100. Wow. When I posted the first conversation, I figured I'd get a few reviews, and I might be able to write a few of them. I never imagined I'd reach such a milestone. Many thanks to all of you who've been with me since the beginning, to those that've joined along the way, and to anyone who's popped in and out occasionally. You've all been so incredibly kind.

I owe Shadpup and Annber03 serious kudos for putting up with my fretting and rambling, and of course for providing such valuable feedback and support along the way.

Fair warning: this one is...heavy. We're jumping back in with Tegan for it.

Happy reading.

"There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief." – Aeschylus

I stand on the deck at the back of the house, my feet rooted to the spot. My mind is a broken record, and all I can hear is my own voice whispering "no" over and over again, the echoes growing louder as they bounce around inside my head. I don't want to do this. I shouldn't be doing this. I can't do this. I can't. It's too much and I can't do this. But I have to.

I shake my head to try and banish the onslaught of emotion I can feel edging closer and closer. I blink furiously to try and hold back the tears that had come suddenly and hadn't yet left. I bite my lower lip to try and contain it all, but I can feel the cracks forming, and the emotion is pushing against all the careful barriers I'd put up.

My breaths come quicker as I slam my eyes shut in frustration. I shouldn't be doing this. I can't do this.

The silence in my childhood home is deafening. It had always had a hum of activity, even when it was just me in the house. There was life in it, and it brought a sense of comfort. But now it's just impossibly quiet. And it's the loudest quiet I've ever heard.

I try desperately to keep my mind from drifting to yesterday. I try to think of something – anything – but that, because I know if I do, I'll break. And I can't break. I can't.

My steps are hesitant as I make my way toward the back of the property. As I get closer, I can feel the painful lack of her presence. By the time I'm at the swing, it feels fundamentally wrong for me to be here. I ghost my fingers over the wood and find my gaze drawn to every tiny detail in an effort to delay the inevitable.

My heart clenches painfully when I realize she isn't here. And she never will be again. She's gone. Forever.

I let out a strangled yell of frustration and grief at that fact. It just isn't fair. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to her. I wasn't ready to not be a daughter anymore.

My breaths come too quickly, and are far too shallow. I feel the grief overwhelming me, but it isn't the only emotion bubbling over. I'm also overwhelmingly angry with her. I hate her for leaving me. There's so much I want to say to her, so much she was supposed to see and do before her time on this earth ran out. She'll never see me get married. She'll never tell me about those never-talked about years before she worked in the FBI. I'll never get to watch her read to my children, or hear her tell them about what I was like when I was their age.

I feel an inexplicable sense of being abandoned and I scream out in frustration, "I HATE YOU!" But immediately after the words escape my mouth, I feel sick. I didn't hate her. I never had, and I never could. She didn't deserve the anger I'd directed at her.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, suddenly feeling my legs give out from under me. I collapse onto the ground and feel everything begin to pour out of me. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry," I repeat, hoping she can hear me. "I love you."

I don't know how to be motherless. I don't know how to function in a world without both of my parents. Everything feels wrong, and disjointed, and like it's not quite working how it's supposed to. How do you go on living when the people who gave you life don't exist anymore?

"I don't know how to do this," I say brokenly, sobs wracking my body. "I need you, Mom."

I feel like an intruder in our own spot. We'd spent countless hours here over the years, mending our broken hearts, having deep discussions, and sometimes just enjoying each other's company as we watched the sky. But now it just feels like I shouldn't be here. If I'm not here with her, then I shouldn't be here at all.

"Please," I whisper. "Please, Mom. I can't do this. I need you."

"Hey, you," Mom says, a warm smile on her face. It's genuine, but it doesn't reach her eyes like it used to. Not since Dad died.

"Hey," I reply, flashing her a smile of my own. "Everyone gone home?"

"Yeah, Matthew and Megan just left with the kids, so it's just you and me," she says as she slowly eases herself onto the swing beside me and spreads the blanket over us.

"You okay?" I ask in concern, noticing her slow movement and hearing the soft groans that accompany it.

"Fine," she says, waving off my concern with a hand. "Just not as young as I used to be is all."

"You sure?"

"Quit fussing over me, Tegan. I'm fine."

"Sorry," I apologize. "Can't help it. You're my mom, and I like having you around."

Her expression shifts to a sad smile that has me wondering what she's not telling me.

"So," I begin, breaking the silence that had taken hold, "80 years on the planet. What're the lows and the highs?"

She lets out a soft chuckle. "I think it goes without saying that you and your brother are high on my list of highlights."

"Obviously," I say with a laugh. "But what else?"

"Falling in love with your father," she says, and all I can hear is a sense of longing and bittersweet emotion in her voice. "Seeing Declan grow up into such a wonderful man. My friends... Knowing I made a difference in people's lives."

"You've had it pretty good," I comment.

"Definitely," she agrees. "I can't complain."

"Any regrets?"

"There was this boy I knew when I was 15-"

"A boyfriend?" I interrupt.

"No, no, he was just a friend. But he and I went through some dark stuff together, and I wish I'd done more to help him after. We lost touch, and it wasn't until years later when I found out he'd died, that I really realized how much I'd let him down."

"Mom," I say sadly. "Surely it wasn't your-"

"No, I know it wasn't my wholly fault. But I was a contributing factor."

"Who was it?"

She lets out a heavy sigh. "Your brother is named after him, actually."

"Matthew?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd you name Matty after him?"

"He was incredibly important to me – he made me feel worthy of love and friendship in a time when I didn't feel I was worthy of anything. And he helped me through one of the most difficult things I've ever gone through."

"What was it?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"That's a story for another day, I think." I nod in understanding. Message received – leave it alone.

"Okay. What else ya got?"

"I did some things I'm not proud of over the course of my career," she answers vaguely. "And before you ask, no I'm not giving you details. And don't go poking around in old case files either," she warns.

I grin sheepishly. That had been my exact plan, but she didn't say anything about personnel files… Come to think of it, I'm not sure why I hadn't tried to pull hers and Dad's files years ago. "Anything else?"

She thinks for a moment before answering. "My relationship with my mother. She and I were at odds for so many years… I threw away all that time with her because I was angry. It wasn't until after she was gone that I really realized how much I wanted that time back."

"But you two buried the hatchet, didn't you?"

"Yes, but sometimes it feels like it was too little, too late."

"You and Grandma always seemed close," I offer.

"We mended our relationship a few years before you were born, but before that…" she lets out a sad sigh. "I wish I could get that time back."

That had been the last time we'd sat here together. I'd curled up next to her, resting my head on her shoulder just as I'd always done. She'd tucked the blanket around us tightly, and held me as the swing moved gently back and forth.

I feel a fresh wave of sobs rise as I realize I'll never have that again. I'll never again feel the comfort her embrace always brought me. I'll never be able to lean into her and feel her wrap her arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer to her.

I remember the first time we'd sat on the swing together. She'd come home from a particularly rough case with Cooper's team and I remember noticing how sad she looked. I'd tried to cheer her up, but she'd just smiled half-heartedly, and then disappeared after dinner. I looked everywhere for her, and finally saw that she'd wandered down to the swing near the edge of the property. I opened the back door to join her, but was greeted immediately by cold air. I dashed back inside to grab the blanket from the couch and dragged it behind me as I made my way across the yard toward her.

"Hi," I say unsurely, shifting nervously.

"Tegan," she says softly. "What are you doing out here? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"You're sad," I explain. "I can make you not sad anymore."

She lets out a half-hearted laugh. "Well come on up then," she says, patting the space beside her.

I climb up and then offer her half of the blanket, but she scoops me up and puts me on her lap and wraps it tightly around us both.

"Why you sad, Mama?"

"Work was sad this week," she explains.

"Why?" I ask, my brow furrowing.

"There was a bad man who was hurting people, and it took us awhile to catch him."

"But you gots him?"

"Yes, we got him."

"That's good."

"I suppose it is," she says as though that fact had just occurred to her.

"Stars are pretty," I say, after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes, they are. Your great-grandfather and I used to spend hours looking at them."

"Really?"

"Yep. He taught me all the constellations, and showed me one special asterism that I could look at when I was felt lonely."

"Why?"

"Because I could look up at the night sky and find the asterism, and because we both loved the stars, I knew he'd be looking at it too."

"Where is it?! I wanna know. Then when you're at work, we can be together still."

"All right," she agrees and holds my hand as she points out the stars marking out the shape. "It's called the Big Dipper, because it looks like a big spoon."

"I see it!" I say in excitement. "I see it!"

"Well now we can stargaze together when I'm away at work."

"Yeah!"

It had been the first of many conversations held there. We'd talked about anything and everything there – boys, back-stabbing friends, career aspirations, horrible movies, fantastic books, my collection of crazy aunts and uncles… As we spent more and more time there, it soon because "our thing" and by the time I was 7, it was established that if one of us was having a bad day, we'd curl up there and swing our troubles away.

But this was one trouble I couldn't swing away. This was one thing we couldn't make sense of with a chat.

"Hello?" she answers after a few rings.

"Hey, Mom. It's Tegan."

"Tegan," she says warmly. I can hear the smile in her voice. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good. How are you?"

"Oh, not too bad. The ol' body creaks and groans more than the house these days though."

"Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this…"

"Careful now, Tee," she warns.

I let out a chuckle. "Quit denying it, Mom. Embrace it! No one else can get away with yelling at random strangers and not be arrested for it."

"Is that what you think I do all day?"

"What do you do all day?"

"This and that," she answers vaguely with a laugh. "But enough about me, my life is boring. What's new with you?"

"Uh, not a whole lot. We're wrapping up another big case at work."

"Yeah? How much credit should I be giving you when I brag about you to all my fellow bingo players?"

"Bingo? Really, Mom?"

"You think I'd play bingo? And here I thought you were an FBI agent. In my day they taught us Bureau employees how to sniff out the bullshit."

"And you walked uphill both ways to school, right?"

"No, we had a driver. Walking was beneath me," she quips, and I can't help but laugh.

"To answer your question, you can give me a good chunk, but not all of the credit."

"That's my girl. So nothing else to report?"

"Not really," I say before biting my lip. I'd called her with every intention of telling her…and asking for advice, but now that the time had come my nerve had disappeared.

"Tee?"

"Yeah?"

"I can hear the gears grinding in your head all the way over here. What's up, little Boo Radley?" she asks, using my old nickname. I smile at the endearment – she'd bestowed it upon me when I was a toddler thanks to my shy and withdrawn behaviour, and it had stuck.

"Lincoln wants me to move in with him," I blurt out.

"And you're freaked out," she says. It's not a question, but a statement, and a testament to how well she knows me.

"I'm not freaked out," I argue. "I'm just not really sure of what I want, or what I should do." I pause for a moment. "Mom, what should I do?"

She chuckles. "You actually expect me to answer that?"

"Right," I say drily. "I forgot you were the freaking guru when it comes to giving advice," I lament, recalling her frustrating tendency to refuse to tell me what I want to hear.

"I'm just saying, it's your life, Tee. It isn't my place to stick my nose in here."

"But I'm asking you to!"

"You really want to know what I think?"

"Yes!"

"I think if you string that boy along anymore, he's going to lose his mind."

"What d'you mean "string him along"?" I ask with a frown.

"Do you love him?"

"I…" I say slowly, stalling again. "Yes," I finally whisper.

"Then what's the hold up?"

"I don't know if I'm ready for that step."

"Why not?"

"I… Um…"

"That's what I thought. I think you're just scared of change."

"I am not."

"Says the woman who begged and pleaded with her parents not to sell the home she'd grown up in, even though it was far too big for just the two of them."

"Okay, so maybe I'm a little averse to change," I concede.

"There is such thing as good change, you know. I wouldn't have ended up with your father if not for embracing change."

"How did you know he was, you know, 'the one'?"

She pauses for a small moment before answering. "We'd spent years as friends and partners, and had gone through it all. By the time he asked me to move in with him, things just felt right. When he proposed, it just felt like things falling into place."

I stay quiet, thinking about how eerily similar that sounds to what Lincoln and I have. He and I had been through thick and thin – he'd pulled me up from the depths of depression after Dad died, and I'd helped him change for the better when we first met.

"Tegan, do you love him? And I mean really love him."

"Yes."

"Then give it a try. What's the worst that could happen? You break up? You've only done that a dozen times," she teases, trying to lighten the conversation. But I hear what she's trying to say: go ahead and jump into it, it's worth it.

"Maybe."

"Just think about it."

"It's all I've been thinking about!"

"I meant think about actually doing it, and not just the concept of it."

"I will," I say honestly. She had given me a lot to think about.

"Are we still on for lunch on Saturday?"

"Definitely," I agree readily. "I'll pick you up around 11:30, okay?"

"I'll be here," she says, and I can hear that smile in her voice again.

She wasn't there, and we hadn't gone for lunch. The news had come a few days after we chatted, and a day before we were scheduled to go for lunch. I never imagined that phone call would be the last time I spoke with my mother. If I'd known, there was so much more I would've said, so much more I'd have made sure to tell her. It had been such an everyday, run of the mill conversation – just one of hundreds like it that we'd had over the years – but I feel guilty that I hadn't said more.

I wish I'd told her how much I appreciated her and everything she'd done for me over the years. I wish I'd told her that I loved her. I wish I'd told her how much she means to me.

But I'll never get that chance now. I just hope she knew all of it, because god knows I did a shitty job of telling her. She'd gone so suddenly… If only I'd known…

"In her sleep?" I repeat his words as a question – as though to make sure I heard correctly.

"Yeah," Matty says. "She's lucky, I guess."

My hand moves quickly – too quickly for my brain to process the movement – and slaps him. "She's dead and you think she's lucky?! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Tegan," he says softly. "You know that's not how I meant it," he says sadly, and I feel my heart clench in grief and guilt. "I just meant – she wasn't withering away or stuck fighting some horrible disease."

I can't make any words form. I just blink as I stare at his reddening cheek and feel the tingle in my hand.

"Come stay with me," he says. "You shouldn't be alone."

"I'm fine," I say immediately. There's no way I'm going to be able to be around people, even if it's the only family I've got left. I feel my chest tighten further with that thought.

"Tee, come on."

"Do you think she felt any pain?" I ask abruptly.

Matty shakes his head confidently. "I don't think so. I think she just…fell asleep."

I blink rapidly again as his words echo in my mind. The reality of the situation isn't sinking in, and all I can think of is that quote from Harry Potter when Harry asks Sirius if dying hurts – 'Quicker and easier than falling asleep' Sirius had said. I wonder if that's how it was for Mom. Did she just fall asleep, and that was that?

"Why?" I whimper, my arms wrapped around my body as my stomach clenches painfully.

She'd always been there. And she'd always been this pillar of strength. She was unwavering in her support, her strength, her belief. She was the strongest person I'd ever known. I never questioned that she'd be there for me. I just knew she'd always be there to catch me.

But all of a sudden, she's not there, and I don't know how to live in a world without that unwavering strength, and love, and support. I'd give everything to just have another day with her. To be able to hug her again and feel that strength seep into my bones.

"I miss you, Mom," I whisper. "God, I miss you so much."

So...was the grief believable? Was it heart-breaking? Was it heavy enough for the occasion?

Some of you may be wondering if this was the final conversation for this story. While it would've been nice and neat to tie things up in #100, there are more conversations I want to write, and more characters I'd like to explore. And so, no, this isn't the final chapter of this story - you'll have at least a few more of these to (hopefully) enjoy.

'til next time... =)