A/N: Epilogue for "to the beginning"; just to wrap everything up, tie up any loose ends, and to thank all my readers for keeping with me on this incredible 5 year journey for a story that I never thought would go for so long or end the way it did.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
The Lord bless him and keep him,
The Lord make His Face to shine upon him
And be gracious to him,
The Lord lift up His countenance upon him
And give him peace.

Amen.

The dirt is gently shoveled over the coffin, and when his turn comes he's not sure what to think or say (should he even say anything?) but he throws the dirt over his father's coffin anyway, all without a word and it moves on down the line.

They were never a religious family—neither his father nor his mother, despite the whole 'soul' and spirituality aspect of the e-genes. Churches were attended only out of politeness for some holiday or another, usually only when he visited his grandmum in England. And yet the words serve to soothe him now, to gentle the waves of grief he's not sure when he'll stop drowning in.

Maybe God, or whatever is up there in the great beyond, might decide that someone who embodied the essence of an abhorrent monster like Jack the Ripper isn't worthy of entrance to heaven, or the afterlife, or...whatever, but for now he wants to believe this God is as forgiving as the priest makes Him out to be. All the anger he held holds no sway now; no matter what his father did, he knows it wasn't for savage, mindless revenge, but because he couldn't stand to feel the pain anymore. He quietly wonders how it is he's been able to hold on, after the deaths of his sister and mother, and why his own father couldn't. Maybe it's his youth, maybe his father just suffered too many losses over the course of his life, or maybe it even was due to some still-unknown side effect of being an e-gene holder. Both Dogoo and Hunter admitted they may never fully understand all the inner workings of e-genes or why some holders reacted while others didn't; perhaps, in that sense he was simply unlucky.

Are you alright?

The words seem so far away, even though his grandmother is standing right next to him, concern lining her greying brows. He nods, not sure what else to say because he's already said everything he can think of; even then, words won't bring them back—won't change the present.

Let's get back home, then; London's getting rather cold for this time of the year.

He should, but before they can usher him into the vehicle he turns around, kneeling beside the freshly buried grave. A double-headstone, even though only his father is interred in London while both his mother and sister now lie at rest somewhere in Japan. No amount of pleading or reasoning with the other side of his family could convince his Japanese grandparents to place the family together. He can understand why; they lost their only daughter and then granddaughter, and from what he's gathered over the years, it seems they never quite got over the fact his mom chose a foreigner for her husband instead of a nice, Japanese man.

But they loved each other. I know that much.

The best compromise for now is a photograph, to spiritually represent the joining of two souls in the afterlife, after having been denied it in the world of the living for so many years. He can't help but stare at the photo, showing his parents right after they got married in a traditional Shinto ceremony (they look so young he thinks, more like this peers than parents) and a photo of his sister taken right after her 10th birthday. A small mountain of flowers and memorabilia surround the headstone, left by close friends and family who attended the funeral today. Tomorrow, DOGOO will allow the general public to come and pay their respects—and it is rumored the British Royal Family will also be making an appearance.

Why couldn't you have held on? Why did you have to go...did you really miss her that much? He knows there isn't any one person or thing to blame, but he wishes there were. The counselor assured him there's no right or wrong way to feel, that everybody processes grief and loss differently; yet it still feels wrong to blame the dead for things that are out of their control.

A gentle hand on his shoulder, and this time he nods and gets up to leave. For the time being he's living in London, but that could very well change. His father mentioned attending university before his death...and now, he thinks, maybe it's time to do just that. Maybe somewhere far away from everything, in some country he's never been to before—America, Chile, or even Australia. Maybe somewhere with a good swimming program, since it's a sport he's actually good at. Besides, even if he wanted to return to DOGOO (and he doesn't), the main base repairs won't be completed for another few months; Saint-Germain and the core group are temporarily operating out of the C. Forrester, crossing the seas from place to place as he did previously aboard the A. Logan.

Most of the attendees are heading back as well, all dressed in black and talking in hushed whispers even though there's really no need to be that quiet, he thinks. It might be they fear their words will hurt him; though honestly it feels nothing can shock him anymore, even if they are somewhat unsavory.

It's unfortunate, but that's what happens when you try to play God...

I always thought using souls of the deceased was a rather dodgy method, even to save the world...let the dead stay dead, I say. Especially someone like Jack the Ripper...

The whole organisation was founded by an alien, what did you expect?

God cursed them, that's what; I do hope nothing more happens to that poor lad. He's suffered more than enough.

And he hears nothing more as his grandmother firmly ushers him into the black limousine, shaking her head at the gossip. Pay them no mind; your parents only did what they felt was best for you.

Still, as they go home to a small cottage by the River Thames, he can't help but wonder if they're right. If God cursed them for being inhuman. For toying with powers and forces they didn't understand, even if it is to save the world.

He wonders if his blood is cursed, as well.