A/N: I was so happy with all the wonderful PDBY feedback I got, I continued. Sort of. If you can call it that. In the end, it's less sequel, more "Alec is my favorite character so obviously I need to write his funeral." And it's not even that.

Warnings. Mild cussing, fragmentation to an extreme, and this is unedited, just to let you know, so grammar might not be really going on. (I must seem like I never use proper grammar. I do, I promise, it's just I do most ff writing in the wee morning hours.)

I hope you enjoy, despite the complete lack of joyful material; It's quite lovely you're simply reading this. Thanks.

Please Don't Forget Me

It wasn't anyone's fault. We can argue over that for hours or days or years and never get anywhere, never be able to pinpoint responsibility on anyone no matter what comfort it would give you. And besides; everybody dies. If there is somebody to blame, does that change anything? If we grieve or not, does that?

Everyone is dressed in white.

Tradition stands as always, refuses to be broken no matter who dies or how the world is ending. Shadowhunter tradition stands, and while some find stability in this and others find it choking, for once – for this person – it just feels wrong. Too inaccurate, too out of place, really, for this person who only wore black.

And this was unplanned and unconscious, a respect to tradition and also to personal habits, but at Alec's funeral, everyone wore something blue.

It's a clear day, and it's beautiful. Blue sky, green grass, slight breeze all unusually spared from the regular city smog. They end up not going back to Alicante, and stay in New York instead; after all, it had been his home the longest. There's too much to do, too much to try and ready themselves for the best they can; for the nephillim, one death can't stop them from moving forward, they can't allow themselves to so much as still. Jonathan is coming, with hell rising to his call and war with it.

None of this stops when someone dies.

Maryse and Robert are both here, carefully making sure to stand far apart but their grief tangible enough to dissolve any heated tension between the,. Luke is holding Jocelyn, their bodies fit together and their faces solemn. The Penhallows appear, the entirety of the Blackthorns too, Aline and Helen leaning against each other and twisting the rings on their fingers; Maia, so strong and tough and unyielding, is crying, while Jordan stands with her in silence. Other Shadowhunters attend as well, and even a few other Downworlders who had met Alec through Magnus. The nephillim either avert their eyes from them or can't keep from staring, as if they can't comprehend why they would show, and a few of the Downworlders look surprised at themselves – but Maia says quietly yet firmly, "He was my friend." And that's all that needs to be said.

In the center of all these people stands his closest family; Jace, with Clary beside him, Isabelle, fiercely holding Simon's hand. They stay close together, sorrow and pain around them and inside them, evident in the air and storming in their eyes. It's in the way they hold each other (tightly) and the way they hold themselves (barely). It's real and intense and it hurts.

Magnus shows too, acknowledges the greetings but doesn't approach, stays on the edge and says nothing. There's a thousand words in a hundred languages that could be considered appropriate; but really, in the end, what is there to say that makes any difference?

I'd like to thank you.

Aline steps forward first.

She looks down at him; no, at his body. Then she looks down at the silver ring on her finger, the only jewelry she wears except for a blue bracelet on the same hand. It's not engraved with her family's crest, but it's hers nonetheless, given to her by someone who loves her, and it was largely due to him, the boy who inhabited this body, that she even admitted that she loved Helen, even to herself.

He doesn't seem to understand why she's thanking him; startled, almost. He cocks his head and just asks her, "Why?"

The Accords Hall flashes through her mind and she smiles. She's standing in a sea of Shadowhunters and Downworlders and that's a thrill she's never experienced before; she's set her jaw and tied her hair and is resolved, is refusing to run away. And when she hears the shocked murmurs around her and turns around to see Alec kissing the warlock the blood is pounding through her head and she doesn't know why, at first. It isn't till later, till after Brocelind Plain, that she considers it. And what it could mean.

"Ave Atque Vale, Shadowhunter. And thank you, Alec."

You seem to hate me most of the time. I don't take it that personally, even if I did save your life. You seem to kind of hate the whole world. But I see you looking a Jace and I see myself looking at Clary, and I figure – maybe we have that one thing in common. And maybe it might make you dislike me a little less.

He stands by the cold stone, cold as his own skin, now. He searches for what to say and comes up empty. They can't hear him. Izzy had squeezed his hand once and he'd offered her a smile and then he'd walked alone. They're still waiting for him to speak though, he's still waiting for himself to speak, and there should be words by now, shouldn't there be?

They all look at him expectantly, facing him in silence as if for a proper farewell; all he can do is stumble over words that only scratch the surface of what could be said and brace himself. He watches them walk away, leaving him standing alone on the hill as he draws on memories of summers here, then accompanied by his fierce best friend with fiery hair, as he prepares to summon an angel.

Simon wipes his hands on his blue jeans (he's no shadowhunter, and he doesn't think Alec would mind.) And talks. About Clary ("despite everything, I'm glad she brought me into this. This mess. This side of the world. She'll always be my best friend no matter what else happens – You know what that's like, right? Maybe she'd have been my parabatai.") About Jace ("I did hate him at first, yeah, that was probably really obvious. How could I not, really, did you when you first met? You hated Clary, didn't you – that was obvious too – but you don't anymore. It was the same kind of hate, I think. Jealousy.") About Izzy ("Okay. I'm not sure how to say this – You probably knew, of course – Please don't kill me, I'm not going to put it past you and I've gone through that once and it was very unpleasant – I think I'm in love with Izzy.

I hope you're cool with that".)

In some ways they really are quite similar; they've both been estranged from their parents, albeit in very different ways. They've both proven to have amazing sisters. They both find it hard to talk, sometimes, and if this was Jace or Izzy's funeral he can very well see them laughing at him in heaven but Alec, he thinks, would be courteous enough not to do so. He talks about his family. He talks about his band, of all things. He talks about how strange and yet natural it is to think, this is my life now.

The boy walking in front of him (he wishes he'd slow down, really, not everyone can so easily go that fast) looks a little troubled. Then again, every time Alec sees him he tends to look a little troubled, so he's not sure what to do about that. At first glance, Alec is everything that Simon had come to associate with the increasingly familiar term "nephillim" – now, as he knows him better (but still not all that well) he wonders if Alec actually likes the side of the world he's been born into.

Alec is part of it, whether he likes it or not; he's one of them, and that can be clear enough in what he sometimes says, if not in the way he sometimes talks. But Simon's headed to his death, possibly, and not for the first time now. He's a part of this now too.

Later ,he's feeling uneasy in the presence of these older shadowhunters (Alec and Jace and Izzy are truthful, at least, to a farther extent) and he can tell Alec feels it too; he leaves, but Simon has the possibly crazy idea that help still may come.

"I don't know if I ever outright said this, but we are friends, you know."

It is good to see you, Clary.

There's just the slightest hint of bottle glass blue beneath his eyelids. With the hole in his chest covered he looks like he's sleeping. More peaceful than she usually saw him. She smoothes the blue sash around her waist and considers how to begin.

Her head still hurts and she drags a hand across her scalp glaring at nothing in particular; she has definitely not acted her finest, true, but neither had he. It isn't until after a battle and nearly a death that she'll regret what she said and try to untie the lies she's told and refuse to back down but agree to back off.

Alec had hated her, that's fact. She's not actually sure if she had hated him. Getting slammed into a wall is enough for anyone to hold some hard feelings; then again, and she smiles despite herself, she'd practically done the same thing to Jace.

His offer is unexpected but she's pleased to get it; his apology takes her by surprise even more so but she recovers quickly and accepts. His strides are long and effortless and she struggles to keep up but is glad for the chat and the laugh and the smile. It occurs to her much later she never apologized herself.

She would if she could. Time doesn't work like that, though. All she can do know is hope he knows.

When he smiles, she has to admit this, he's prettier than either of his siblings and that's saying a lot. He's a shadowhunter by appearance, no doubt; angelic beauty and coiled strength, eyes that can go cold. The similarity to Jace and Izzy is clear by just watching them stand with each other later, regal posture and hard defense; yet so are the differences. They're arguing, most likely, but it's playful, Izzy talking loudly and Jace smirking at both of them and Alec interjecting with sarcastic remarks. Someone does need to take care of his siblings' fire, she realizes, and he does it well without even tapping in to his own. If he doesn't hate her – and she's relatively sure that he doesn't anymore, but she wouldn't bank everything on that yet – they may just get along.

There had still been tension between them after that, of course, about Jace about hunting about them being unable to avoid crashing into each other's lives. She holds nothing against him, no hatred, no bitterness. They were never close, but sometimes they did understand each other better than anyone else (Such as when Jace and Izzy would fire up and Clary and Alec would watch over them until they got swept up in it to just so they could control what they were allotted control over; ) Alec had cared about them so much, she thinks, so, so much, and she bites the base of her thumb to make an effort to control the shaking that's coming on.

"Goodbye", she speaks to him, goodbye for now. Not for good, of course; she knows he'll be watching over them, and it's cheesy but true. She doesn't use the typical shadowhunter farewell, she's sick of it by now, and that's one thing they had in common, a part of them that wasn't a shadowhunter and was simply their own.

He laughs at that, genuinely amused at her words, and she grins back.

"I'm sorry about all the ridiculous lies I told you when we first met. I'm sorry that even now I don't know you, not as well as I'd like. And it's about time I told you one truth. You're one of the bravest people I ever met."

Please never say those words in front of my parents.

They approach together, even if they no longer are. They're still his parents, by blood if by nothing else (not by memories or home or gratitude or comfort) and he deserves to have them that way for the last (and a first) time.

Robert whispers "Ave Atque Vale" In a voice soft and pained. He says no more; he can't, so he closes his eyes and stands still and tries to block the images of a funeral for another son and so shortly from there and no he cannot break down here he will not let himself

He cannot.

His tie, silk and blue, feels suffocating around his neck. His mouth feels dry and his hands feel cold and he hadn't accepted his son for who he was, he hadn't, and now it's too late to take about all the uneasiness that had buried his love for his child and it's too late.

It's late when they come home but the kids are still up, they'll need to talk to Hodge about that. He can hear Izzy laughing in the other room and Jace's mock outraged reply. They say hi to him as he enters the room and he responds with a hello in kind, but Alec doesn't greet him and Robert shakes his head ever so slightly at that, missing the way Alec's fist clench and his eyes lower as he turns away from him.

Maryse stands equally solemn, blue earrings and blue eyes (eyes so similar to her sons but Alec's held a light that was all his own.) A song floats through her memory; Alec had been better at French than her and picked it up rapidly and the voice singing in her mind is not her own but his.

She doesn't know the boy in the accords hall. He looks like her son but she doesn't know him, has never know him, and it's honestly terribly never bothered her before but it does not as she's unsure that she ever will.

Why hadn't she known? Known anything? Could she have kept her family together, created better ties to her children, she asks herself, and the answer she gives herself is you should have tried.

She finds him sitting on the roof of all places. He doesn't look up but she knows he must hear her coming and she wonders whether or not he's always purposely avoided her gaze. It's chilly up here, but he doesn't seem to mind; the lights of Alicante truly are a sight to behold and she soaks it in herself a minute, all too aware.

It's clear he isn't going to speak first. She doesn't know what to say either, even though there's so much, she knows there is. She opens her mouth to say something, she's not sure what, but

"Do you hate me?" He speaks without looking at her, still focused on the glowing city lights, and his tone is soft, genuinely curious and a little resigned.

"I could never," Maryse tells him, and it's not quite the truth but it's true.

They are his parents and they love him. They just wish they had come to terms with this sooner, and shown that love more.

The baby nestled in Maryse arms has beautiful blue eyes the same color as hers. He's an adorable child, pale white skin and pure black hair and all their friends coo over him while they rest and they smile at each other as they begin to build the world their beautiful newborn Alec will inherit. He deserves their effort, their idealism. He deserves it all.

"Ave Atque Vale. Goodbye, darling."

He's alive. Do you think I would be this functional if he wasn't?

I'm with you. Always.

Their binding rune looks the same as it always has, and yet he can't stop staring at it now, like if he concentrates hard enough Alec will come back. He is hollow. Empty, lost. So this is how it feels like to lose your parabatai. Your brother. Your best friend.

His father is dead and he's being sent away to New York and he hates this, he's screaming inside his head; the Lightwoods are nice, the adults polite and Izzy ecstatic (he's not about to admit how happy that makes him feel) and then there's the quiet boy who has barely said a word to him and maybe that's why Jace takes to him immediately, even if it doesn't seem to be mutual.

He can't trust anyone of course, he's acutely keeping this in mind; so he honestly has no idea when he started to trust Alec anyways, push him till he snaps in return, tell him secrets and make stories and adventure together.

Jace is used to being strong. Or, at least, acting like it; he often hides how weak he feels by fighting with people and monsters and some who are both. Now, though, he doesn't have the strength to cover up his weakness. Alec was that strength.

"Will you be my parabatai?'

Alec looks startled but Jace isn't deterred, still grinning at him as he throws the next knife into the target with a satisfying thunk.

"Seriously? You know that can't be undone," Alec says, still sounding surprised, and Jace rolls his eyes.

"Obviously. And of course I'm sure. I'm always sure." He throws another. "So, will you?"

Alec throws his own knife. "Yes," he answers simply. Jace grins even wider and throws again.

They had created a rhythm over the years, made out of half planned misadventures and sneaking out at midnight, arguments they never quite resolve and sparring sessions without mercy. They would get some notion and act on it; Alec would come up with the initial idea, near impossible (and brilliant), Jace would execute it, near impossible (and amazing). "You know, there are only four walls, not five." They worked together effortlessly. Parabatai.

Alec wakes up screaming and Jace – well, Jace doesn't know what to do about it. "What do you dream about?" he asks, but he gets no answer. In turn, Alec asks Jace if he ever has nightmares, and Jace answers, "I don't fear anything. So I don't." The conversation drifts into something else before they drift asleep again and Jace wonders right before he loses consciousness whether Alec knows he's lying.

He guesses that he does.

Jace has died once and he can't remember how it felt anymore; he doesn't mind, really, not remembering how it felt, but he does regret never asking Alec how it had felt to him. Not once did Jace ever actually mention dying to Alec – he might not have known and now it's just one more thing they should have talked about – but did he feel it, feel their bond breaking for a moment? Because Jace can feel it now. It wasn't a sudden snap, it was an emptiness, and it might not ever go away and he's not sure he wants it to if he can't have Alec in its place.

"Why do you want to die so much?" Alec demands, rage giving him energy and fury burning in his eyes,

Jace just smirks; it's all he can do. "Why live if you aren't going to live hard?"

"Taking risks like that? That's your idea of living? It could have killed us both and Izzy wouldn't know until our bodies were found in the morning."

"It's practically morning, now actually. And you didn't have to come with me."

"I actually care about your life, even if you don't."

Usually he tries not to cry, usually he doesn't need to, but now he doesn't care that his eyes are wet and a tear falls on the blue collar of his white shirt. Shadowhunters are taught not to take anything for granted, it's a lesson that's almost literally engrave in their skin, and after the life he's had, Jace knows that well. Clary he worries about losing all the time, Izzy the same, but Alec? He had forgotten to worry about Alec. He hadn't prepared, he doesn't know how to fight back, not this time.

Jace Lightwood is lost.

"Were you really in love with me?" He asks out of curiosity.

He expects Alec to flush, but he doesn't; he tilts his head and looks like he's seriously considering the question. "I don't know," He says. "I'm not even sure what love is."

Jace smiles. "Ah," he sighs dramatically, throwing an arm around Alec's shoulders, " do any of us?"

"Alec. I… Alec I'm so, so, sorry, I… Damn it Alec, I',… God, I just hope you're alright, wherever you are."

Izzy, if anything were to happen to you, I…

It's her turn to step forward and it's hard to do. It's like Max all over again and it's her fault all over again and if they hadn't dragged him out with them if they hadn't pushed him if she had listened to what he was trying to say for once maybe he would still be alive still alive

She's unsteady on her heels and she's not walking with her customary grace and she can't think anymore, all she can do is breathe and even that's difficult why and Alec could still be alive

But it doesn't matter, all the possibilities are dead with him and there will never be another chance to make it right again.

He's the first person she ever talks to. "Alec" is the first name off her lips, before "mom" or "dad" or "shadowhunter" (though that one follows suit quickly enough.") Her earliest memories are of him, big blue eyes looking at her mildly interested or somewhat annoyed or delightedly, arguments over toys and wheedling him into playing with her and climbing into his bed after she'd had a nightmare. She doesn't remember Alicante well as a kid, doesn't remember the beauty she won't admit how much she's struck by the next time they visit, but she does have just the haziest memories of leaving, Alec's hair blowing in the wind and holding their mother's hand, neither him nor Izzy knowing where they're going ("New York" doesn't comprehend with her yet) or what's coming next.

They were similar, the two of them. Not obviously, beyond the fair skin and dark hair and delicate features; there was Isabelle, fierce, brave, and rash, occasionally prone to retreating into herself, in contrast to Alec, quiet, cautious, occasionally prone to outbursts. But they were both protective, secretive, so fragile and sometimes so lost. Isabelle has always thought she knew some things about Alec before he knew them himself. It's only lately, though, now that he's gone (no) that she wonders if she knew him less than she thought.

"You can't come", he says, but she's determined to wear him out this time. He never wants her to fight; she thinks he's having difficulties realizing this is what she lives for. Isabelle was born to be a shadowhunter. No one's going to stop that, not even her older brother.

Ignoring his comment, she continues getting ready and grins at him when Jace vouches for her (he, at least, understands.) Alec looks concerned, and irritated, but he lets it slide; she ends up killing the demon later that night and it's a rush of adrenaline and it's terrifying and she might have broken her wrist and it's one of the best feeling in the world.

It was always Izzy and Jace and Alec, and before Jace came to live with them it was just Izzy and Alec, and that's been changing for a while now, what with Clary and Simon and Magnus coming into their lives, and she had been okay with that but she hadn't wanted it to change like this. She's never been able to rely on her parents and Hodge was always a little distant from them and she cared about Max immensely (but oh god, he's dead too) but he was too young to really confide in. The past months have been so crazy, even for a bunch of demon fighting teenagers, but she's always had Alec. Even when she pushed him away.

Her chest feels heavy and maybe it's the sadness, maybe it's not. In place of her usual red ruby she's wearing a bright sapphire necklace, the jewel just as big, and it's not quite the color of Alec's eyes but it's the closest she could find. She doesn't want to forget that color but is scared she will though part of her also thinks that that's impossible, she's scared that every time she looks at her mother she'll break down crying because of the similarity while at the same time being scared that soon she'll forget what color Alec's eyes were and just use Maryse's as reference, because they aren't the same, not entirely. On top of everything she's scared of falling in love, has always been, and it's so much worse now that Alec isn't there for her to depend on when she needs him.

Standing in the middle of the accords hall is her brother, kissing Magnus with his arms wrapped around him, and she's grinning like she's about to burst. The pride she feels for her older brother might be about to lift her off the ground; they might all die before the sun rises again and right now she simply doesn't care. For once she doesn't mind being utterly taken by surprise (but really, she can hardly believe it, when did Alec gather the strength to do this) and in fact is quite ecstatic about the way it's working out. After all, what better time to show people you love them?

They talk about it later, at the party. She grins all over again at the memory and nudges him when they get a chance alone. "What fit of insanity brought that on, by the way?" She asks in a whisper, and he knows exactly what she's talking about by the slight flush dusting his cheeks.

"Oh, I don't know" He says, and hurries on when she opens her mouth to protest, "I wasn't planning on doing that! Not in the least. I just –"

"Was suddenly overcome by passion" Isabelle extrapolates, and Alec' pokes her in the side, blush darkened considerably. It just makes her grin wider.

"It was more than that, though" He continues after a moment. "Suddenly I just thought, we may all be dead with the next twenty four hours. I might as well make it clear to everyone."

"Including Magnus," Isabelle adds knowingly, and Alec concedes the point. "For what it's worth," she says, her smile no less cheerful but a little softer too, "I think it was wonderful."

"I might have guessed that from the way you've been smiling," Alec responds dryly, but he's smiling to. "Thanks, Iz."

Every one can see her crying and she doesn't give a damn this time.

"Alec – please – I need you so much. I can't do this without you."

Isabelle Lightwood has always moved fast, has always moved like a whirlwind , and yet these past few months have completely thrown her off her momentum. Angels, demons, a brief but thorough shattering of everything she's ever known to be true. She's even (maybe, she tells herself, maybe) fallen in love.

"I can't fucking do this without you!"

She can't even breathe.

"Isabelle, you're the fiercest person I know, you know that?"

She smiles slowly. "Of course I do, Alec. But what brought this on?"

He shrugs. "Just making sure you knew."

"Thank you for always being there for me, even when I didn't think I deserved it. Thank you for protecting Jace and I, and I did think it was unnecessary, you know, but – all I know is that we're going to have to be much more careful fighting – from here on out. Thank you for being my brother, Alec – god, that's one of the sappiest things I've ever said but it's true. I'm going to fight for you. I'm going to fight for you and Max, and I know – I know that you'll be with us the whole way. Be happy, Alec, because you deserve it, and I miss you so much. I love you so much. And maybe – I can't do this without you, but maybe I don't have to. Please, just be here."

Regret is such a pointless emotion, don't you agree?

Eventually it's over. No one knows how long it takes or what time they end it. No one keeps track of time anymore.

It's time to start planning for war again, and it's time to rest (but no one can fully sleep any more, and no one can guarantee peaceful sleep uninterrupted by nightmares.) They leave in a trace, drifting off with few goodbyes between them, the downworlders to their separate lives and the nephillim to their councils, to their prayers. War encompasses all of them.

Clary leaves with Jocelyn and Luke and Simon, kissing Jace like they're drowning at sea; Isabelle hugs Simon close, resting her chin on his shoulder and trying her best to breathe again while his hands trace patterns on her back. Only one person lingers till all else are gone.

You love me?

After living for centuries, a person gathers so many memories, so many experiences; so many it becomes impossible, painful, to remember them all. There are a few people that still stick out in Magnus' mind, that he still thinks of fondly and bitterly and who he would consider to have any concrete impact on his life at all.

Alec surpasses them all.

Walking slowly towards Alec's body – Slowly, slowly, like he did the last time he saw Alec, only then he was walking away – Magnus' body aches all over and he's no longer making the distinction between physical and phantom injury. He does blame himself, of course, if not for Alec's death then simply for making him hurt.

He wants to give Alec another Chance. He wants Alec to give him another chance. He wants Alec to be here again, to tell him that they've both made mistakes and that they can learn from it, to kiss him and hide his face against Magnus' neck when he gets flustered and pull Magnus closer by his jean pockets, he wants to feel Alec's smile against his collar bone and to hear his genuine laughter and taste his cooking and the essence of coffee lingering on his lips. Every morning since Isabelle had called him and left that single breathless voicemail he's woken up reaching into empty space, and eventually he left his bed and bedroom in favor of the couch in the den, even made a single night trip to Spain to crash in Tessa's apartment; literally, crash, and she'd made tea and listened to him talk about anything but Alec and stayed up late into the night, watching him when she'd thought he was asleep with sympathy and empathy and memories of her own. (The date she always takes every year to go back to London, to see Jem, is coming up soon, and Magnus could tell she was thinking of it.) It's been better since then, the insomnia, the careless moment right after wakening where it feels like Alec is still there, but it's not enough and it won't ever be.

He wakes up slowly, becoming aware of the room piece by piece (who left the curtains open, where the hell are the blankets, is it really noon? We have to stop going to bed at five in the morning) and flings an arm across Alec's waist, who turns over to face him looking still half asleep himself.

"Morning, darling," Magnus says cheerfully.

"Is it really?"

"Afternoon, if you want to be technical about it."

Alec sighs, rolls over and sits up, stretching before standing on his feet; Magnus is quite content to spread out on the bed and enjoy the view. A few minutes later Magnus can hear the water running, and nods off a little again. The scent of coffee wakes him up again, so he goes to wash up himself, and a shower proceeds to get him fully alert. He walks out into the kitchen wearing nothing but his jeans and stops his boyfriend from where he's pouring coffee, pressing him against the counter and kissing him thoroughly, and Alec sets the glass down without so much as a glance so that he can hook his thumbs through Magnus' belt loops.

"I think something's burning," Magnus murmurs cheerfully after a minute, and Alec swears before going to the toaster and telling him not to steal his coffee, get his own cup.

Magnus snaps his fingers to set the table, including milk and sugar for his own coffee ("I don't understand how you can drink it the way you do," he'd complained to Alec once, unsure if he was actually listening, "black and plain, just like your wardrobe-") but soon it's forgotten all over again in favor of kissing Alec again instead.

The past does matter. He sees that now.

A brilliant blue ring shines on his finger, so close to the shade of Alec's eyes though not exact. Magnus runs his hand through his hair and for once has nothing to say. He settles for the same words spoken last time; "Aku Cinta Kamu," he whispers.

"I will never forget you. I will never stop loving you. And though I cannot know what will happen when I die myself, all I can hope for is to be with you."

And: Finito! The quotes at the beginnings of each of the sections are, obviously, various excerpts from the series; all the other words are mine, and I don't know if I should be glad for that or not. Please do review, and thank you for bothering to read through, well, all that. It really does mean a lot to me.