You guys. I cannot believe we're at the final chapter already.

This will probably be a long note because I have a lot of feelings, but if you want to skip all of that and get straight to the chapter, at least read this first part: I have put together a nice, pretty, DOWNLOADABLE version of the full fic for you all. You can download the story as a PDF and keep it forever. The link to download is in my profile and will be on my Tumblr shortly.

Also, I do have a couple of new fics in the pipeline (including a bit of Nightingale-verse Christmas fluff, because it hasn't been Christmas enough in this story), so if you're interested in that, please do follow me. New stuff will be up very soon.

Finally, I just want to give a huge thank you to everyone for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting this story. I've been working on it for over four years, and it has honestly been a huge comfort to me during a very hectic period of my life. It got me through my last year of college, a cross-country move, getting my first job, tons of excitement and change (both good and bad), developing severe anxiety, another cross-country move... yeah. During all of that, working on this story was like wrapping myself in a warm, cozy blanket. I was so excited to start sharing it, and it has meant so much to me to hear from you all as you've read it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

If you've enjoyed this story, let me know, and I'll see you again soon. Happy reading!

Christine sat down with a huff in the midst of what felt like a sea of partially packed boxes, allowing herself a moment to catch her breath. The weather was unusually hot for so early in the summer—graduation had only been a week ago—and between the warmth and all of the walking upstairs and back downstairs, carrying, stooping, lifting that had taken up the morning, she was growing uncomfortably sticky. All around her in the living room were cardboard boxes, some taped shut but most still in progress, and scattered items categorized into groups and piled vaguely together. They were attempting to keep everything as organized as possible, but at this point Christine had to admit that the temptation to just start throwing things into boxes was growing. There were plenty of things left to pack, and they were still figuring out what could be kept in the house during their absence and what should be packed away and stored.

Christine's own packing had been much simpler. Meg would keep most of their furniture and kitchenware since she was staying in the area and wouldn't have to move it far, and that left Christine with only her clothes and a few books and sentimental items. Packing for Erik was… different.

But she couldn't really begrudge his vast collection of stuff, even as the packing stretched on and their moving day approached. In a lot of ways, this had been his first real home; it was the first place where he had decided to settle, where he had decided to take a risk and not be prepared to leave at a moment's notice. He'd made it comfortable, filled it with almost anything of interest, and each item was further confirmation that he was staying here, that this was his home. It was certainly interesting to sort through. In addition to his extensive and varied record collection, he had a similarly varied but much less organized library, as well as a broad assortment of knick-knacks and gadgets that had caught his attention in a moment of boredom. And, of course, there was the colossal undertaking of the music room, which had kept Erik busy for the past few days. They had managed to find an apartment with a spare room that he could use, but the space was much smaller, and at any rate, transporting the music room in its entirety would have been quite an undertaking. Erik knew this and had given no indication that he was regretful about leaving anything behind, but Christine couldn't imagine that this was easy for him.

Her tired muscles protested as she stood, but she ignored it and picked her way across the piles to get to the music room. She found Erik seated on the piano bench sorting through sheet music. The room was far barer than she had ever seen it, the instruments packed away and the barely contained chaos that had always made the room feel so much like Erik far diminished, and she did her best to hide the twinge of sadness that the sight evoked. Erik looked up from his work and smiled at her.

"I'm making progress."

"I can see that," Christine said, her eyes roaming the room again. "It looks so different in here."

"How are things going out there?"

"Pretty good. It looks like a disaster, but I actually think I've got a handle on everything. It should go pretty smoothly from here. It'll definitely be done by tomorrow night."

Erik set aside the pile of music he'd been sorting through and moved over to make room for her on the piano bench, and she accepted the invitation gratefully. They were leaving the day after tomorrow, and that knowledge brought on mixed emotions; she was glad for Erik's presence, for the reminder that there was at least one very important thing that wasn't changing.

"Thank you for doing all of this," Erik told her, glancing out into the living room. "This whole process would be much easier if you weren't bringing me along. I'm sure that packing this house is more than you bargained for."

Christine laughed a little. "Maybe the packing would be easier, but literally nothing else would be. You know that I'm so, so grateful that you're coming with me, right?"

Erik gave her a gently smile. "Do you know that I'm so, so grateful that you want me to come with you?"

She nodded. "I think I have some idea. It can't be easy for you to leave behind this life that you created for yourself. After everything that you've gone through, this was meant to be safe and comfortable and permanent. And now you're leaving it for something completely different and unfamiliar, and you still seem… happy to do it."

"It is… a strange feeling to be leaving this," he admitted. "But Christine, when I decided to settle here, to create a life where I could feel safe and have a future, I built all of this around the assumption that I'd be alone. This home and everything in it was meant for a life of almost absolute solitude. And being with you, living my life with you… that's so much better than the best that I could have possibly imagined. A future with you makes the best possible future that I had planned for myself seem indescribably lonely and meaningless. You have no idea how easy of a decision it was—choosing to leave this to go with you."

Christine smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "You know you always say just the right thing." The packing felt a bit easier after that.

The next day was a bittersweet one spent with Meg and Mrs. Giry. Mrs. Giry had brought some of Christine's belongings from home, and the three of them sat and visited while Christine packed the last of her things. Christine tried not to think too much about how tomorrow morning she'd be saying goodbye to them. It's not like she'd be saying goodbye forever, of course—she and Erik would come back when they could, and Meg and Mrs. Giry were already excitedly making plans to come and visit them in the city. But they'd be so far away. She'd be so far away from the only home she'd had during the worst period of her life. She'd be far away from the people who carried her through that period. She'd be far away from the place where she'd spent her last months with her father. For a while, before she had made the decision to move official, she had mulled over this knowledge carefully, expecting it to sway her away from the desire to move. And it hadn't, not really. The move was the right thing for her to do, and she was confident that she had made the right choice. But that didn't make the goodbyes less sad.

"I think that's everything," Christine said, wiping her hands on her shorts as she looked around the apartment. She hadn't missed anything—all of her things were carefully packed, and all that was left was to take the final boxes over to Erik's to load into the trailer they'd rented.

"Hard to believe," Meg said, taking in the half-empty apartment from her seat on the couch.

"What, that the move is imminent or that I'm fully packed?"

"Both," Meg laughed, although the smile she gave Christine was a little sad.

Christine returned the expression and sat down between her and Mrs. Giry, unsure of what to say—she was determined not to be sad just yet, but she didn't think she could make a lighthearted reply around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

"Christine, I brought one more thing for you." Mrs. Giry rifled through her purse and pulled out a small picture frame, handing it to Christine gingerly. "I found this photo the other day and thought you might like to take it with you."

Christine took the frame and turned it over to examine the picture inside, and tears immediately sprang to her eyes as she looked at it. It was a photo of the four of them—the Girys, her father, and her—that summer right before he was diagnosed. She and Meg had their arms around each other like long-lost friends who had just been reunited, despite the fact that they spent nearly every day together, and everyone was beaming. Sometimes it was hard to remember moments like this when she thought about her father; sometimes it was hard to remember anything beyond the final days in the hospital or the months leading up to those days where she'd watched him waste away. In the face of how hard the end had been, it had taken Christine a while to remember the days when there had been joy. That summer with the Girys had been the best summer of her life. It'd been the first time she could recall when she'd felt a sense of home and belonging outside of her father. She remembered wishing that she and her father would never have to move again, never have to break up the little family that the four of them had formed. And now she was doing just that, and as happy as she was, she couldn't help the tears that began to fall or the wave of grief that swept over her.

Meg's arms were immediately around her, and in a second Mrs. Giry was embracing her as well, and Christine held onto them tightly.

"It's okay," Mrs. Giry soothed, stroking her hair. Christine nodded but made no move to release her or Meg. They remained there holding each other for a few minutes before Christine did eventually pull back, wiping her eyes and sniffling.

"It's okay," she repeated with a watery smile, although she wasn't sure if she was speaking more to them or to herself. "It's okay. I'm happy about the move, really. It's what I want and what's right for me right now. But I'm really going to miss you, and I just want you both to know how much you mean to me. You were there for me when I needed you most, when I felt like I had nothing, without even a thought. And you've never stopped being there for me. I couldn't have asked for a better family, and I love you both so much."

Meg smiled, swiping at the tears that she couldn't quite contain. "We love you too, Christine. I'm so happy for you and I know you're going to do great things, and I'm so excited to see what you achieve. But I'm going to miss you so much. I feel like I'm going to be missing half of myself, you know?"

Christine nodded, swallowing hard. "I know."

"But even though we'll be far away, we'll still be there for you," Mrs. Giry said gently. "We'll be cheering you on and supporting you in everything you do. And you can always come home, no matter what."

"Even if I'm coming back because I failed miserably at everything?" Christine asked lightly, but Mrs. Giry remained serious.

"Of course. You're hugely talented and capable, Christine, and everyone who loves you can't help but believe that you're going to accomplish some truly impressive things. But if everything goes wrong, no one's going to be disappointed in you. Your dad firmly believed that you'd be a star, but as happy as he would be to see how talented you are now, he'd be far prouder that you're trying—that you're pursuing your dream with so much passion and dedication and courage. That was what he wanted for you more than anything else. That's what we all want for you."

Again, Christine nodded and blinked back tears, her throat feeling too tight to speak right away. "Thank you," she said after a moment, her voice a little shaky. "You have no idea how much that means to me. And what having a home to come back to means to me. Knowing that I have both of you supporting me makes this whole thing a lot less scary."

"We're with you all the way, no matter what," Meg replied, squeezing her hand. Mrs. Giry took the other, and for a long while they sat like that, just savoring the moments they had to spend together.

That night, as she carefully tucked the photo into her suitcase, Christine felt Erik's arms wrap around her waist. She smiled and leaned back into his chest.

"All ready?" he asked softly.

"Amazingly, yes," she said. "You?"

"I'm ready too."

"I guess the only thing left to do is to go." When she turned to face him, she found a faint trace of sadness in his smile that mirrored her own.

"Let's go sit outside for a while," he suggested, and she nodded and took his hand, allowing him to lead her outside into the backyard. There they laid back in the cool grass, the blades tickling Christine's bare skin. The vast night sky stretched out over them, dotted with flecks of light that she knew would be invisible from their new home. The air was warm and the gentle breeze smelled faintly of rain; everything around them was still and fresh and perfect. Sighing a little, Christine shifted closer to Erik, draping her arm across his chest and tangling their legs. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, tightening his arm around her.

"I'm going to miss this," she said.

He didn't seem confused by her vagueness. "So am I."

"Promise we'll come back often?"

"Of course."

The silence settled in again, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the soft rush of the breeze through the trees. Once again, Christine did her best to blink back the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes. New York was seeming very far away.

"I don't know if I could do this without you," she said quietly.

Erik shifted a little so he could meet her eyes. "You could," he told her, and she smiled at his conviction, his belief in her as unfaltering as it always was.

"Maybe," she allowed. "But I'm glad I don't have to."

Erik said nothing but pulled her closer. There was no doubt in his mind that she could do this without him. This was absolutely what she was meant to do. But there was no way he'd be doing this without her. It was actually something that he'd thought a lot about, despite his complete certainty that any situation would be worth it if it meant he got to stay with her. He was heading into an entirely new life, leaving behind the only semblance of a secure and peaceful existence that he'd ever had. This move was no small matter. Truthfully, though, he wasn't afraid. This existence was one he'd created as an escape from the world—he'd long before given up the hope of being met with anything but hatred and ignorance, and the best that he could hope for was to distance himself from the world as much as possible. But then Christine had come into his life and bits of the world came with her, and he was beginning to think that perhaps it was time to, little by little, start to venture back into the world a little more. Maybe, with her by his side, things would be better than before. If there was any hope for him at all, it was because of her.

The air felt slightly electric the next morning, as if the world was ready for something and was just waiting for it to happen. Christine woke early with an odd feeling—a mix of giddy anticipation at the prospect of the adventure ahead of her and a kind of preemptive homesickness at the thought of the goodbyes she'd be saying that morning. A few deep breaths did nothing to steady her, so she rose and focused her energy on making sure that every last thing was ready for their departure. She and Erik finished packing the car and hitched up the trailer, and they were making a few final preparations to the house when the cars pulled up outside. Christine glanced at the time and felt her heart sink a little. Everyone was here to see them off, and it was time for the goodbyes that she'd been determinedly distracting herself from thinking about. It was time for them to go.

She and Erik met everyone outside, locking up the house behind them. Christine took Erik's hand as they descended the porch steps, not ready to start crying just yet although she already felt the tears pricking her eyes and needed the reassurance of her hand in his. Nadir, Mrs. Giry, and Meg all stood in the driveway, and Christine could tell that Meg and Mrs. Giry were, like her, struggling a little to maintain a cheerful expression. Even Nadir, as calm and stoic as he so often was, couldn't quite keep the sadness from his smile. No one spoke at first, and after a few more steps Christine released Erik's hand and hurried over to embrace Meg and Mrs. Giry. Erik approached Nadir and, when he hesitated for a moment, Nadir opened his mouth to say something. But then Erik opened his arms, and Nadir accepted the brief embrace with no small amount of surprise.

"I'm glad that you're doing this," Nadir said quietly, and Erik nodded, knowing that he meant more than that. It wasn't just the move—it was everything about where he was and who he was now, a far cry from the man he'd been when they'd met.

"Thank you," he said, knowing that Nadir would know that he meant more than that as well.

Christine finally released Meg and Mrs. Giry, wiping her eyes with a small smile. "I love you."

"We love you too," Mrs. Giry said softly.

Meg nodded, sniffling. "We love you, Christine. Have so much fun. Take Broadway by storm."

Christine laughed a little and turned to embrace Nadir as well, and Erik received quick embraces from the Girys. There were more well-wishes, plans to talk soon, bids of "drive carefully," and "let us know when you get there." And then there was no more stalling to do, and Erik and Christine turned to the car, turning back to wave before they climbed inside. Christine felt a fresh rush of tears come on as she settled into her seat, but when Erik reached over to take her hand and give her a soft smile, her replying smile was warm and genuine. They were really doing this; she was really doing this. This lifelong dream that had felt so far away, so far out of her grasp…. She was taking the leap, and Erik would be beside her. Whatever came next, he'd be with her, loving her and giving her more courage and determination than she'd ever known she'd had and making her love him more than she'd imagined she could love someone. As she looked at him, her heart felt full to bursting.

"Are you ready?" he asked her gently.

Taking a deep breath, Christine nodded. "Absolutely."