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hummingbird-of-light · 2 months

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In Our Favor

Part 99

McCoy

“Where’s your other half?” Jim asked.

McCoy shrugged. “Not sure,” he answered as he stabbed another bite of salad. “His class before lunch is something engineering. He probably got caught up on something.”

Lunch continued around them. McCoy kept a stealthy eye on Aporal, who had joined them again, but the Andorian hadn’t done or said anything so far that could be a show of interest in Jaylah. McCoy felt slightly disappointed at that.

When Sulu and Chekov stood up together McCoy was surprised to discover lunch was nearly over and Scotty still hadn’t appeared. Worry went through him and quietly he tapped his ring.

“Wow,” Chekov said and McCoy looked up. “He’s not going to have much time to eat.” McCoy followed Chekov’s gaze and saw Scotty hurrying through the food line.

“I know! I know!” Scotty waved a hand at Jim opening his mouth to comment as Scotty quickly sat down.

“Guess we’ll see you at dinner then,” Jim said to Scotty as most of the friends got up.

“Where have you been Montgomery Scotty?” Jaylah asked.

Scotty shook his head at her. He had stuffed a large bite of sandwich into his mouth. McCoy wanted to know where his husband had been too. Something was worried on Scotty’s face and that made McCoy’s anxiety rise.

“Don’t be late because of me love,” Scotty said after swallowing. McCoy and Cora were the only ones still sitting. “I’ll tell ye later.” He took another bite and finished off the sandwich half he had been holding.

McCoy bit his lip as he looked at Scotty. Something had happened and he wanted to know what. But he knew Scotty was right; he needed to get to class.

“Ok,” he said slowly. He stood and squeezed Scotty’s shoulder with the hand not carrying his empty tray.

“You sure you don’t want company?” Cora asked Scotty.

“I’m fine,” Scotty said, through another bite. “I’ll be done in a minute and on my way to class too.”

“Heading to class?” a voice asked next to McCoy. He startled slightly and looked over to see Eugene.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Just gotta take care of this.”

“Hey Scotty,” Eugene greeted him. Scotty nodded back, his mouth full again.

“Bye guys,” Cora said as she came back to pick up her bag.

“Seeya,” McCoy said. Cora headed the opposite way out of the dining hall.

“So, uhh, who was that?” Eugene asked as he and McCoy walked to class.

“Who was…? Huh?” McCoy asked. His mind was still stuck on Scotty and why he’d been late. Keenser and Jaylah and Aporal had all been on time, what had delayed Scotty? Had another teacher gotten him in trouble?

“The girl sitting with you guys.”

McCoy gave his head a shake to clear his thoughts and looked over at Eugene. A hint of color was climbing his face.

“There’s a bunch of girls that sit with us, which one?”

“The last one,” Eugene said. “The one who was taking care of her tray when I came over.”

“Cora? What about her?”

“Oh. Umm, nothing,” Eugene said. “Nevermind.”

Eugene had definitely colored. McCoy grinned.

“First it was Chris and now it’s Cora?” he teased.

“What? No!” Eugene protested. “Ok,” he said after a moment. “I’ve noticed her around.”

“She is cute,” McCoy said, watching his words make Eugene blush again.

“How are you friends with all these beautiful girls?” Eugene demanded playfully.

McCoy shrugged. “I’m a prince?” He laughed as Eugene rolled his eyes. “Want me to introduce you?”

“Yeah,” Eugene said. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Come join us at dinner. I’ll save you a seat,” McCoy smiled.

Part 100

Scotty

"Lt. Hamilton! Sir! I need to talk to ye! It's important!"

Scotty was glad to find one of the security people investigating in Aporal's case. The man turned around when he heard the familiar voice. He was instantly alerted by the sound of worry in it.

"What's wrong, cadet?"

Scotty looked around. There weren't any other students around but he still didn't want to have this talk in a corridor.

"Can we go somewhere private? I don't want anyone to hear what I have to tell ye."

Hamilton gave him a nod and they quickly walked into a close by room.

"Your name was... Scott-McCoy, right?"

Scotty gave him a nod, his body still trembling from what he had heard.

"A-aye, sir."

"Is this about Mr. Tallister's case?" Hamilton asked, his face showing just how serious the situation was treated.

"Aye. But... it's turning into something bigger!"

Scotty pulled out his comm and with shaking hands opened the record.

"I... I accidentally overheard a talk Francis Kinnear and his friends had and-"

Scotty stopped when he saw a strange look in Hamilton's eyes. The man sighed.

"Francis Kinnear has an alibi for the night when it happened. His uncle told us that he was helping the boy study for a test."

"That's nonsense! The admiral is lying!"

Scotty knew that he shouldn't talk like that about a superior officer *in front of* a superior officer, but he wouldn't let Francis get through with everything.

"Watch your mouth, cadet!"

"But he is!"

Without another word, Scotty played the record he had made.

Hamilton looked at the device in the Scotsman's hand and with every word he heard, his eyes widened.

"Ye see?"

He thought about what Hamilton had said once more.

"Maybe... maybe Admiral Kinnear didn't lie, okay? Maybe Francis was with him. But he's definitely guilty. He is the mastermind. And now he's planning on burning down the labs!"

Hamilton pinched the bridge of his nose. This was all quite a lot to take in.

"Thank you for showing me this. We will look further into it."

Scotty nodded. He really hoped that they would get Francis and the rest of those bastards!

They were sitting in their last class, discussing Aporal's ideas for improvements, when suddenly the door opened and four people came in.

Three of them were security, Scotty recognized Hamilton and Jameson, and one of them was a very angry looking Admiral Kinnear.

"Francis! A word! Right now!"

The called out boy startled in surprise when he heard the upset sounding voice of his uncle and he turned his head to look at the people standing in the door.

His face paled slightly as he got to his feet.

"Of course, sir."

Everyone watched with wide eyes as the small group escorted Francis out of the room and Scotty couldn't keep a smile off his face.

"What is going on, Montgomery Scotty?" Jaylah hissed at her Scottish friend, obviously seeing that he knew more about it.

"Don't worry. Everyone will find out soon enough," Scotty said mysteriously, exchanging a glance with Aporal who looked just as surprised as the other students. Scotty gave him a small nod and a smile spread across the Andorian's face. He knew what this was about... and he couldn't be more grateful.

#star trek #montgomery scott #leonard mccoy #scones #in our favor

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newgenog · 1 year

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REVENGE

Notes: This is part two of chapter three. If you're just stumbling across this, and haven't already done so, please stop and start by reading part one of chapter one.

This #Batwoman AU is based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. Playing with these character parallels has been fun. And writing an intentionally vengeful Ryan Wilder (who is not a cloaked hero) is an interesting challenge, too.

I break my (super long 😅) chapters into parts and post them on Tumblr each Friday. Then, I post their the final part with the complete on A03.

Aright, let's get into it.

CHAPTER THREE - BETRAYAL (Part Two)

Summary: Before he can announce his intent to run for Mayor, Robyn Wilde makes it her mission to destroy the life of the District Attorney that decided to bring criminal charges against her for the events that led to her mother’s death when she was the child known as Ryan Wilder.

THE LOFT, 2PM ON SUNDAY

Ryan felt tugged towards The Hold Up. She knew that was exactly where she shouldn’t be. She came back to Gotham for one reason: to rectify the wrongs done to her mom and her. She was pursuing a vicious but precise attack, and the risk was great for anyone who got caught in the crossfire.

Still, when she arrived outside of her new home, the door to the bar seemed to glow, and she couldn’t decide if it was indicating ‘stay back, radioactive relationships are on the other side,’ or ‘everything is bright and warm here.’ Regardless, she’s combustible and that heat was likely to create the perfect amount of pressure to blow everything up. All walking into that bar would do is cause more damage. So, as she sits at her kitchen table, staring at the stairway that will drop her off in front of the office where her favorite feline is likely curled up napping, and where the family she feels protective of even though she’s who they need protecting from is trying to manage yet another thing, she reminds herself that she has work to do.

She’s spent the last hour reviewing, revising, and finalizing the packet she’ll use to introduce her shared business venture proposal to Kate. She needs to put that to bed so she can focus on her next target - Roman Sionis. She saves the pitch file, and then opens up the folder of footage from the statements recorded at the police station that Luke was able to obtain from Arther Brown’s hidden archives.

All named witnesses were called into the police station after Cora was shot. Because they were minors, parents were able to accompany them in the interrogation room. She selects a video and fast forwards to the statement that ultimately damned her to growing up too fast in youth hell at the detention center.

Catherine Hamilton and Beth Kane sat in a room with two large-mirrored walls, lit with one overhead lamp, and at an oval conference room table. Catherine was clutching her step daughter’s hand in a way that felt more threatening than supportive. She was clearly doing everything in her power to maintain control over this spiraling situation.

Catherine: "Detective, why are we here?" Sionis: "Your daughter was named as a witness at the scene where Cora Lewis was shot to death." Beth: “STEP daughter.” The sharp look Catherine shoots Beth seems worse than lethal. Catherine: “Who would be foolish enough to say such a thing?” Sionis: “Her daughter, Ryan Wilder.” Catherine: “And what’s her word worth? That girl is obviously disturbed, and this is a waste of our time.” Sionis: “Are you suggesting she’s falsifying her story?” Catherine: “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m stating for a fact: my daughter was nowhere near that heinous tragedy.” Sionis: “Ryan Wilder just watched her mother die in front of her. What reason does she have to come up with such an exaggerated lie?” Catherine: “That misguided child just doesn’t want to be held accountable for her mistakes, and it’s a shame her mother’s life was the ultimate price for them. That neighborhood they lived in was so rotten, it must have had a hold on her, and it’s no wonder Cora felt the need to protect herself with a firearm. We took care of Cora - treated her like family. But, honestly, I’m quite horrified to think she was in my home, near my children with that God awful thing.�� The outright offense, shock, and disappointment seeping out of every word and gesture Catherine relays is hard to argue with. She is putting on a very impressive performance, and it is swaying this detective who has had years on the job, talking circles around criminals. Cathrine Hamilton isn’t his usual criminal though…Nothing about this is typical. Sionis: “I don’t know, Catherine. Why would she pluck your names out of thin air?” Catherine: “It's not out of thin air. It’s our building she and her mother were moving into. To think, I tried to help get them somewhere safer by offering them a nice place that they could afford. Her mother even told me how worried she was for her daughter, attending that public school - said that she’d gotten into fights... That girl brings trouble with her everywhere she goes.” Sionis: “I’m not sure I’m following.” Catherine: “Beth, tell Detective Sionis what we discussed on the way here.” Beth rolls her eyes, and receives a squeeze to her hand that jolts her and earns Catherine a death stare of her own. She answers without breaking eye contact with her step mother. Beth: “She came to our school today, saying she wanted to make some new friends, and that she had party favors for anyone who wanted to ditch and follow her to her new apartment.” Sionis: “And your friends went, but not you…?” Catherine: “Of course she didn’t.” Sionis: “Ms. Kane?” She finally faces and answers him, almost verbatim. Beth: “Of course I didn’t.” Sionis: “Why would you pass up on a party? No offense, but it’s not exactly a secret that you’re pretty out and about.” Cathrine: “And that’s exactly why I’ve had her coming home after school to help me coordinate the annual Christmas Charity Drive. She’s learning some responsibility. We’ve received a number of generous donations, and she spent the afternoon with me, organizing everything that needs to be wrapped.” Sionis finally takes a seat in his chair, and drops his shoulders. It’s as if he’s having a conversation with himself. Could the family he spends Christmas time with, giving back to the community every year, really have been involved in a scene that involved drugs and a shooting, in a neighborhood so far from their home and their children’s school? Granted, the kids present during the arrest also attend the same school, but this family is separate from even their peers… Them being targeted isn’t a completely far-fetched idea. He releases a breath, apparently coming to a decision. Sionis: “That is a very lovely event you plan, Mrs. Hamilton. My team really enjoyed themselves last year.” He smiles at her, and they exchange a knowing glance stemming from shared memories. Sure, donations are collected, but that’s not what makes them look forward to attending the event each year.

Catherine: “It was a wonderful night; we were able to help a lot of families together. They depend on us, Roman. So, I’d love it if we could get back to our important work.”

Sionis: “Fair enough. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of them receiving their meals and presents. But, we’ll be in touch if we have any other questions.”

Catherine: “I’d expect nothing less.”

And with that, they were free to go. Nothing Ryan said from that point on could unplant Catherine’s seeds. It was easier for Roman Sionis to believe that a kid he didn’t know, from a lower income neighborhood and attending a public school could convince some rich kids to get into trouble than to wrap his mind around the fact that a wealthy family had a daughter who was the trouble. His allegiance was to his own community, which he was barely a part of himself. At the time, Roman wasn’t a member of the elite based on his earnings or his reputation. However, his jurisdiction and agreeable relationship with The Crows made him valuable. The Kanes knew how to protect their assets.

Whether Ryan’s case made him want to put distance between his decision to press charges against her and the outcome, or get closer to the people in power and position to influence the ending to cases like hers, Roman changed his career trajectory from Chief of Police to District Attorney. He pursued a law degree, and became a prosecutor within the years that Ryan was serving time. There did seem to be more prestige associated with law manipulators than there was for law enforcers. He could even pursue anything from being a Judge to a life in politics from this side of the law.

When Ryan was released from the facility, she was suddenly wealthy beyond measure thanks to her inheritance from Lucius Fox, but she couldn’t really make sense of that. The funds she’d been gifted sat untouched in an account with her name on it. She needed to at least try to find her way back to what she previously understood to be a normal life.

She'd taken a job bussing tables at a bar that was much mustier and darker than the one she lives above now. It was always cloudy with smoke and noisy with belligerence. Even still, there was an odd comfort to the chaos. In juvie, angry children created a similar sound effect, and even while she hated every moment of her time there, the detention center was what she was most familiar with after having lived there for so many years. Her basement apartment provided some of that sensation, as it too was relatively dark and small, but the silence was almost impossible to sit with; the only time she’d been that alone was when she was forcefully isolated after fights…

One night while working at the bar, she was clearing used glasses from a table that was waiting for their next round, and her ears tuned into hushed strategizing among the small group of suited men seated around it. One of their voices she knew too well, because she’d replayed it in her mind so many times, trying to figure out how she’d ended up where she had. She was instantly taken back to that interrogation room - the first dark, windowless room that was like a sneak peek into her future. She was suddenly fourteen again, with no guardian or legal representation to protect her.

She remembers sitting alone with a tall, white man, with slicked back hair, a charismatic voice, and a tone of authority from his years of experience. He'd asked her questions about school, and her neighborhood, seeming empathetic about what it must be like to be a Black kid growing up in a single parent home, and having to spend a lot of time on her own, being trusted to make responsible choices. He imagined it must feel lonely and challenging to not always have a parent around to take you to after school activities, or help you figure out who you should be making friends with.

Ryan had tried to talk about how close she and her mama were, and how they had had community through the church. Her mama wasn’t raising her alone… But the truth was, Cora worked long hours at the Kanes. Ryan did spend a lot of time trying to contribute where she could, to keep their home in order. She and her mama were a team…

Ryan's attention returns to the customers' conversation when Roman Sionis slams his fist against the table, somewhat quietly, trying to make the point that he’s serious about what he’s saying without drawing too much attention to his companions, which she’d later find out were the man who replaced him and ultimately became Captain, and his ADA, Arthur Brown. She begins spraying and wiping down a nearby table to stay within earshot of their discussion.

Sionis: “I will not allow her to go down for this. She’s my daughter. It’s my job to protect her.” Captain: “She’s not a child, Sionis. How did you see this ending?” Arthur: “Look, we need a plan.” Captain: “WE? I’m not a part of this.” Roman looks at the new police captain with intention, like there’s no point in the captain trying to pretend he doesn’t know what part he’s expected to play in this. Arthur: “You’re here, aren’t you?” Captain: “No! Hell no! I’m not losing my job for you two.” Sionis: “After everything we’ve been through…” The captain lets his head fall. Clearly they’d buried secrets before, and it was time to do it again.

Now, Ryan pulls herself out of her memories, and clicks on the video that matters most in these discovered files. She trims a clip that’s incriminating, but that doesn’t show who’s doing the crime. She zooms in, so there will be no mistaking who was harmed in the incident. Then, she picks up her phone.

Luke: “Hey, I’m downstairs.”

Ryan hesitates to respond, and then allows herself one small concession.

Ryan: “How is she?”

Luke: “There are a lot of people here; apparently word got around about Ms. Moore ending up in the hospital, and they came to show their support. Of course, Ms. Moore couldn't stay away from this place. She’s at least seated at a table, but I think Sophie’s too busy managing her, their visitors, and the bar to be much of anything right now.”

Ryan isn’t even going to pretend to be surprised that Luke understood who she meant, and she’s somewhat relieved that her promise to check on the Moores probably won’t be top of mind for them.

Luke: “I’m guessing you’re not on your way down to ask me whatever it is you called about, in-person.”

Ryan: “I’m kind of in the middle of something, but I’ll check on them…”

Ryan doesn’t want to commit to a timeframe, even if it’s only herself she’ll be letting down.

Luke: “Okay then. What do you need?”

Ryan: “I need you to send a video in an untraceable email to Roman’s campaign manager.”

Luke: “Send it to me, and I’ll handle it as soon as I leave here.”

Ryan: “Sent.”

Luke: “Great.”

Ryan ends the call, and sets her phone down on the table. She pushes her laptop to the side, and pulls her mama’s box closer to her. Finally, she digs out the journal and flips to the letter that comes closest to breaking her heart every time she reads it.

Dear Daughter, I want to share a moment of reflection and gratitude I experienced today with you. I believe that people often have more in common than we don't. Regardless to our upbringing, our access, and our exposure, many of us are trying our best to overcome our hardships and make the most out of the time we've been given. Running the Kane's kitchen and making sure their family is well fed might not be seen as glamorous work, but it's an honest living and it allows me to do what I love while being respected and appreciated. It also reminds me not to make too many assumptions about people I'd previously struggled to relate to. Catherine Hamilton has a daughter your age named Mary. As Asian Americans, they often have a hard time finding their place in their own home. Catherine was a single mother until a few years ago. While her wealth thanks to her success in her company means her challenges are not exactly the same as mine, taking care of a child on your own is not easy for any parent. Like me, she also doesn't have other relatives to depend on. So the responsibility of making decisions about how to care for her child has been solely on her. I believe that helps us understand each other. We share knowing glances when she's mothering Mary in one way or another. If you call me at work with a question, and she catches the end of a conversation, she'll smile at me with compassion. She's always supportive when I ask for flexibility so that I can be present when and where you need me. I read the articles about her. They say she's cold, and prioritizes her success above everything else. I've seen a different side of her though, and so you can't always judge a book by its cover. Her daughter is like you in a lot of ways, too. She's not expecting or entitled the way her step sisters can be. She's responsible, independent, and most of all kind. No matter how those Kane girls treat her, and even though she's two years younger, she's always doing what she can to help them. Her mother's love and example has to have something to do with that. Today, I told Catherine that I had saved enough and that I'd like to start a restaurant. I believed her building would be the perfect location for us, and I hoped she wouldn't be too let down about me leaving my role in her kitchen to pursue my dream. To my surprise she suggested we move into the apartment above the unit where my restaurant would be. Without hesitation, she picked up the phone and started making arrangements for me to meet with the individuals I'd need to so I could lease the two places. I'm sharing this because we live in a world where you might look across those train tracks and assume no one on the other side of them will ever understand or embrace you. But you have to give people the chance to see you if you want to be seen. You have to be open to the possibility that there's more to someone than the external things that seem to separate you. And, the more we can each walk over those tracks to get to know our neighbors, the closer we'll all eventually feel to each other. Don't limit your own ability to learn about someone else's experience based on how they seem from a far. There's often more to the story. I'm so excited about this next chapter of our lives together, and appreciative of everything that led to us getting here. Your Mama, Cora

Cora had dreams she was close to reaching, and she never got the chance to see them manifest. She related to people who didn’t truly value or respect her. She had faith and believed in people that didn’t deserve her trust. She gave so much and, in the end, she lost everything.

~~~~~

To be continued...

Reminder Time:

Come back next Friday for part three.

All #Batwoman things I do now are in the name of #SaveBatwoman. Go follow all the social handles and support the cause, please. Have you signed the petition? https://www.change.org/p/savebatwoman

#wmw23 #wildmoore week #wildmoore #batwoman #fanfic #ryan wilder #ryan x sophie #sophie moore #save batwoman #lgbtq

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smolvenger · 1 year

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Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed Chapter 17: Blue Wildflowers (A Fix-It Fanfiction of The Essex Serpent)

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined through the perspective of the saintly, sickly Vicar's Wife, Stella Ransome, giving her a new ending rather than her canon fate. A bildungsroman of Stella was raised to be a proper lady and married a handsome vicar Will Ransome. She did everything to be a perfect wife and to uphold his ministry. However, after receiving a fatal diagnosis, she learns her husband is having an affair. Her heartbreak, grief, and repressed anger are released. She finds hope, happiness, justice...and even revenge and new love.

Pairings: Stella Ransome x Male OC: Harry Cavaradossi, some Stella x Will Ransome but focusing on the angst of him cheating on her.

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//

Ten//Eleven//Twelve//Thirteen// Fourteen//Fifteen//Sixteen

Chapter Summary: The final chapter. Harry explains why he read the letters. Stella makes decisions regarding her past...and her future. There is a visitor by the name of Seaborne. A party brings back a memory absolved from past miseries into a happy present moment. And Stella, now content, finishes her tale.

Chapter Warnings: A super brief spicy scene towards the end, swearing, discussions of penises, bodily functions, marriage, death, children, and illness are discussed. Discussions of a Major Character Death (sorry not sorry Will Ransome girlies). Stella has PTSD, gets to actually mourn the affair, and becomes Eliza Hamilton for a minute. I get to shit talk both Will and Cora, so if you like the pairing of Will/Cora you have been warned. Religion is portrayed, esp towards the end. But LOTS of fluff and comfort in this chapter.

Chapter Word Count: 6K

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A/N: THANK YOU GUYS so much for following through with this series! It was very therapeutic to write. And thank you for following Stella on her journey! So now here is that eventual happy ending I promised! Enjoy! COMMENTS, KUDOS, ASKS, AND DMS ABOUT MY WORK ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, For they shall inherit the earth.”- Matthew 5: 3-5.

“Harry! What are you doing!” I cried, rushing forward.

He jumped up where he was but kept the papers in his hand. I curled my fists- every letter was sprawled across the desk! His pink lips began to mumble out an explanation as I saw the blood rush to his face.

“You’re home early…you wouldn’t be here for another hour and…”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you reading these!? I told you not to!” I cried again, gesturing to the papers.

He leaned forward, gaining resolve.

“Stella, I’m worried about you!” he replied.

I paused. He held onto the letters, keeping them to his chest. I noticed that the old journal I kept during my time in Aldwinter was also laid open on the desk as well. On the page were words I wrote upon hearing about the threat of the snake:

“He sent the serpent into Eden’s beflowered garden, and he sends it now and the penance must be paid…”

Oh, how little I knew then! If only I could have gone back in time and warned that lovestruck church girl of what would come from marrying that curate! Or that housewife so concerned about a snake devouring her children to make sure her vicar husband stayed away from widows!

“You’re worried about me?” I echoed to him.

“Since that night you saw me with a beard, I kept worrying about that look on your face, and I kept hearing you get out of bed to sob at night. I was concerned! I wanted to know more about what happened in Aldwinter and what happened between…between Will and…and…what was her name?”

He went through the papers to check again. Taking in a shaky breath, I walked towards his chair and clutched onto it to steady myself. I hadn’t said her name out loud in a long, long time.

“Cora…her name was Cora Seaborne…that was William’s lover,” I answered softly.

I found that though I spoke her name, I didn’t die on the spot and despite the unpleasant, anxious feelings inside me, I was still very safe. She was just a word spoken and dissolved into air.

Cora was a person, not a monster, I reminded myself. A person as I am a person. We both had blonde hair. We both were mothers. We lived in Aldwinter. We loved William. We both became widows. We both have hopes, dreams, fears, and dreads. We both committed cardinal sins.

Harry continued; his forehead knotted in anguish.

“I wanted to know what happened between Will and Cora to hurt you like this…So I’d know…I’d know…how best to comfort you. How to be the husband Will never was to you…”

I let out a sigh as I picked up one letter from them.

“I used to think and wonder at that time what sin we did to bring forth the Serpent in our town…now I wonder what on earth I did to have this happen to me…” I commented.

“You did nothing wrong, Stella. Cora and William did something wrong…the blame is entirely theirs, not you…” Harry assured.

I looked down at one page. It was a draft of a letter kept praising Cora about how she lit up Will’s soul and left him speechless and filled with longing.

“I’d try to convince myself not to be jealous of her, try to tell myself I wasn’t… All that changed when I saw them at the tree…I will always be second to Cora. Worse than her. Inferior. And that was why Will strayed….” I replied.

A bitter and petty phrase was on the tip of my tongue. The sound of her name- Cora- the first syllable rhymes with the word “whore.” But that was going too far, even for me (a murderess!). I forced my lips tightly shut until the temptation to connect her name to the word faded away.

Harry got up and offered me the chair, which I sat on. He went to the hall and asked the housekeeper to bring some tea and sweets, then returned. A tear dripped down my chin. Harry gave me his handkerchief.

“How many of their letters did you read?” I asked him.

“All, I think. And a little of the journal.”

“What do you think- not as my husband now, but as someone neutral to the case- what do you think? Of them?” I asked.

Harry looked down at one letter and then let out a scoff, looking back at me.

“Honestly, what n’er do wells!” he replied.

“What?!” I gasped.

He picked up two letters, gesticulating with them with both hands.

“Will and Cora- I haven’t read interactions between two people more self-obsessed and obnoxious!” he snarled.

“Really?” I asked softly.

“Yes, really! Must this woman- Cora- drag every person she met into the mess of her life!? She and Will did nothing! Nothing but ruin everyone else’s life!”

“Mine included…” I prodded.

“Yours worst of all!” Harry agreed.

He then picked up another letter.

“Here she is talking of all the research she did around the town- how would her little hobby help anyone? She could have found ways to trap or kill it. She could have tried to find ways one could protect oneself and educate the folk frightened for their lives. And the family of the girl who went missing-What of her parents? Or the other victim’s families- William could have made tithes to help them. He could have comforted and prayed with them. Will and Cora could have done anything productive but walk around outside, bantering about science and faith and swooning over each other!”

“She told me it was love when I asked her about it,” I informed him.

“If she did love him, she would let him be with his wife and let him go!” he ranted.

“And what do you think of her…is Cora better than me…I thought because she was always so much more…more spirited and… if I was only more like her, Will wouldn't have…never have… Is she truly better?” I asked gingerly.

Harry lowered the letters and folded his arms.

“Well, if you were in her place and a woman’s husband declared his love for you, a woman who had tuberculosis and was likely to die…if you knew without a doubt, he was married to this lady- would you say yes to him?” Harry asked.

“Of course not! Never!” I cried.

He shrugged upwards and his thin, pink lips curved to smile at me.

“Yes, there is a difference between you two! You are selfless, and she is selfish. That is what selfish people do. Hurt others without thinking of it. Therefore, you are better than her…do not compare yourself to this Cora Seaborne. my dear. You are my light and my warmth. What is a candle to a star, hm? Or a coral shell by the sea to the Milky way or the constellations?” he said.

He kissed the top of my head.

“When you met her, what else happened?” he asked.

“I threatened that I’d shoot her if I ever saw her again.”

He patted my shoulder in congratulations.

“Good! Remind me later and I’ll lend you one of my old soldier pistols. If you won’t hurt yourself, you have my blessing to fight back and avenge yourself.” He said sincerely.

I nodded my head.

He then leaned against the desk. He checked to make sure the housekeeper was not around and then leaned to me to speak quietly.

“It seems if there was an Essex Serpent, it was Will’s cock…”

“Harry!”

“It’s true! The only Serpent that one needed to fear was the one between his legs! That was the real god Will was a priest of- his own cock! And Cora was the priestess, and you were the lamb at the altar…” he elaborated.

He brought out an arm and slithered it through the air as a snake does in the grass.

“Can you imagine Will’s cock slithering around Essex like a snake? A giant cock hissing? SSSSSSSS!” he teased.

“I don’t know what would horrify me more- a giant snake or a giant penis slithering about!” I replied quietly.

I couldn’t resist a smile and put a hand over my mouth as I began to chuckle. Soon we both were crying and guffawing with aching bellies, howling with laughter at the obscene metaphor.

“But you are no sacrifice here…” Harry said, bending a knee to look me in the eye.

“Then what am I?” I asked.

He clutched both of my hands as he knelt.

“Goddess divine, of course,” he declared.

I put my hand on my chest in reaction and felt a blush creep up my cheeks. He kissed my hands tenderly.

“I wanted to understand all that happened. And now I do…can you forgive me, my love?” he asked.

“I forgive you, Harry…”

“I only hope I…I will be better, a better man and husband for you.”

Looking over at a corner, there was a table where there stood an empty wine bottle. He sighed.

“Who did you even marry? You deserve a knight in shining armor, Stella, not some drunken fool…” he sighed.

“You’re not that! Well, you still drink a bit much, but you are no fool. You are my knight in shining armor, Harry, my dear!”

With a surprise, he pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

“Then give your knight a kiss.”

We kissed once when the housekeeper walked in with tea and slices of cake. They were drunk and devoured, but the letters remained.

“What should we do with these?” Harry asked.

I got up from his lap. I began to gather the letters. One by one, and then into one neat pile. Anger began to burn again in my throat.

“We could give them to the children when they grow up. Let Will’s legacy be that how he humiliated their mother…” I spat, feeling my grip tighten.

“And carry the blame for their father’s actions? And sour any of the good memories and feelings they may feel for him- he was their first father, after all. And what if they discover the truth of how he died…then how sympathetic shall they think of you? Besides, Stella…I don’t think Will Ransome should be a part of our marriage. It’s a joining of two souls, not three.” Harry suggested.

I glanced down and released my breath.

“You’re right…I could…I could send the rest of them to the church back in Aldwinter…ruin his legacy after death!” I said bitterly.

“And have your whole family be blacklisted and frowned upon for one man’s sins? How will your children live when their father’s actions have condemned their whole future? And if they notice the similarities between your possession of those letters and the suicide scrap by Will’s corpse that time ago and connect the pieces…you would be practically tossing yourself into a jail cell, Stella.”

“Oh God, I’m a selfish, petty, person….” I lamented.

“You’re a human, Stella…” he reminded me.

We paused. He placed a hand on my shoulder. When we looked up, he gestured to the little lamp on the desk. On the inside was a lit candle.

“I think you know what to do,” Harry advised.

“I think it’s time…I kept these for when they would be useful. To have others believe me. To see those guilty punished. And then to free myself…” I mused.

Harry half smiled. He pointed to the second page of one letter where Will signed his full name.

“Ah- you were held prisoner by Mr. Ransome and in need of a ransom- and it seemed you ransomed yourself out of being a Ransome!” he teased.

“I’m not a Ransome in name or the word…I’m a Cavaradossi now…”

I let out a little chuckle at the string of puns. Then I filed them all into one pile. But Harry slipped his hand and took the first page.

“Let me have this one.”

“What do you need that for?” I asked.

“I need to wipe when I relieve my piss or shit!” he said.

I let out a laugh.

“I’m ready now…I’m ready to do this…” I said half to Harry and half to myself.

I went into our room to our fireplace, carrying the letters. I got the matches on the mantle and struck one until a little flame emerged from it. I then put the match to one page of Will and Cora’s letters. I watched as it curled up black, their words and banter and love confessions and declarations bleeding into darkness. Before the flame would reach my fingers, I tossed it into the fireplace. One by one I burned each page and placed them into the fireplace.

Yes, I was dying. But William, you are dead. I thought. I still have life in me, fragile as it was. And now you have none, Will. None, none, nothing.

The flames kissed and danced over the pages. It digested their words so full of selfish lust and then made it a black crumple of dust at the bottom of the fire. Again, I saw the small blueness in the center of the flames.

I watched as I destroyed each last page. They burned and then dwindled to nothing but dust.

Now any trace of William Ransome, my Will, the true Essex Serpent, was gone. I walked with lightness and slept like a babe at night. And Harry kept his promise- I had a small but loaded pistol hidden in my purse. Ready to make good my promise to Cora if I were to ever see her again.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ Though I was glad to continue life as normal, the London smog did not agree with me. It made me cough furiously while walking outside for errands. The doctor’s words haunted me.

“Get some clean air.”

One evening, after the children were in their rooms for their post-dinner hobbies, Harry and I sat down by the fire for him to read and me to sew. The dog laid down on the floor to nap, though his dark brown fur almost made him blend into it. After ten minutes, I set aside the needle and thread and looked at him.

“Harold…can we please see a doctor? The fog is getting to me. I can hardly walk for coughing…” I explained.

He set down his book.

“Any blood?”

“Rarely.”

“Then…then who says we have to live in London?” he suggested.

“What…what about your bank? Or your parties!? Or your plays?!” I asked.

He shrugged them off.

“I can throw them here! I can always travel to London if there’s a show I want to see. And I’m head of the bank- I can move headquarters. We could find a place just outside of London…would you like that? The children will understand- your health improved because of the clean mountain air. They’ll much prefer you alive and well.”

“Then by all means…let us move…”

After some searching, we found a lovely place in Kersey, Suffolk. We packed and gathered our things and moved out. A local building chosen as headquarters for the Cavaradossi bank thought the branch in London remained open. It was a comfortable cottage for all of us. A tree grew outside and stretched its branches out like a greeting friend. And there was fresh air- beautiful, bright fresh air. I loved taking a deep breath once I stepped outside. The air was crisp with winter and a light dusting of snow.

On our first day in the new place, once the boxes were set down, our faithful spaniel wagged his tail as he wandered in and out to the backyard to run about- he was far more used to being a country dog. Harry wrapped his arm around me.

“So help me, you will get all the exercise and fresh air in the world, Stella. We will walk daily- you can have a garden in the springtime. We might even try hiking if the path isn’t too steep- all of us as a family! Oh! And the lakes! We must try rowing- you a little bit! You’ll feel like new as if you were never sick again!”

Though it hadn’t and would never leave my body, I could walk about more, even if I was slower or more fragile. I coughed blood even less. I had more appetite. Only on the rare occasions, I felt myself a little dizzy while walking or a brief pain in my chest, I would use a cane. But only rarely. And of course, that first spring, I planted seeds to become a garden.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ It was seven years after my diagnosis on a Sunday when we had a visitor. The housekeeper we had approached Harry and me as we sat on our chairs.

“Excuse me, there’s a Seaborne at the door!” She announced.

I froze where I sat. I reached for Harry’s hand who clutched mine in return. I felt the color drain from my face. I wondered how quickly I could get out the pistol from my purse.

“Is it a Mrs. Seaborne?” I asked.

“No! It’s a gentleman…a very young gentleman, a Mr. Seaborne.” She corrected.

Harry and I stared at each other dumbfounded.

“Let him in,” I said.

I stood up, clutching the shawl on my shoulders.

In walked that same pale face but matured. His body was still thin but far taller. I felt myself relax seeing him, saying that old cliché that has been used before and will be used again:

“My, how you’ve grown!”

Frankie, in a nice black suit and cravat, tipped off his hat.

“Mrs. Ransome, hello! I wrote to Martha and Fanny and heard you now lived here and you…you remarried, is that right?” he asked, though his eyes darted distractedly to look around the living room.

“Yes, Frankie, I am. I’m Stella Cavaradossi now. Here is my husband- Mr. Harold Cavaradossi.”

Harry walked forward and shook hands with the young man.

“Please stay- I think you’re in time for tea!” I suggested.

He sat down at the table in the kitchen with us. His eyes flitted about, but his voice was addressed to me as he poured milk into his tea.

“It’s odd not thinking of you as Mrs. Ransome…” he commented.

“It’s odd for me too…Frankie, what brings you here?” I asked.

“I just…I worried about you. For years. I…I thought…I even wondered if you were dead…” he confessed.

“Well, she is not. Clearly.” Harry cut in.

“I just was worried, I felt…I felt bad for you. I…I didn’t know how to feel about Mama and…I was angry at you for that letter, at first, but I’m not…not angry anymore. Mrs. Ran- Mrs.-Cava….Cava- ra….“

“You can call me Stella…” I advised.

“Are you happy, Stella?” Frankie asked me. His eyes, so much like hers, softened.

I smiled at the young man.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you’re in good health- I felt so bad for you back then. All stuck in that bed, coughing that blood. How’d you get better?” he asked.

“I was sent to a Sanatorium. They didn’t cure me, but they helped me, Frankie. And you? How have you been?”

He paused hesitantly and I froze.

“I…I live in a flat now with roommates. I go to University now and…and…I’m not on speaking terms with mama as much anymore…only on occasion,” he sighed. He sipped his tea meditatively.

“But Stella…I cannot be mad at you at all now. I remember the old days when I was in Aldwinter. Of all those adults there, you didn’t fuss at me for something I couldn’t help…you made bread. You welcomed me to the town. You let me play with your children. You made me dinner and sweets- I can still taste those chocolate biscuits! I always remembered, Stella. I never forgot your kindness.”

I felt a few tears on verge of showing, but I blinked back.

Despite his small oddities, he was wonderful company. Harry enjoyed him even. Before Frankie departed, I got some scraps of paper and wrote down an address and then a recipe.

“Frankie…you may write and visit any time you like. Come visit when James - he’d be thrilled! He’s with his brother seeing Joanna at her college today, else they’d be here!”

I then showed him the recipe.

“This is how you make those chocolate biscuits if you’d like,” I explained.

He put it in his pocket.

“Of course! And thank you for the tea as well!” he wished with a smile.

As he put his hat on, tipped it, and left, I crossed my arms. I was tearing up, but I was also smiling watching him go to his taxi. I was glad I didn’t kill that boy out of my rage. My anger did not sniff out the life of an innocent, only the guilty. And here Frankie was, like a flower in full bloom. I went out to the garden and began to cry again. But they were tears of immense relief.

From then on, Frankie was like another son to me. He regularly wrote and even visited when he could. I like to think he saw me as a second mother. Though he was wise enough to never speak of his own to me.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ There was one party we were throwing two weeks later. Harry’s favorite wine was flowing, and the guests were all laughing and socializing among themselves, including some of my own family members and of course my children. We finished our dinner and two friends who played violin and piano were warming up for dances.

But as it began and guests paired up on the wider floor of our room, I felt dizzy and a slight pain in my chest. I coughed, noticing only a little blood on my handkerchief. I then dashed upstairs. I sat down on the chair. I didn’t feel completely weak, but I was taken aback my heart racing. There was the sound of footsteps and the bedroom door creaked open.

“Stella, are you alright?” Harold asked, poking his head through.

My blood froze when he stepped in, and I took in his tuxedo from the party. It continued downstairs. And beyond, there was music.

Oh, dear God, this again! I saw this scene before, and I didn’t like how things ended up. Here again was my husband in a tuxedo, me feeling bad, and a party with dancing going on. My eyes started up, dreading seeing William’s beard, dreading reliving that moment in Aldwinter…

But there was no beard on my husband’s cleanly shaven chin this time. This wasn’t the past anymore.

“I am…I just coughed a little blood and got scared, but I feel alright…” I explained.

I heard the music and some clapping and chatter going on. Even my children’s laughter.

“Do you feel well, Stella? I’ll call the party off early if you like…” he offered.

“No, don’t! it’s just…it’s just…and you with your suit I…I just…” I muttered.

I sighed deeply and wiped away the tears with my handkerchief. I saw Harry’s shoulders soften.

“Harry…I don’t know if I will get better or get worse but for tonight…tonight you won’t leave me, will you?” I asked.

He stepped forward and touched my shoulder softly.

“Oh, of course not, Stella…” he vowed.

“Hold me, Harry,” I requested.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. Anything, anything, I would change this- the past would not repeat itself again. Not with me.

“Is the dancing starting?” I asked.

“Yes, it is! The first one is ending- the waltz is next…” he recalled.

“Harry…I haven’t danced in a long, long time. I’d like to try and dance again…could you dance with me?”

He led me to stand.

“You only need to ask.” He responded.

As we headed to the hall, he draped his arm around mine. Then I looked at him and stopped my feet, I leaned closer to talk to him while we were still alone.

“I don't speak much of Will anymore, I try not to…I don’t want to bring him into this marriage, but I will be honest. This scene… reminded me of a memory I had with him. Do you remember me telling you about when I told him to dance with Cora?”

“Oh god, I remember now. I almost forgot…so you think that will happen again?” He puzzled.

I nodded. Harry cupped my cheek, keeping his other hand on mine.

“Stella, for each hour of your tears, I’ll replace it with an hour of happiness. I’ll take each moment of anguish and create ways to make you laugh. For each minute you felt unloved by him, I will make you feel worshipped. And if anyone, even you, tells me to dance with some other lady, I’ll refuse and dance with you instead.…”

We pressed our foreheads together, feeling the warmth and smoothness. I felt my tears had dried and I was smiling.

“Let’s dance, Harry,” I said.

We went into the main room, all cleared out. John already had one young lady as a partner on the floor. Joanna stopped her chatter among her new circle of friends to watch and James was watching as he sat, a plate of chocolate cake on his lap. Their eyes were on me, seeing if I was well enough. If I would fall or faint in dancing. Harry placed a hand around my waist, and I took his free hand in mine, our fingers intertwining. I kept a hand on his warm back. The violin and piano duo began playing. The waltz began.

We waltzed at a steady pace. I stepped into that square formation. He met mine with equality. His feet never once grazed my toes. I was keeping up without feeling breathless, weak, and with no pain or urge to cough. There was only dizziness as the crowd turned into a blur around us. I felt the warmth of his hand and Harry smiled the kindest, gentlest, most loving smile I had seen on a man, on a husband, on a person. And I returned it. I focused on his eyes as the music swelled as if giving us wings so we could fly up to the heavens and the clouds and stars themselves. Time itself stopped and there was only us as we moved together. The only feeling surging in my chest was that of joy.

Then finally, the song ended, and we paused. We clapped our hands in thanks. I glanced to see my children all looking at me with cheerful relief. When I looked back at Harry, he smiled and kept an arm around my back.

“You’re a wonderful dancer Stella, we should do this hourly,” he praised with a wink.

“Let’s drink some lemonade and then have another dance then!” I responded.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

As I write this, I have been married to Harold Cavaradossi for about ten years. Eleven years after I heard I was dying.

Harry was, is, and will be faithful to me. I know this with confidence. If there was something that needed novelty or something he lacked, something that he felt was wrong with me, he would tell me directly, his heart and eyes never wandering from mine.

I have seen the nineteenth century become the twentieth. I have lived to see Forty and past it, I may turn fifty if this keeps up. I have seen all three of my children grow up and become adults themselves.

Joanna has gone to a woman’s college, relieved it didn’t just teach women domestic arts but academic ones. She moved to London and has embraced the idea of the New Woman- she even has a suit complete with pants she enjoys wearing when she bikes. She works as a nurse for her income. She regularly writes to parliament insisting on a woman’s right to divorce her husband and does so all while she puts curls in her hair.

John is set to inherit the seniority of the Cavaradossi bank from his stepfather. He always hides sausages and treats in his pockets to spoil any dog he comes across. After schooling, he works alongside his father fervently at the bank. He is courting a young lady he is deeply in love with and intent on proposing. We are confident she will accept. To think I may live to see him married and perhaps as a grandmother!

James has grown so handsome that I often see young ladies eyeing him and he enjoys a good dance or flirtation. He enjoys reading books on theology and philosophy and shall debate them among his peers for hours, sometimes even going to church to discuss with the rectors themselves about their sermons. Though he is yet undecided as to what vocation he shall use for his life’s work, Harry tells him not to fret and to choose off on passion. He still has a weakness for chocolate and cannot resist sneaking bites of it during his classes.

I will indulge you with a glimpse into my private life in the marriage bed. It made the moment even more perfect; I think.

This morning, my husband, Harry, pleasured me in our bed. I felt the rise and bliss of that release as I repeated his name like a prayer. I went to heaven in that bed and floated down from it. We caught our breath. He removed his hand from my skirt, wiped it on the mattress, and held me close, our noses touching.

“Happy Anniversary, Stella.” He wished.

“Happy Anniversary, Harry,” I repeated softly.

I kissed the tip of his nose, his face bright red and scrunched with smiling. I reached a hand to play with his curls.

“How’s the loveliest lady in England today, hm? Not sick of me yet?” he asked.

“After ten years not yet…” I answered.

I placed both of my hands on his warm, solid chest as he stretched out, arms folded under his head. I then rested my chin on him as I looked up at his handsome face.

“Tell me the story about your adventures at sea…” I requested.

“I’ve already told that one hundreds of times!” he laughed.

“I don’t care, I like to hear it…let me hear it all, Harry, I’ll listen...especially the part about seeing the dolphins!”

He smoothed my hair as he told me about his time at sea. We hardly notice the hour pass by except for the sun slowly rising. I rose halfway in surprise, my stomach rumbling.

“I am hungry though…could we eat outside?” I requested.

Harry agreed. We dressed quickly and simply. I made sure my cane was right outside the front door, should the occasional bout of dizziness happen. Or a vision. Some say tuberculosis brings visions in a later stage but so far, they have been few and far between. I still have life in me yet and I’m determined to enjoy it. No matter how much time I have left.

We gathered our food in a picnic basket, held a blanket, and walked outside. I have a whole garden filled with flowers with as many blue ones as I could find seeds for. There is an apple tree in our front yard. Harry draped the blanket right under the tree, yet close enough that one could smell the flowers of both the garden and the apple blossoms of the tree.

Once we finished the meal, he at once grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to lay down on the blanket with him. He drowned me in kisses, and I giggled as if I was just an adolescent. I even felt one of his hands reach up to touch my thigh beneath my skirt.

“Harold! We’re outside! Our neighbors could see us!” I teased.

I saw his face, and just over the green leaves shuffling with the wind blowing through them. The sun alighting his blonde curls like a halo.

“Let them! Let them all see how much I love you, Stella…”

He kissed me with tongue and passion, tasting our meal again. We saw birds fly into the branches. They were singing their own songs and had twigs in their beaks. Soon there would be nests and eggs and chicks- new life. According to Fanny’s letters, Vincent said that the name of “Aldwinter” translated from German to English as “Old Winter”. Not here in Kersey where it was warm and so full of the promise of spring and life.

When I turned, right near the tree trunk among the grass, I found a little blue wildflower. I picked it up and bedecked it into one of Harry’s curls. He took my hand to kiss each of my knuckles and we melted into each other’s arms again beneath the shade and sunlight.

I know my time will come. And very, very likely, the consumption shall have that inevitable victory. But after such betrayal, such heartbreak, such tears, and rage …I was so at peace and happy that if I died at that moment, I thought, I wouldn’t have complained. I would finally be able to say I was content with my life.

I hope you too, no matter what may happen to you, no matter what betrayals you face or heartbreaks are forced upon you, no matter what struggles or hardships you have, you have strength. If I could, so could you. I pray that when you encounter someone like my first husband, when you find your Serpent, you stand up to him and tell him no. That you find someone like Harry or Fanny, or Mrs. Lee or Martha or the other Aldwinter ladies - someone to listen, to help, to love you and for you to love them. Or even perhaps fight for you- should the time arise- if you cannot fight for yourself.

May you go outside and if it is dark, try to find stars shining above you. Think of my name. Think of me. So, you will remember me and see that light in all the darkness and burning strong in a ball of fire, triumphant.

If it is light outside, go out and try to find a blue wildflower. Blue itself is a rare color in nature, so look very carefully. And once you find one, may you see it and be filled with that heaven-like tranquility and grace. If you like, you can try to press it. Or pluck it. Or leave it as it is and admire it before you continue your way. In a way, it’s like a piece of me watching over you, my dear reader.

For even amidst the deepest misery, as I have experienced, there are those who love us and who have yet to love us. There is life continuing without giving up. After we mourn, there is the eventual promise that one day, we will find the joy of being alive again.

I thank you so much for reading my words and hearing my story, whoever you are. Reader, I do not know your faith, but I will finish this with a prayer for your blessing. After all, you should know by now I am a woman of the Church of England.

Reader, may you be blessed. May you have hope and strength as a star or a blue wildflower. Because you have listened to me, may you be as listened to and come through your own challenges, as I have. Lord graciously hear us.

Reader, if you are one of my fellow betrayed spouses or lovers, I ask for heaven to bless you immensely. I am with you, holding your hand as you mourn and weep and rage. You are absolved, for you are the true innocents suffering from the sins of another. Lord, graciously hear us.

Even if you are not, Reader, may you reading this always ask for justice and find it, as I did. May you ask for love and find it again, as I did. May you always possess courage, as I learned to. Lord graciously hear us.

Your friend, Stella Harris Ransome Cavaradossi, wishes you the best as we depart for now.

I commend you, I commend you, I commend you all to mercy and protection.

Amen.

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