A/N: Well here it is finally. The last chapter for this story I started in April, 2013. A huge apology to all of those I have kept waiting. A huge thank you to all who stuck it out with me. So many follows and favourites:) You make my day!

Big thanks to mattsloved1 and johnsarmylady for checking my mistakes & typos & encouraging me:D

As usual I do not own. It would be fun if I did:D

11. For All That I Hold In My Heart

An hour earlier, when Molly and John left in search of Sherlock, it was the first time she had been out since having been taken away from Irene Adler.

There was a little garden enclosed at the back of the building but she had discovered a bit of agoraphobia had crept into her mindset after the attempted rape. Going out with John, holding him up so he didn't stumble distracted her enough to not worry about being exposed to the air and the sky. Besides she had survived far worse and nothing was going to stop her from helping, even if she didn't entirely agree with the plan to rescue Sherlock.

Looking at the doctor out in the fresh air, she could see how drawn and disoriented he was. She still harboured doubts about what the Shadows may have done to him and she watched him shake his head as if to clear mudded thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was still little more than a whisper.

"I can feel him, Sherlock, pressing against my mind, but it's not clear. I think he's unconscious, but I can still feel him needing me. Maybe I'm too far away." He huffed slightly, lip pursed, his eyes crinkled with worry and discouragement. "I don't know." A tired but wry smile lit his face, making him appear momentarily younger. "I'm not used to all of this internal conversation with another being thing."

Molly squeezed the arm that was holding onto hers. A long black car pulled up in front of the building. A human driver stepped out and opened the door. He glanced up and down, a look of caution upon his face. They could see he was concerned because two humans were leaving the ministry about to go off on their own. A voice interceded from behind.

"Thank you, Philip. They are cleared to travel."

All three turned in surprise to see Mycroft standing at the top of the stairs. He trotted down to join them. The familiar wintery smile graced his mouth. "I thought you might have problems. I will be tracking you both and following behind. I do not wish to follow too closely as I am sure Moriarty will be expecting this. You may be exposed for a few moments, but I assure you, we are as interested in putting a stop to his madness as you are."

Molly opened her mouth to take issue with his presumption, but John stilled her with a squeeze of his own.

"Thanks. We'll set out and hopefully find what we are looking for."

"Here, you may need these." He handed a pocketknife and a gun to John. A gun was also thrust in her direction. "You have been given dispensations to carry these." He paused and looked significantly at the two of them. "I realise from your life previous to your stay with us, that you are both familiar with firearms. Use them well."

John smiled grimly, ducked his head and climbed into the car. Molly glared once in Mycroft's direction and followed. She slid in close to her friend. He heaved an exhausted sigh, closed his eyes and looked like he was asleep, but he was concentrating. She did not at all understand the attraction and connection to the Holmes creature but she let him do his mind trick thing. Her life was just as much at stake as his.

John opened his eyes momentarily and simply pointed vaguely and said to the driver. "That way." Every few minutes the doctor would correct the direction and after half an hour or so he became still, his eyes squeezed shut, his brow sweating with effort. He opened his eyes briefly. "I can hear him. He's becoming clearer. I think he's regaining consciousness."

There was long pause before he spoke again. "He's wondering where he is. It's humid and hot."

A few moments later a shutter ran down the man's back. "He's anxious but trying not to show it." Molly squeezed his hand. "He can't hear me yet. I'm just getting emotions and impressions. His head hurts and it's muddling his thoughts." He wiped his brow and looked even more exhausted. Suddenly he shouted at the driver. "I know where he is, the Royal Botanic Gardens. I got a flash of an image. He's in one of the green houses."

The car lurched forward as the driver speed up. They weren't far from there. They slowed as it entered the Gardens. The driver wound his way along the paths that when humans ran the world had been used by the Kew Explorer. Molly recognized the pathway having being here several times before the invasion. She wondered if the Shadows sat for tours of the Gardens or did they even care. A stray thought to tide her over, through the tension.

The weary man sat up and was more alert than he'd been for a while. His head swivelled from left to right as if searching for Sherlock. "Stop!" he yelled and before the car had come to a halt, he had the door open and was trying to scramble out. The younger woman followed close behind. She shouted back at the driver. "Let your boss know." Even though they were being tracked by the implants under their skin, it didn't hurt to let Mycroft know specifically where they were.

Keeping a close eye on the doctor, she was amazed at what she was seeing. There were still so many misgivings regarding this bonding nonsense but as she watched her friend, it was a bit of a revelation. She followed closely behind as he stumbled up to the door which lead to a large greenhouse. She steadied him as he struggled with the handle. They made their way in, the heat from the room oppressive and humid, their footsteps hushed by the thick foliage.

Suddenly, John's head was up and she could feel his body quiver underneath the arm around his waist.

They came through the plants to the back of the greenhouse to the sight of Sherlock, looking the worse for wear and tied to a chair. His eyes were immediately fixed upon John's and Molly could almost see and feel the connection between the two. She let him go and watched with wonder. When the two men touched, colour returned to both their faces and they looked healthier. The shorter man reached out and touched Sherlock's face, as he laid his forehead against the other's. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes she was not sure she'd believe it.

John straightened and turned to her. "Molly, see if you can keep an ear out and I'll get Sherlock untied."

She nodded and quickly left, back through the plants to watch the door.

Going back past the plants, sound was muffled and she could no longer hear the two men. She felt a certain level of confusion course through her, at war with her instincts. Shadows were bad and she needed to protect John from them. Sherlock and John's obvious affection and restoration of health negated that. She gave herself a shake. "Sort it out later, Hooper." She quickly exited the greenhouse and made her way to where Philip was waiting in the car.

She leaned in the driver's side and heard him say, "Mr. Holmes is on his way with more men. He estimates their time to be 10 minutes," the driver acknowledged. She stood beside the car, indecisive as to what she should do. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

A shriek echoed through the night and a glow began to gather at the end of the greenhouse where she had left John and Sherlock. Flinging open the door, she raced back, drawing the gun Mycroft had handed to her. She felt a flutter of fear rise up inside, as she thought she should not have left the doctor. No matter how in love he was with Holmes, it wasn't safe.

The sound of someone crashing through the vegetation towards her caused her to slow her movements. She walked past a group of exotic plants and nearly ran smack into Irene Adler.

The other woman looked flustered and fearful, although when she spotted Molly she pulled herself together long enough to attempt to grab at the human's arm.

"Oh my dear, how fortunate for you. Come with me. We need to get out of here."

Molly hissed at Irene, "If you think I would go anywhere with you, you're as insane as I thought."

Despite the look of near panic in the female Shadow's eyes, the full and rich curve of her mouth rose into a satisfied smirk. "I can save you. You have no idea what James has in mind for your kind. I can protect you." She risked a glanced behind her to where the glow was slowly dimming, "Although it looks like he may have lost. No matter. If he lost and Holmes won it won't be safe for us." She tried again to grab her arm. "Come with me. I can make you very happy."

A flash of pure anger coursed through Molly's veins. This Shadow had made her more afraid than any other she had come across. She felt deep in her heart that if she didn't take care of this right here and now, she'd always be looking over her shoulder for Irene Adler.

She raised the gun and pointed it at Irene. "If you touch me, I will shoot you."

Irene quirked an eyebrow. "Oh come now, you haven't got the nerve."

"At one time maybe not. But people change."

"You? I hardly think so. You were a mouse. You're still a mouse. You will always be a mouse. You need someone like me to protect you. Someone to take care of you." She reached forward to stroke Molly's cheek, but at the last second she lunged toward the gun.

The two women wrestled for control of the firearm. There was a bang and a look of surprise on Irene's face as she slid to the floor. "You…" It changed to bewilderment and then she was still, her eyes remained wide and fixed.

Molly jerked herself back. In a numb stupor she stood staring at the still body on the ground. With a shake she brought herself back and ran toward where she had left the two men, back to the dying glow. She pushed through the thick fronds of a palm-like bush and startled to a stop. An unconscious Sherlock lay upon the ground and a pale and ill looking John held him tight; the curly brown head was in his lap. He barely acknowledged her presence.

"I can't feel him. He's gone."

She knelt down beside the two men. She checked Sherlock's pulse, a quiet look upon her face. "He's alive, but his pulse is very faint. We need to get him help."

There was the noise of many feet and a team of humans came through lead by the DI Sherlock was friends with. The DI, Lestrade, barked orders at his team to search the greenhouse. He looked at Molly and then down at the two men upon the floor. He left to direct his men.

Mycroft arrived and stopped beside the prone figure of his brother. A look of concern sat upon his face as he took in the scene.

He turned to John. "Explain."

In faltering words, the doctor told Mycroft what had conspired between Moriarty and Sherlock, of Sherlock glowing brightly and of Moriarty disappearing in the light of the Shadow. Only two words were spoken in response. "I see."

A team of Shadow medics arrived and pulled Sherlock from John's arms. He was too weak to protest and he slumped on the ground. The medics gently lifted the unconscious form onto a stretcher. The taller being spoke quietly into the ear of one of the medics, which caused a look of confusion to cross its face. "But sir that just isn't done." A stern look settled itself upon Mycroft face. "That is an order. This man is my brother's bonded. You will take him with you." The other Shadow nodded and signalled for another stretcher to be brought forth. With the same care they placed John on the second one.

"What will they do to him?" The diminutive woman was reaching the end of her limits and didn't want to see her friend taken away, yet again.

"Do? Why they will care for him, care for them both. There is nothing my brother needs now except for rest and to be near his bonded. And the same goes for the good doctor. Sherlock exerted a great deal of energy, which he really couldn't spare at this time. But do not worry, Miss Hooper. They will both be looked after." He looked thoughtful. "Although it has been a long time since there has been a human bonded to one of the People. Leave it to Sherlock to make things complicated."

He crossed over to where she was standing. As he came closer she began to shake as the implications of what she had done to Irene Adler crashed upon her. He quietly reached over and removed the gun from her grasp. She hadn't even realised she was still holding it.

"On our way in we came across the unfortunate Miss Adler. I see we do not have to worry about her. I presume she was involved with Moriarty? Ah no fear, my dear Miss Hooper. She would have received a death sentence from her own people because of her involvement with Moriarty if you had not killed her. I may have to hush up the fact that a human killed her, but all in all I think you did everyone favour." He sniffed.

She felt a little appalled at his seemingly cold response but she also didn't really care. She'd have done it again and she knew that even if she hadn't accidently killed Adler she would have pulled the trigger readily.

Lestrade returned to Holmes' side. There was a whispered conversation between the two and then he nodded sharply. Kind eyes swept in her direction. "Come on. I think you could use a cuppa and perhaps something to eat." She stared at him blankly. Mycroft looked at her. "You are free to go with him, Miss Hooper. I will speak with you both later."

Molly did not know what to make of all the kindness being shown to her. She had spent the duration of the Invasion believing the Shadows were nothing more than monsters. She was thoroughly confused and extremely tired, but she let Lestrade take her hand and lead her out of the greenhouse.

oOo

On a bright day, six months later, a short, compact man stepped out of a long black car. He stretched his neck. It had been a long drive and he might have fallen asleep on the way home. He thanked the driver, who closed the door behind him. The driver stayed in the car, beside the kerb waiting for the man to be finished with his visit. He pulled out a book and began to read, one eye open in case his passenger came out early. He had been told it would be awhile, but one never knew.

The man walked briskly to the front door of the building, a set of flats contained inside. He rang the buzzer of one in particular and waited, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He frowned at the bright sun; not in displeasure but thinking about how much longer he would feel its rays against his skin. He was anxious to be finished this visit and get back to the one he loved above all others. They had been separated by less than eighteen hours but he was itching to see him again, feel his skin, breath in his scent. He grinned to himself. It was worse than being a randy teenager.

John pressed the buzzer again, still thinking about Sherlock, even though he knew he would hear his musings. In fact there was a low rumble of pleasure at the back of his head that could be dangerously distracting if he thought about it too long. Their bond was tighter than ever and in the last six months they had been able to spend longer and longer periods apart. Not that either wanted too, but with the re-ordering of the world and both of them being heavily involved in it, it had been necessary. They were coming back from a mission to visit the rebel camps. They had been met with much suspicion and a lot of risk and it had been close, but they felt that at least the seeds were planted for further communication. So much misunderstanding and hurt had to be repaired. He wasn't sure if it would ever be stable on Earth any more. Look how human kind treated one another. Throw in an alien life form and the odds were not good, especially an alien life form who had captured and imprisoned and outright killed many humans.

He sighed internally as he thought about everything they had left to do. He and Sherlock were almost finished on their end and then, well then things would be changing for them, too. A wave of excitement rushed through him as he thought about what he had planned.

First he needed to see an old friend, before he met up with Sherlock and give her some sad news. He was here to tell Molly goodbye.

Finally his ringing was answered by a breathy "Hello? John, is that you? Sorry I was napping. Come in!" And he could hear the sound of the front door being unlocked. He scooted hurriedly into the building before the lock reengaged. Molly was now living with Greg Lestrade. She had moved in with him shortly after the turn of events at the Greenhouse. Her friend wasn't the least surprised. He felt it was a good match.

Molly, being one of the descendants of human and The People, was a carrier of the genes that were used to create the antidote for the virus, as John was. She had been involved in the last few months with the production and distribution of the antidote. She had been working with Sherlock when he wasn't with his bonded trying to convince the humans to meet for negotiations. The former rebel, turned Attendant, turned bonded was amazed at how little sleep his partner needed. He seemed to carry out more tasks than anyone he knew. It was wearing just to think about it.

He walked up the stairs to the first floor flat and knocked. Molly opened the door, a sunny smile on her face. She threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. She wasn't showing yet so he wouldn't have known she was pregnant if she hadn't have told him in her last email.

"You are looking good. Feeling all right? No morning sickness?"

She laughed. "You aren't here as my doctor. I'm fine. Come in, come in. You look fantastic. Being with Sherlock seems to agree with you." Her face, more at ease than it had been in such a long time, crinkled up into a smile. "Never thought I'd say those words."

John blushed a bit, out of reflex. "Yeah well, I think we are good for each other."

Sat down in the seat offered to him, she left to make tea. He looked around the cheery flat and could see were the two personalities were merging to create a domestic haven. It was nice to see. He remembered in the rebel camps, the former pathologist, vowing never to have children as long as the Shadows were here. Shadowed no longer, she was becoming more at ease dealing with the People.

Molly returned with a tray and brushed off his offers to help. They sat and chatted for a bit about Greg and how things were working out. "He's busy trying to keep the rioting down as the humans are given more freedoms. It's mostly good. The police have been reinstated. Lots of curfews and regulations trying to ease things in, but you would know that."

"Yes," he said. "I'm rather in the thick of things."

He set his cup down and as he was about to speak and tell her his news, she beat him to it. "So why are you here? Not just for a visit. You have something you want to tell me."

"You were always good at getting to the heart of the matter," he chuckled. He paused and then went straight into his reason for coming. "I'm leaving. I've come to say goodbye."

"Oh? But you just got back? Where are you off to now? I was wondering if they'd send you overseas. I know they are having more difficulties there."

He shook his head. "No. Not there. I'm leaving leaving. Sherlock and I,…well…we are going home. To his world."

Silence descended as she took in what he was saying.

She put down her cup and a look of sorrow crossed her face. "Oh John. What? Really? You're leaving? But why? Aren't you needed here?"

He scrubbed at the back of his neck. "Well yes, I am but Sherlock's needed at home too. Or at least that's what he tells me. Do you remember when I first told you about the virus? When the People were infected, it infected their world too. Changed things there, ruined the environment. He's going home to see if he can help to change that, reverse the damage done there. He wants me to come with, well because I have to and because being one of the descendants he wants to see if it will change things using my DNA or his. He's not sure. Some still live there, waiting for the cure. There are others going back too, some who feel they are now needed to fix things. Some will stay here because they like it here and to set things to rights, but I think eventually all will come home. There's another thing."

He paused and looked out the window. A look of gentle sadness crossed his face. "See, I'm human and he's not. I will only live another, oh forty years or so. He could, in theory, live hundreds of years more, but now that we are bonded, he probably won't. He as much as told me he won't survive my death. He barely survived his first bond and he says ours is stronger. So, I want to spend time with him, as much as possible. And the best place to do that, where we aren't as likely to get killed is back on his world." He looked back at Molly and said, "Hey now. Don't cry." He brushed a tear from her cheek. "I'm terribly happy to be going. He's all I want and think about and I couldn't leave him if I wanted too. And this is an adventure. There are others more capable of doing what I've been doing here. More trusted not to fall under a Shadow's spell." He grinned at her. "Like you for instance. You are liked and respected and don't sleep with the enemy."

"Greg was a collaborator. They aren't too happy with him. But yes, I see what you are saying. Oh, I'm going to miss you. Do you think you'll come back?"

"I don't know. Maybe." An apologetic shrug. Which seemed to say probably not underneath.

She smiled at him and they chatted a bit more. When it was time to leave he hugged her and said, "Let Mycroft know how you get on with the baby. I want to know. He's staying around a bit and he has ways of communicating with us over there. He'll let us know." He smiled at her, hugged her again and left. He didn't look back. She was his last tie to his former life and now it was time to move on.

He walked down the stairs slowly. Upon reaching the parked car, he climbed in, a thoughtful expression on his face. The driver pulled away from the kerb, heading back to the Headquarters of the former Shadow regime, now just the People. It wasn't long before he was near the building when the smile stretched further into a big grin. "Yes, you impatient git! I'm almost there as you well know!"

"Sir?"

"Oh sorry. Just, you know, thinking out loud." He still smiled but he continued the conversation in his head. He occasionally slipped and answered out loud.

The driver pulled up to the kerb and hurried around to let him out. John was already half way out of the car by the time he came around.

He grinned an apology at the other man and hurried up the stairs, anticipation thrumming through his veins.

"John, good to see you. I am expecting a brief from you and Sherlock later today. You are leaving in a few days and I want everything in order before you go."

"Not now Mycroft." He hurried past not even stopping to do more than acknowledge his presence.

"But you saw him less than twenty hours ago!" Mycroft watched the younger man jog up the stars and rolled his eyes. He muttered under his breath, "They spend far too much time wrapped up in each other. How on earth did they get anything accomplished?"

John practically ran down the hall and burst in through the door to their suite. He paused, his eyes adjusting to the flare of light that came from the figure sitting in the chair.

Sherlock sat there, a figure in sunlight, the glow from his body a constant thing now he was restored to full health. It was harder for some to see than others, and he wasn't sure how, but for him it was always there, a sign that all was right. Sherlock had told him this was the way the People were supposed to be all of the time. It would take time for the rest of them to reach this level, but Sherlock was there already because of John.

A smile graced the shorter man's lips as he swung the door shut and locked it. They would not be interrupted, but best not to take chances. He didn't say a word as he crossed the floor. He didn't have to.

John! And greedy hands reached up, grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a long and heated kiss. John sank into it as he attempted to remove his jacket at the same time. Once off, he tossed it to the floor and quickly straddled the man in the chair. He broke off the kiss long enough to smile down and stroke his hand on the pale cheek.

I've missed you.

A warm chuckle filled his head. It hasn't been that long.

I know.

He leaned down again and took his time with this next kiss. He carefully wrapped his lips around Sherlock's upper one and gently sucked on it until he could feel the vibrations from his partner shoot through him. A quite hum of his name filled his head as it was chanted into his mind.

John smiled against the full mouth and he reached with steady fingers as he slowly undid the buttons of the expensive silk shirt. His fingers swept down and touched bare skin; smooth as the fabric of the shirt he was removing from his love.

You are so beautiful, he whispered a caress as soft as the fingers tracing the taut muscles of the chest under them. What did I do to deserve you?

I was wondering the same. Sherlock's fingers wrapped around John's waist and he moaned in to his mouth. He clenched his hands and John gasped. Hey watch it! I'm ticklish!

I know that, too. There was a definite smug undertone to the phrase.

John could feel the hardening bulge of Sherlock's cock against his own as he sat on the other's lap. He moved forward slightly causing his aching member to rub against the other. It didn't give any relief; it did cause him to want his impossibly beautiful and infuriating partner all the more. The friction of the thrusts caused heat to surge through him, as he tormented and teased the other man. He felt wave after wave crash over him, through the touch and feel of contact with his bonded, both physical and mental. Sherlock's moans turned into gasps of pleasure. John increased the speed of his assault and grinned wickedly at the other man. He tilted his head back as Sherlock reached up and swept his tongue up the shorter man's neck, kissed and huffed against his skin.

John, I'm not going to last like this.

Well, we need to do something about that then, won't we? He stood up languidly, leaving the chair and held out his hand. Sherlock entwined his fingers in John's and let himself be led to the bedroom. There, John finished undressing him and sat him on the edge of their bed. Sherlock reached forward, still kissing him and pulled down the zip on his beloved's trousers. His own cock was pressed between the two of them, aching and hard. He pulled John's cock out. John gasped with the contact. Sherlock grinned and with his other hand he pushed off his beloved's trousers completely. No pants again I see. Just for me?

Always.

John kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his trousers. He made short work of his socks and straddled the other man once more, their heated skin finally, fully touching one another. He groaned when the clever fingers wrapped around both of their swollen cocks and began to pump them. John continued to thrust into Sherlock's hand, his gasps turning into whining noises.

Oh God. Oh, fuck! Sherlock! He refused to close his eyes and looked down to watch and in synchronicity, once more attached in bond, both men came at the same time.

White sparks lit the back of John's eyes lids and he shuddered through the orgasm. Oh fuck, Sherlock, why the hell is it so much better with you than anyone else.

Because you are mine and I am yours. He answered as matter-of-factly as he could after that incredible rush of hormones crashing through his body. He snagged John's shirt with his foot and used it to wipe up the mess off of them.

"Thanks for that! I could have worn it again." He was too tired and too caught up in the glow off of Sherlock's skin to really care. A side effect of Sherlock's lustre seemed to be that it washed over him, energizing him, connecting him with his love.

Sherlock just smirked at him. Not today. Today we are going to spend the rest of the day in bed. For tomorrow we will be busy giving our report to Mycroft and with final preparations and the day after that…

You will take me home.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. His eyes, which had remained silver but glowed with a richer light, especially after sex, looked piercingly into his own. "Are you sure, John?"

In response, John leaned in and kissed him again, slow and luxuriantly, little flicks of his tongue on the plump rich mouth.

Yes, love. No matter where we go, you are my home. But to go to your home, to where my ancestors may have visited or lived, that is as close to my heart as it is to yours. To go and heal this rift between your people and their land, that is the most important task of our life.

Sherlock nodded and then with a tumble pulled John into his arms and laid them out on the bed, side by side, his hand constantly stroking up and down the warm flesh of John's sides. Ever since they had bonded, except for the time with Moriarty and the times they had been a part due to the work, he had constantly wanted, needed to touch John. He leaned his forehead against his mate's and breathed in the scent of their recent lovemaking. He then opened his eyes and with his hand traced the tiny crow's feet in the corners of the beloved face. "You're wrong you know."

John chuckled sleepily, drifting in the relaxed heat of what they had just shared.

"Oh I am, am I? What about this time?

What you told Molly.

John opened an eye and glared at Sherlock good-naturedly. Listening in on my conversations again are you?

Sherlock shrugged, unapologetically. I always hear you. You can be loud. He kissed John's nose to take away the sting of any insult.

I think you need to be more specific.

You're wrong about only having forty years.

John opened both eyes and blinked at Sherlock, his face screwed up in concentration "What?"

The long fingers, so deft at what they did to John, so clever in so many ways, wrapped around his face and dug into the short hair at the back of John's neck, massaged the muscles there. A loving kiss was placed against his forehead. "You will have more than forty years, baring accidents and illness. Humans, who live with us, live longer. Maybe a hundred years or more and you were infected and cured of the virus. Who knows what long-term effects that will have on you? Our DNA has mixed. You will live to see at least another hundred years. And then, with good fortune and all being well, then we will die peacefully together." A smirk lit Sherlock's face as if dying with him was the best thing ever.

John sat up on his elbow.

"Seriously?" He was suddenly renewed with energy. Forty years with a human would have been a good measure of time. He had felt guilt at giving his love such a limited span after all of the years he had lived. Forty years for Sherlock was a blink, but a hundred years with this incredible amazing being, who he was just beginning to know and understand, that was a glorious and gracious gift.

He climbed back over Sherlock and kissed him again, long and deep. Strong arms pulled him down and they shifted until John was lying across the length of the other's body. Their kisses were becoming more feverish and urgent and it wasn't long until they were spent once more. John laughed in Sherlock's head. That is if making love to you doesn't kill me first.

Sherlock smiled at him and kissed him one last time before placing an arm around his waist and as he nuzzled his neck, fell asleep. John lay for a while staring at the ceiling, the sun was going down out in the city He wondered what was in store for the two of them, what other adventures they would see. The soft glow of his love's skin filled the room with gentle light, as he finally drifted off to sleep and dreamt of the wonders of a new world that awaited him. Awaited them both.