I don't know what he would have wanted, in death. It wasn't something we talked about, even though it was a prominant part of our lives. I don't think it mattered too much to him, where he was buried. Once he was dead, he was dead, as far as he was concerned. So I dug his grave in the spot where we had last been together, a sign that it was where his life had ended. His body was heavy, a dead weight, still warm but so still. The contrast was sharp and it stung; in life, his body would have been humming with tension, strung tight and ready for whatever.

I had to dig the grave with Hyperion; I couldn't bear to touch Lionheart. Oddly, that might have bothered him more, that I disrespected his blade. But, as I thought, distractedly, he wouldn't mind. He wasn't ever going to use that gunblade again.

I thought about suicide. Dying. Following him. Following him where, though? At the side of that hole, not a grave worthy of the man I loved, I decided I would never see him again. Now, I'm not sure, but standing there, I felt so alone. I considered laying down in that hole I'd dug, with him, and closing my eyes, never to wake again. But if I did that, carrion birds would eat his body and I didn't want that.

I deepened the grave; making it a wound in the earth, but it didn't go deep enough to be truly symbolic of how I felt. I gave up.

I didn't kiss him goodbye; I'd done that while he was still warm, his body still pulsing with life. I wrapped my arms around his completely still body and grieved for a while; I cried over him, for the first and only time, and I'm sure the salt of my tears mixed with the blood from his wounds. If he was alive, it would have stung him badly; there were a lot of tears, and a lot of salt. But he was dead, so it didn't matter.

I dragged him into the hole. I put Hyperion into his hands, cleaning it first. He looked like a real knight, happy, content in death. Not a mockery, as he had been at the sorceress's side He smiled, as I killed him, and that look remained. He looked more at peace than he ever had in life, even when sleeping.

I took my necklace off, the heavy pendant clunking dully against the metal of Hyperion as I dropped it in, so if there was another life, he would have a part of me to take with him. Partly so he wouldn't be left as alone as I was.

I felt truly disconnected from the world then. I covered his body with the dirt and cut turf to cover the place, so that people wouldn't disrespect his body.

I don't know how long it took me to go back to Garden, but it didn't really matter where I was. I had to carry on. Wherever I was, he wasn't, and I had to live with it. In a way, by not taking my life that day, I was punishing myself for what I had to do.

Even hell would probably have been kinder than what I inflicted upon myself.