I love you guys. Thank you for all the love, again. We're looking at two more chapters after this. This has the most info in it yet, but I'm curious to hear your theories about what happened.

Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

"Do you know what it's like to lose a part of you?"

Those are the first words she speaks after finally opening the door and allowing him inside. It takes him a couple minutes to calm her out of the panic mode and bandage her hand. He finds a candle on the floor in the living room, glass shattered into a million pieces. It's next to the TV, also cracked and it makes him wonder what was on it for her to freak out so badly.

She doesn't tell him about that. She simply asks that question while she picks her tea bag up and down, while stirring it with a spoon at the same time. It's a loaded question, one he's not sure he wants to know the answer to having seen that, and yet, he knows that his answer is yes, yes I have.

But he's not ready to share that information.

And it's just not about him.

He looks up in alarm, still not sure how to answer and she just sighs.

"It's been two months today," she adds after a moment. "I stopped by the cemetery. I got him flowers—I'm not sure if boys even like flowers." A frown appears onto her face and she stares at him quizzically. "Would you have liked flowers? I didn't get roses. They seemed too out of place. I got lilies. Orange and yellow ones. Not the smelly ones either. I could hear him complain about that if…"

She trails off, face showing horror.

It's like she makes herself relive her nightmare without meaning to.

"Did you go to his arraignment?" she questions. "Wait. Don't answer that. You're not a cop. Why would you?"

Austin doesn't want to admit he did. He wanted to see the bastard pay.

Except, Ally is doing all the talking, and he feels like a moron.

"I hope he never gets out," she says quietly. "My mom always said its bad to wish suffering on someone, but I think maybe this time it would be warranted."

Definitely, he thinks.

"She was religious," she adds. "My father, too. We lost them the year after I graduated. It's our house now," she says, motioning to the house. A frown appears again. "My house, I guess."

He's still silent, and he feels stupid. Some comfort you are, Moon.

"I shouldn't be telling you all of this," she murmurs, looking more upset. "I just wanted to thank you, I've managed to screw that up twice. You could've just left before, never looked back. You could've showed up to the hospital in the coming weeks, avoided my gaze. I would've eventually gotten the point." She finally takes a sip of her tea, which has stopped steaming for some time now. She looks up at him, with the saddest eyes. "Why didn't you?"

He finally finds his voice, "I thought you could use a friend."

That's how it starts. He tries to check in on her once day. If it's not at the hospital, it's at the house. He still doesn't understand how she still lives in it, and marvels one afternoon that they got the blood out of the floor there. He doesn't ever question how. And if it's not at the house, sometimes it's for coffee. Ally oddly seems most at peace in the house, again something he doesn't understand, but he doesn't question anything. He doesn't have that right.

She usually makes tea, waits for it to get cold before she drinks it. Sometimes there are baked goods on the table and he'll help himself to one. She does most of the talking. If it's a bad day, he gets there and she's kind of a mess. By the time he leaves, she's smiling best case scenario, or at least no longer staring at that room with those damn doe eyes.

They never have to talk about much. She never brings him up, and he doesn't dare.

There are open ended questions, ones he wonders if he's really supposed to answer.

A part of him wonders if he annoys her, by not answering. Most of the time, she just changes the subject before he can even formulate something appropriate.

It's a Tuesday afternoon when she makes a quiet proposal. He's fixing something in the bathroom, a leaky faucet for her. He didn't even know how that worked. She's telling him it's been doing that for years on and off. Usually they just got duct tape.

It's out of her mouth before she realizes it. A laugh escapes, "Brett was not a handy man."

They both freeze in the small bathroom and he straightens, trying to see what saying his name means to her. She pauses before looking down at the pipe, still remnants of the last attempt to fix it there and then smiles. It is probably the most genuine one he's seen on her face in months, and so he smiles too. "I think I've got some duct tape in my car," he suggests. "I could look."

Ally nods, still staring at the wet, leaky pipe. "Okay."

Because it's the only thing that seems right.

He goes out to the car, finds some in his backseat buried under gym clothes he hasn't washed in months, and comes back inside to her standing in the doorway of that room. She whirls around, like she forgot he was there, and he sees her trying to brush away tears. He doesn't say anything, and she looks at him. "Can we take a ride?" she asks.

They're on the road a few minutes later (after he puts some more duct tape on the leak) and he allows her to lead him wherever they're going. He's more than surprised when they show up at the cemetery. She kills the engine and takes in a shaky breath, turning to him and questioning him more with her eyes than he never knew was possible.

"I'm sorry. I should've told you where I wanted to go."

"It's okay," he says seriously. He'd probably follow her everywhere. It's sort of become a thing now.

"This is the only place I can still be close to him."

"I understand."

She smiles at that, not the one from before, and gets out of the car. They're walking a short distance then come to a shady part of the land. There is a large tree just off to the side, not too far from where she stops. Ally practically crumbles in front of a stone, and her fingers caress it with the softest touch. She peers up at him. She repeats the question from a few weeks back.

"Do you know what it's like to lose a part of you?"

Yes. I do. I really do, he internally answers, and externally just shakes his head. It's just not about him. Ally sighs, shaking her head too. She's remained strong up to now, and he gives her credit.

"He was more than my brother," she murmurs. "He was my twin. They say that's a special kind of connection. One that cannot be lost." She pauses, staring at his stone. Brett Dawson. The grass hasn't even grown back beneath her. "If that's true, why do I feel this way?"

He wishes he had an answer.

There are tears freely falling down her face again, and he feels useless.

Ally sobs, "I'm sorry."