The ship dropped off Dutch, Bill, Micah, Javier, and Arthur one by one along the coast to keep a low profile as they searched for the rest of the gang. Arthur was brought to Van Horn where he commandeered a horse and returned to Shady Belle. It was empty and looked like the gang had left in a hurry. He went into the house for a look around, finding a letter on the table addressed to an 'Uncle Tacitus' from 'Caroline', saying they were visiting relatives in Lakay. Arthur smiled to himself as he pocketed the letter and headed to the door when he heard voices outside.

"Milton keeps sending us back every day to search this place. There quite clearly isn't a gang of outlaws holed up here."

Arthur crept to the window and peered outside to see four Pinkertons had ridden up.

"Well someone is here," one of them dismounted and pointed at the ground, "Look, those are fresh footprints."

Arthur snuck out the side door before he could be spotted. At least the horse he 'borrowed' had the decency to wander off into the next field. He mounted up and hurried away.

He rode past the farm Grace and Tuula usually stayed at, but didn't see either of them. He continued along the road without stopping until he reached the swampy settlement.

He was greeted happily by Pearson and Abigail outside, and the others in the main building. They seemed to be all there, safe and sound, apart from Molly, but she always preferred to be alone away from the others. Micah and Javier had already arrived earlier that day. Arthur was quickly given a dish of stew which he ate eagerly.

Shortly afterward, Dutch arrived to the joy and relief of everyone. Abigail rushed up to him.

"Dutch, they got John," she pleaded.

"Okay, okay," he said then to turned to the others. "How did you all get here?"

"It was Mrs. Adler who got us to pack up," Strauss said, "She got us away from the camp before the Pinkertons turned up."

"After Grace had rode in to tell me to," Sadie added.

"Grace?" Arthur asked, surprised.

"Rode in like the devil was on her tail, told me to get everyone the hell out of there and to come here," Sadie said.

"And when we got here, Hosea was waiting for us," Tilly added.

"Hosea? He... he survived? Where is he?" Dutch demanded.

The others went quiet.

"He didn't make it, Dutch," Miss Grimshaw said solemnly, "His old heart couldn't take it anymore and he passed peacefully with all of us around him."

"Damn it," Dutch wiped his face, "Damn them."

"What about Grace?" asked Arthur.

"She wasn't here when we arrived and Hosea said she was hurt badly," said Sadie, "She told him we'd be here soon and she left. We must've missed her by only a few minutes."

"I tried tracking her, but lost her trail in the river," said Charles.

"But we saw both of them get shot," said Dutch.

"Only Grace was shot. Hosea said she told him to pretend to be dead and they made their escape when it was clear," said Abigail, "We stole Lenny's body from the morgue and we buried them together."

"Almost wish we coulda seen the look on those Pinkertons when they went back for the bodies to find 'em gone," Uncle laughed.

Arthur stayed quiet. Even after he yelled at her for lying to him, she still came back to help them and got shot doing so. Could she really still be alive? It had been on his mind ever since Guarma. His thoughts were interrupted when the door burst open again.

"Well here you is!" Bill said angrily, "I asked everyone I could find and eventually someone knew and said you fools were out here! Shit, gimme a drink or something!"

"Get your own damn drink!" Sadie retorted.

"In our absence, Mrs. Adler here has been looking after things," Dutch told Bill as he handed him a cup of coffee. Before he could speak further, they heard a commotion outside.

"This is Agent Milton of the Pinkerton Detective Agency!"

They peered out the window and saw a large group of Pinkertons and one with a large gatling gun on the back of a wagon outside.

"On behalf of Cornwall Kerosene and Tar, the United States government, and the Commonwealth of West Elizabeth, we are here to arrest you! Come out with your hands up!"

Arthur looked over at Dutch who had already taken out his guns. They shrugged at each other, getting ready for another gunfight with this annoying asshole. A moment later, the Pinkertons began shooting. The gang hit the floor as the wooden shack began splintering around them.

Sadie yelled for Arthur to follow her out the back and then informed him one of the neighbouring shacks had a trapdoor which they could sneak around and climb through to flank the Pinkertons.

Soon they were able to push them back and make them retreat. Arthur looked around at the bodies and was disappointed none of them were Milton. Slimy bastard got away again.

"Well what do we do now, Dutch?" Arthur coughed.

"Clearly we need to leave. It'll take some time for them to regroup, but we better be long gone before then," Dutch turned to the others who had gathered outside, "Mr. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, start packing up. We need some time, I just... I need some time. We can't go east, otherwise we'll be in the ocean, so we're gonna have to go north, I guess?"

"What about John?" Abigail asked desperately.

"John?"

"He's in jail."

"We'll get him, just not right now," Dutch tried to reassure her.

"There's talk of hanging him!"

"It's not gonna come to that," Dutch waved her away and returned to the shack.

Abigail turned to Arthur and Sadie. "I'm begging you two, they're gonna hang him. It would break my... the boy's heart."

"We will," Sadie said. Abigail nodded her thanks and left. "Okay, I'm gonna figure out how we rescue this bastard."

"Now?"

"Of course now," she frowned, "Or, at least as soon as we can. He's at Sisika working on a chain gang, I know that." She paused. "Don't suppose you'd know where to find Grace? Or find out what happened to her?"

"I don't know," he shook his head, "She ain't what she seemed to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I guess I don't know that either," he coughed, "But I need to get some rest."


The following morning, after attempting to rest but not able to do so because he was too anxious, Arthur found Dutch sitting on the porch behind one of the old shacks.

"So what now?"

"Now, I'm working it all out, once and for all, Arthur," Dutch said, staring out into the swamps, "There is country in Roanoke Ridge, past Butcher Creek I believe we could hold."

"Up there? You sure?" he asked, remembering his near run-in with the Murfree Brood when he was with Grace.

"You and Charles, take folks up that way," Dutch replied, "Micah and I need to do some reconnaissance. I ain't got a final plan yet. I just need time."

Arthur nodded and left to find Charles. Things were looking worse and he had a sinking feeling it was going to get worse. He couldn't help feeling like Dutch was becoming more unbalanced, but what was he to do about it? At the very least, he could help keep the others safe.

Charles knew the area Dutch wanted them to go and warned Arthur about it.

"I know, but maybe the law won't be so willing to come looking for us up there."

"You got a point."

They mounted their horses and rode out of Lakay. Charles suggested taking some canoes up the river up to Butcher Creek, but Arthur opted to stick with riding. He was still feeling sore and sick but he didn't want to let on that he wasn't up for the job.

"This was where I lost Grace's trail," Charles said as they rode across the bridge of the river, "I thought she might have fallen in and I rode up and down trying to find her or tracks leading out, but I didn't."

"Well, thanks for trying," Arthur sighed. What happened to her? Where was she now?

"What happened between you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you weren't exactly happy that morning when you two left the day before the bank job. And then you came back alone and angry, and Sadie said she saw you burning a photograph out back."

"It's... well, I suppose it's a long story."

"We've got a long ride."

"Let's just say she ain't what I thought she was."

"What does that mean?"

Arthur paused, wondering if he should tell Charles. "She lied to me."

"What about?"

"About... everything! Dutch had Trelawny look into her past and he found out that the only Grace Bellerose from New York City died in 1800."

"Huh."

"And you know what she told me? Said she really was that Grace Bellerose from all those years ago, but she apparently can't die, or stay dead or whatever it is." He sighed. "So I don't know who she really is, or what her plan is."

"Huh." Charles paused for a moment. "But what if it's true?"

"Don't tell me you believe that," Arthur scoffed.

"I don't know, but seeing as she was shot in Saint Denis and still somehow managed to get Hosea to Lakay. Anyone else would've died and stayed dead."

"I don't know," Arthur sighed. He didn't know what to think of the whole situation with Grace. It should be impossible, but maybe... maybe there really was a chance she wasn't actually dead.

"I suppose there's only one way to find out," Charles said after a few moments.

"And what's that?"

"Find her. If she's telling the truth, then she'll still be alive somewhere. If not, then I guess you'll be finding her grave."

Arthur thought about it the rest of the ride. He could look for her once they relocated the gang, see if she was up at her cabin or go back to the farm and ask Mr. Coyle if he had seen Grace recently. And if she was still alive, then what?

He couldn't think of it much longer because they had arrived close to the Murfrees' main hideout. They dismounted and continued on foot.

After he and Charles cleared out the cave, Arthur now understood why Grace was so terrified of them. Upon arriving at the cave, they saw the skinned and dismembered body of a man displayed outside. More dead bodies inside. And one girl, still alive, and severely traumatized.

Arthur brought the girl home to Annesburg while Charles cleaned up the place before riding back to the gang to bring them in.


Molly ratted us out. Dutch broke her heart so she told the law about us.

Explains how they found us so easily, I guess. Love does strange things to us all, even stranger than hate.

She turned up drunk and mouthy and told us all this. She was so pathetic I wanted to spare her, but Miss Grimshaw put a bullet in her anyway.

Guess it was right. Guess there weren't much of a choice.

I'm just glad it weren't Grace who told, as some seem to think.


Met Sadie who introduced me to Arturo, an odd man with a hot air balloon. She had the idea to get a look from above into Sisika to see if John was still there. Have to say it did work since I saw John in the fields before they started shooting at us.

Then we saw Sadie being chased by O'Driscolls and Arturo got shot. Poor bastard. We crashed the balloon and shot all the O'Driscolls, seems Sadie went out hunting for them. She won't rest until every damn one of them is dead.


"So, I'll get us a boat and we'll go get John," Sadie said after whistling for her horse, "You gonna look for Grace soon or what?"

"Why?"

"Because you've been a grouchy ol' bastard and you ain't gonna be any use unless you find her."

"And if she's dead?"

"Then I guess you'll know for sure," Sadie mounted her horse, "Besides, we want to know too. Just don't take too long. Still gotta get John out of Sisika."

Arthur shook his head and watched Sadie ride away. He supposed she was right. Maybe he'll head into Saint Denis and get himself cleaned up a bit before trying to find her.

He stopped at the farm on the way to the city.

"You seen Miss Bellerose lately?" he asked Mr. Coyle, who was leaning against the fence of one of the paddocks.

"No, not since she was here with you," Mr. Coyle frowned, "She missing?"

"Not really, just... I've been away and haven't seen her in a while."

"Oh, okay. Well, tell her we say hi when you find her."

"Sure."

Arthur rode into the city, wondering where to go next to find her, but he was suddenly overcome by a pain in his lungs. He began coughing, unable to stop. He couldn't breathe. Lightheaded and desperate to stop coughing, he fell off his horse and onto the road. His vision became more blurry and blacked out.

"Oh my god, Arthur!"

He opened his eyes and saw Grace looking down at him, worried.

"Grace," he gasped for air and reached for her.

"I ain't Grace, mister, are you okay?" Her voice suddenly sounded deeper.

Arthur blinked a few times and instead of Grace, saw a man with a moustache standing over him. Arthur tried to reply, but had another coughing fit.

"You don't look so good, mister," the man helped him up, "Let's get you to a doctor." Arthur followed the man to the doctor's office, stumbling in through the door.


Turns out, I'm not very well. Got tuberculosis. Doctor did not know how long I would last. All them bullets shot at me, all them horses threw me, all them fights and it was beating up that pathetic little fella Downes that killed me, I reckon. He's the only man I been near was real sick. He begged for mercy and I beat the bastard and he died. And now I'm dying too. The way of the world.


He felt numb. He couldn't go back to camp or go meet Sadie. Not yet. There was only one place he wanted to be right then.

By the time he rode up to Grace's cabin, the sun was low in the sky, stretching the shadows of the trees far across the grass. The cabin stood empty and dark. Nevertheless, Arthur dismounted, walked up to the door and knocked.

No answer.

He opened the door slowly, hoping he wasn't about to find her corpse, but there was no one. It looked like no one had been here in a while. He went in and ran his hand across her desk, leaving his finger marks in the thin layer of dust.

He lit a lantern then picked up the photograph of themselves laughing which she kept on her desk. God, he would give anything to hear her laugh again, to see her again. He regretted destroying his own picture of the two of them.

Then he realised it wasn't the only picture he had. He dug into his satchel and took out the print Albert Mason had given him, the one of himself and Grace kissing in Saint Denis. Despite everything, he still loved her, fool that he was. He wondered if he would ever find out the truth about her, who she really was.

He just wanted to see her again.

The door suddenly flew open and there she was. A wave of emotions ran through him at the sight of Grace, standing there alive and well, and he suddenly became overwhelmed with everything that had happened - the failed bank robbery, Lenny and Hosea's deaths, shipwrecked in Guarma, moving camp yet again, John's imprisonment, Molly's confession and death, his illness, and... her. He collapsed into a chair and broke down. Grace ran to him and held him tightly as he wept into her shoulder.

He began to cough, sputtering blood onto her shirt, and pushed her away. He tried to stop, but it was too much, he couldn't breathe. She placed her hands gently on either side of his face.

"Shh," she said quietly, "It's okay." Her voice and touch were comforting and her blue eyes looked deep into his own and he immediately felt calmer. He felt his chest expand as he was finally able to breathe again, if only a little.

"Grace," he wheezed, but she shook her head.

"It's okay, just breathe," she said with a small smile before pulling her hands away from his face. She tossed some logs into the fireplace and within the stove, started up a fire in each, then grabbed the kettle and went outside.

Arthur couldn't believe it. She was alive, and she looked like nothing had happened to her at all. Or was she just another hallucination? After all, he could touch and feel the one in Guarma. He hoped to whatever deity might be listening that this wasn't an illusion, that she was real.

She returned with the kettle, placed it on the stove, then searched her shelves of jars until she found what she was looking for. She set a couple of jars on the table and turned back to the fireplace.

He coughed and tried to clear his throat. "Are you really here?" he asked hoarsely.

She turned back to him, looking confused. "Um, yes? Pretty sure I'm here," she patted herself as if to make sure.

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For all them things I said, and for yelling at you."

"You don't need to apologise for that," she gave him a small smile, "I wouldn't have believed me either." She paused. "I assume you still don't."

"I don't know."

"I understand," she turned away and crouched near the fireplace but he couldn't see what she was doing, "I mean, it is pretty hard to believe, having someone tell you that they can resurrect from the dead like goddamn Lazarus. Pretty crazy, if you ask me." She stood again, holding a teapot with a cloth and set it on the table.

"But apparently you do." He watched her spoon the ingredients from the jars into the teapot. "So you were really shot when you saved Hosea?" She nodded. "He... he didn't make it."

"I'm so sorry," she said sadly, "He didn't seem too well when I brought him to Lakay."

"Lenny was shot too."

"Shit, really?" Arthur nodded. "Jesus. He was very nice to me in camp." She paused sadly. "Anyone else?"

"Molly."

"Molly?" she looked confused, "But she wasn't at the bank."

"No, it was just a few days ago," he scoffed in disbelief, "Did you know it was her who ratted us out to the Pinkertons?"

"She couldn't have."

"She said she did. Uncle found her drunk and brought her back and she said she told the Pinkertons everything. Then Miss Grimshaw shot her."

Grace was quiet. "I don't think she told."

"How do you know?"

"Because she left camp the night before the bank robbery and I met her in town. She was very distraught, still hung up on Dutch. I told her to just move on. I gave her money and told her to go somewhere else, find someone worth her time and love. I was with her until the following morning when we saw all the Pinkertons arriving in Saint Denis. I got her on a train to Rhodes, just to get her out of the city, and promised to meet up with her later. I rode to Shady Belle to warn you, but you had all left, so I told Sadie to get everyone out before I went back to the city."

"So, maybe she didn't tell."

"Not unless she somehow did it before I saw her in Saint Denis, but I don't think she did." She picked up the kettle from the stove and poured the boiling water into the teapot.

"Damn." Arthur tried to suppress another cough, but it was in vain as he coughed so hard his chest hurt.

"How sick are you?" she asked quietly, placing the kettle back on the stove.

"I... I got TB," he said, not looking at her.

"It's bad, isn't it?"

He nodded, looking down at his hands. "Doctor said I don't have long."

Grace burst into tears. Arthur stood and rounded the table to her, taking her in his arms.

"It's not fair," she cried into his shoulder.

"Ain't like I ever had any good coming to me anyhow," he said.

"Don't say that, Arthur."

"Well I don't know if you noticed, but I ain't a good man," he said angrily as he stepped away from her, "I killed and robbed a lot of people, and I expect I'll end up in eternal damnation."

"But-"

"It was that man, Thomas Downes. He was real sick when I went after him for the debt. I good as killed him and forced his widow into selling herself to get by. I ain't got no good in me, not like that Downes fella."

"You could make it right," she said quietly.

"How, by making Thomas Downes just come back to life?" Arthur scoffed.

"Help Mrs. Downes and her son."

"Why don't you help them, with all that money you got stashed away?"

"It's not about me, this is about you," she looked up at him, frowning, "I can give them money, yes, but it's not the answer."

"Then why the hell were you always offering to give us money to get away?"

"To give you a chance to be happy! If you had just taken the money when I first offered it, you could've all gotten away a long time ago. But whether or not you'd be living free or just continuing robbing people would've been up to you." She sighed and wiped the tears off her face. "Anyway, here." She poured some tea from the teapot into a cup and handed it to him. "It'll help a little with the coughing. And then you should rest."

"Thanks," he sat down at the table and took a sip. It tasted bitter, but it soothed the pain in his throat a little. "Can't you do something?"

"About what?"

"About this," he pointed at himself, "About my tuberculosis."

"No."

"Well you was a nurse, weren't you?" he raised his voice.

"I was a war nurse. I primarily tended to gunshot wounds and amputations, not illnesses. Those who were sick we kept comfortable until they..." She stopped. "I'm sorry, Arthur, but I can't make you better."

He sighed. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too."

Grace looked at him for a few moments before leaving to go outside. He quickly drank the rest of the tea so he could follow her outside, but the door opened again and she dragged the tin bath inside. She moved the table back with Arthur's help then dragged the bath in front of the fireplace.

"I thought you only bathed outside," said Arthur.

"This is for you," she said with a smile, "You look and smell like you haven't bathed in weeks, and I figure you'd prefer to bathe inside."

"Heh, well you ain't wrong there."

She smiled at him then picked up a pot near the stove and headed back outside. She returned with not only the pot filled with water but also a bucket filled with water. She placed the pot on the stove before dumping the bucket into the bath and returned outside. When the bath was filled enough, she dumped the pot of now hot water into the bath to warm it up, then moved a chair next to it and set down a bar of soap, a razor, and a towel.

"Thanks," he stood up and moved towards her.

"I can wait outside, if you want."

"No," he reached out to take her hand, "Stay."

She nodded and helped him undress before he stepped into the hot water. It was a relief to his aching body as he slowly sat down and leaned back, closing his eyes. He lay there for a few moments before opening his eyes. She was sitting at her desk with her back to him, presumably to let him wash up with some privacy.

He picked up the soap and slowly lathered it up, but kept looking over at her, wondering what she was thinking.

"What happened to you?" she asked without looking at him.

Arthur told her about the failed bank robbery and escaping on the ship. "And then the ship caught fire in the storm. I got separated from the others and I tried to get out, and then I saw you."

"Me?" she looked over at him, confused. "What do you mean you saw me?"

"I was trying to find a way out and you just appeared in a door that led to a way out."

"Well, I haven't been on any ships recently, sinking or otherwise."

"I saw you again when I ended up on the shore of Guarma."

"You ended up there? Jesus. But what do you mean you saw me again? I was never there."

"Yeah, that's what you kept saying. I mean, the you that was there said I was hallucinating."

"You probably were."

"But I could touch you, and I saw you again and you, well, the one that was there said it was because I needed you."

"Huh. So maybe- Never mind. What happened on Guarma?"

"Maybe what?"

Grace paused before speaking. "Well, as you've seen, I become sick after each time I die but it usually only lasts a few days. But this time, I was terribly ill for a long time."

"What happened after you left Hosea?"

"Well, I died, and when I came back, I was so sick. I tried to get back here so I could rest it out, but it was so bad." She leaned against the back of her chair. "But you remember that boy we rescued from the Rhodes gunsmith? Well, he and his family found me and took me in. They called a doctor for me, but he couldn't do anything."

"I suppose not," Arthur couldn't help but smile slightly.

"They said I kept mumbling but they didn't know what I was saying, and I was running an awful fever that wouldn't go away." She frowned slightly. "I don't remember much, but I remember hearing you."

"You did?"

She nodded. "I don't know, it was like I could hear your voice but I couldn't understand what you were saying."

Arthur leaned forward, looking down at the soap in his hand. He wasn't sure what to say. Grace moved to the chair next to him, took the soap from him and started to wash his back. God, he missed actually feeling her touch.

"So what else happened in Guarma?" she asked.

He told her about the rebels, being tortured, taking out the warship, and killing Fussar.

"Jesus, how the hell did you survive all of that?"

"I suppose you helped," he looked up at her, "Or at least, your image or hallucination or whatever it was."

"Oh my god." She stopped washing his back. "I'm glad you made it out of there."

"I'm glad you're okay too." He looked at the soap she was holding out to him. "You ain't gonna finish?"

"Pretty sure you're capable," she raised her eyebrows at him.

He smiled up at her, then leaned back and stretched out his arm. Grace laughed a little, shook her head, then continued to bathe him. "You're lucky I still like you."

"Wasn't this part of your nurse duties?"

"No. Anyone who required bathing back then were bathed by the older women, mainly to make sure the virile young soldiers behaved themselves," she tittered.

"So you was a nurse during that big war? The one with that old battlefield?"

She nodded.

"What was it like?"

She paused before replying. "Another time," she said with a hint of sadness. "Why don't you finish washing up and I'll go make sure the horses are settled."

"Sure."

She handed the soap back to him and left the cabin. He finished bathing, dressed, and was shaving when she returned. He still wasn't sure about her supposed immortality, but he supposed it made some sense, even if he didn't understand.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. He nodded and she went back outside. She returned a moment later with a small sack. She opened a tin of beans and placed them in a cast iron pan, then added some pieces of meat from the sack. Then she added some different ingredients from her shelves, put a lid on the pan and placed it on the stove.

While it cooked, she began emptying out the bath with the bucket. He watched as she carried each full bucket of water outside until the bath was empty enough to be dragged outside. He stood to pull it outside for her, even though he ended up being out of breath after doing so.

"You okay?" she asked as he slumped over to catch his breath.

"Yeah, just... give me a moment."

"I would've been fine doing it myself, you know."

"I know, but-"

"I appreciate the help. Really, but I am capable."

"I suppose."

"Anyway, it'll be a little bit before it's ready so I'm going to clean up out here."

Arthur nodded and returned to the cabin so he could sit and rest for a bit and to give her a bit of solitude. After a little bit, he went back outside to see she was in the bath with one leg resting on the rim, smoking a cigarette, and staring up at the sky. Arthur picked up a chair from beside the door and placed it next to her. She looked over at him curiously.

"There's no meteor shower tonight," she said with a slight smile.

"You're always looking at the sky."

"I like it. Makes you wonder if there's anything else out there. Like, maybe there's another planet far out there and someone's looking at the same stars and wondering the same thing."

Arthur was about to speak when he started coughing. At least it wasn't as bad as before. "Heh, too bad you can't make me like you, not being able to die or whatever it is."

Grace frowned. "Even if I could, I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not a very good way to live."

"But you seem to be doing fine, what with all your travelling."

"I have no choice," she sat up, flicked her cigarette butt away, and turned to him, "I can't stay in one spot for too long because everyone else gets older and I stay the same. I have outlived and will outlive everyone I ever meet and love. That's why I told you we couldn't be together."

"But you still... I mean, we still..."

Grace sighed and crossed her arms on the edge of the bath, resting her chin on them. "I didn't mean to. I kept worrying about when or how to tell you that it wouldn't last."

"You kept saying I'd leave you."

"And you did. I figured you'd choose the gang over me, or you'd get yourself killed doing something stupid."

"Heh, like robbing a bank and getting shipwrecked?"

"And you're still here."

"Not for long." Arthur leaned forward on his knees, looking down at his hands. "I still love you."

"Even after everything?"

"Yeah."

"I still love you too," she smiled over at him.

"So, can you get sick? I mean, you can't catch any illnesses or anything?" Grace shook her head. "Good." He knelt down beside the bath and kissed her. She grasped his shirt collar and kissed him back. When they parted, she had tears in her eyes.

"I missed you."

"Me too," Arthur kissed her again.

"I'm going to finish washing up. Why don't you go in and I'll be there shortly."

"I'll be waiting," he kissed her hand then stood and headed back to the cabin.

"You need to rest!" she called after him.

"I can rest when I'm dead!" he joked, looking back to see her smile. He sat down at the table in the cabin, feeling a bit winded. Maybe she was right, he did need to rest. But he still felt a newfound energy, happy that Grace was still alive and happy that she wasn't angry with him, and especially happy that they could continue on together, however long it would last. Regardless of how long he had left, he was going to make the most of it.