Through ache and joy, through hurt and desire, through nothingness and fulfillment, through emptiness and purpose, through misery and hope, through defeat and triumphs, through problems and solutions, through failures and all the good things, Jesse had loved, and he knew that at the moment he gripped that sacred map rather warmly in the shivering hands of his. What was it about a map that made him feel this way? What about a map was so strong that it made him quiver? He knew what had to be done. Was it just to reach the satisfaction of the fulfillment of something long desired? Or had it all come from a place of the most exquisite, truest of loves? With a past such as his and with the hurt that he'd been through, there were secrets that he remained in the dark about, secrets that made him wonder and fade off into his thoughts, each linked to the other. Through all of it, there were two things that he held sacred – two people whom he'd loved rather dearly. All he could do was hang onto that sliver of hope, the same one that kept his world from crumbling down to the ground all around him – remains, ashes, flames. But in the end, was it – any of it – in his hands after all? Perhaps hope's the way, the right way, the only way. Perhaps that's how it's supposed to be. Perhaps love happens but once. Perhaps that's how it's supposed to be.