment of the tin man. "I was told you were leaving."

Cain cleared his throat, avoiding the other man's eyes. "Duty calls," he replied, knowing the explanation was no more than an excuse to run away. His gaze shifted to the disassembled machine curiously, frowning as he returned to the inventor.

"You destroyed it," he said dumbly, his cheeks tainted with a hint of red as he realized the bluntness of the statement.

Ambrose shrugged half-heartedly, offering the man a slight smile as he descended the stairs and made his way toward his cluttered desk. "You didn't like it," he pointed out quietly, wiping his hands on an oily rag. His back faced towards the tin man, his shoulders hunched and his head lowered.

Cain took a step forward. "But you did."

Ambrose turned on his heels, his face emitting no emotions, and Cain was immediately reminded why Ambrose and Glitch would never be the same person. Glitch couldn't hide his emotions if he tried. His face was a window in and of itself into his thoughts and feelings. Everything came naturally, like breathing, and taking away what made the headcase their headcase would be like taking the very breath from his body. For Ambrose, emotions took effort. Every smile was calculated, forced, and never entirely without some sort of ulterior motive. Cain thought he had seen the inventor's true nature over the past week, the man that Ambrose had been before the witch's reign.

"Why should it matter if I liked it or not?" The adviser asked in a snappish tone. He regretted it immediately, but Cain did not seem at all fazed by the clipped words.

"Because I know you." The tin man replied. Ambrose wanted to scoff, tell the other man he was absurd. But the lie dissolved on his tongue, unable to breach his trembling lips.

Cain leaned down, grasping the handle of his bag and hauling it back up over his shoulder. With a look of disappointment in his eyes, he said, "I've seen the way you look at your inventions." Ambrose sucked in a breath and held it behind clenched teeth. "Even when you couldn't remember whether you'd made them or not, there was always that look—that sense of pride, like deep down you knew those inventions were made by your very hands."

The inventor didn't have a response. What could he say to something like that? What could he say to a man that knew absolutely everything about him and had decided to run away instead of confront him about it? They stared at each other for another brief moment before the tin man turned to leave.

Ambrose didn't stop him.

0 o 0 o 0

DG stood in a very secluded corner, watching dancers twirl around the grand ballroom floor. Her dress was blue, strapless, and fell just below her ankles. Her hair was swept up with beautiful diamond-laced pins and barrettes, two dark, curled strands framing her face. She wore flat shoes, to the morbid disapproval of her mother—but the princess couldn't and wouldn't dance in heels, and that was that. Azkadellia had helped her with her makeup, just enough to make her shimmer and glow but not so much as to make the younger sister uncomfortable.

DG felt beautiful . . . and utterly lonely. It was junior high all over again. She'd stood in a corner then, too, hiding herself from the boys that didn't want to ask her to dance anyway. Only this time, there were boys—no, men—looking for her. Everyone wanted to dance with the newest addition to the royal family, and so far, the only people DG had allowed near her were her father, Jeb, and Raw. Cain and Ambrose were still missing.

She sighed as they both came to mind. Cain, of course, would not be there, but there was absolutely no reason for Ambrose to miss out on the sheer boredom of the evening.

0 o 0 o 0

Cain's horse was restless. "Whoa, girl," he murmured, stroking the length of her neck and patting her shoulder. "I know. I don't want to leave either. But it's for the best."

The horse's large, dark eyes stared at him as if pleading. The tin man frowned and shook his head, turning and grabbing another saddle bag. "Don't look at me like that. You know I can't stay, not with—" The horse nuzzled his back between his shoulder blades, nearly knocking him over. He caught himself on the half wall separating the stalls, sighing and turning around with an admonishing look.

"That's not going to keep me from leaving." The horse snorted, bobbing her head up and down and stamping her front hooves impatiently. Cain sighed, lowering his head and swallowing. "He won't forgive me, not this time. I . . . I saw some things . . . Some bad things. I don't know if I can ever forget them."

The horse whinnied, and Cain looked up, finding her staring at him again. There was something about that look that always made the tin man give in. He couldn't quite place it, but somehow she always won these kinds of arguments. He nodded, setting the bag down and starting to unhook her saddle. "One of these days, Abigail, one of these days . . ." The horse snorted as if in disbelief.

0 o 0 o 0

Azkadellia watched with hidden amusement as a tall, brown-haired man led DG onto the dance floor—well, it was more her sister gently guiding the anxious-looking young man, but the younger princess was smiling, and that was all that really mattered. The older princess, herself, had not had many suitors this evening, but the viewer, Raw, Jeb, and her father had kept her more than busy on the dance floor.

"Who is that man with DG?" Azkadellia wondered aloud, leaning toward her father as they watched the two clumsily make their way around the ballroom.

Ahamo studied the young man for a moment before a small smile graced his lips. "Ah. That's one of Mister Cain's new recruits. I think his name is Lynch. Jeremiah Lynch. Cain said something about meeting him on the way back to the palace."

"He's a very handsome boy," the queen added with an approving smile. "He seems very keen on our little DG."

"Mother, she's hardly 'little' anymore," Azkadellia scolded on her sister's behalf.

"She's right," Ahamo agreed, patting his daughter's hand. "But you girls will always be 'little' to us, no matter what."

Azkadellia smiled, feeling almost at home beside her parents and watching her sister and the young man bump into yet another couple and bashfully apologize before giggling and trying to fall into step once again.

0 o 0 o 0

Ambrose's stiff boots clacked harshly against the linoleum floor as he sprinted down the palace corridor. The boots whined and groaned irritatingly with every brief step. His heart was racing, and his lungs were burning from the exertion. Dark tufts of wild, greasy hair bounced as he pushed on, ignoring the aching pain in his side. He must have been quite a sight to passing servants; stained work shirt half-untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, brown vest flapping against his chest unbuttoned, pants tattered and stringy at the bottom hems from scraping along the ground.

The part of him that still reeked of Glitch urged him on: "Faster! Catch him! Don't let him leave! Not without 'goodbye'!"

He nearly fell as the tin man, suddenly, appeared ahead of him, head tilted downward as if he was in deep contemplation. Cain looked up as the inventor began to slow down, his eyebrows raising when Ambrose came to a complete stop mere feet from him. The dark-haired man bent over slightly, his hands gripping his thighs in a desperate attempt to catch his breath and remain standing.

As Ambrose straightened, the room tilted, and he stumbled, Cain having to catch him. "Ambrose? Are you all right?" The tin man's voice conveyed only concern, and the adviser was glad to hear something other than anger there.

"I'm . . . I'm," Ambrose panted, having to take several breaths before trying to speak again. "I'm fine . . . I just . . . I wanted . . ." He coughed and grimaced, and Cain led him towards a nearby balcony, sitting him on the bench outside.

The air was chilly, their breath curling upwards in white misty clouds. The tin man lowered himself to his knees in front of the bench, able to study the other more closely. He placed a hand on the inventor's shoulder, allowing him to gain control of his breathing. Ambrose's chest shuddered with every breath, and he had to close his eyes against the burning pain that the cold air was certainly not helping to assuage.

When the inventor opened his eyes again, Cain was still staring at him anxiously, an unanswered question in his ice-like blues. Ambrose took a steadying breath and held it for a moment before speaking.

"You're leaving because of me, not because of business," he stated matter-of-factly, causing Cain to avert his gaze. The tin man looked almost guilty as he collected his thoughts for a moment, returning his attention back to the adviser.

He shook his head, his eyebrows knitting. "No," he replied firmly, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. "Not anymore."

Ambrose searched the tin man's eyes. "You're staying?" Cain nodded, and the inventor's lips curved into a contemplative frown. "Why?"

Cain expelled a pent-up breath and removed his hat, fingering the brim absently as he did when he was nervous or dreading something to come. "I realized something," he said carefully, thinking each word through before saying it.

When the tin man didn't continue, Ambrose tilted his head. "What?"

Cain met his eyes, then, nothing but a fiery sincerity echoing behind those ice-blues. "We're not finished." Ambrose pursed his lips, trying to understand. "You and me," Cain continued, "we started something. I . . . don't know exactly what," He stopped for a brief moment, searching his mind for the right words that expressed what he was feeling—a hard thing to do for a tin man with no heart, "but I know it's . . . it's something that I don't want to end. Not just yet."

The inventor's wide eyes studied the man in front of him—the man he was possibly head-over-heels in love with and who possibly felt the same way.

A white flake landed on Cain's broad shoulder, and the adviser watched it melt into the fabric of the man's coat before looking up. Several more flakes wafted down from the sky, weaving and swirling their way to the ground. Many landed in the inventor's hair, standing stark against the dark curls and the grease.

"So what do we do?" Ambrose asked as he lowered his gaze back to the tin man, Glitch's innocence lacing his tone as he studied the other apprehensively.

Cain sighed, replacing his hat and looking into the palace towards the ballroom doors. Laughter and an uplifting beat wafted out to the two lone figures, and the tin man smiled, standing and offering the a hand. "Wanna dance?"

A corner of Ambrose's mouth twitched upward as he slipped his fingers into Cain's without hesitation. "I'll lead," he whispered as he was pulled up tight against the tin man's body. "You follow."

AN: The end. The very, very end. Oi! You have no idea how good it is to get this out of my system. It's been tormenting me for months. *sinks into big, fuzzy green chair and takes nap* Finally!!

Again, thanks to everyone who has reviewed the previous chapters!! I hope this is a suitable ending. If it seems a bit rushed, I apologize. Really, I wanted to make it good, but I also just wanted it finished, so I forced my friend to make me sit down and write and not go off topic.

I really do sort of want to go on and write more about Jack and Jill, but that is for another time and another place. And possibly another fandom. :)

Later, Gators! I will catch you all on flip side. :D