Even in May, the wind was fierce on the Donegal coast. John was glad for the coat he had brought. Elijah had warned him, of course, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad.

"Does the weather ever get better?" he asked, linking his arm into the crook of the other man's.

Elijah chuckled, keeping his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.

"Sometimes," he said. "But remember, this is the west coast. We're on the cusp of the Atlantic." He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, exhaling at length. "Aah," he said. "Smells like home."

"Smells like seaweed," John said.

That earned him a poke in the ribs.

They were standing on a rocky shoreline, somewhere between Maghery and the end of the world, as far as John could see. It was barren, it was grey – and yet at the same time it was alive.

Wind-whipped and red-cheeked, Elijah looked contented as he stood at the edge of his homeland.

"Do you miss it?" John asked, raising his voice above the noise of the wind.

Elijah gave his trademark shrug.

"Sometimes," he said. "Though sometimes it reminds me more of the bad times than the good."

John pulled both of Elijah's hands from his pockets and turned him around. They were facing one another, little spots of rain landing on their faces.

"Well, let's make some positive memories," he said, leaning in for a kiss. When they parted, Elijah was grinning. John knew he could make him grin even more. "Eli, thank you for sticking by me through everything." Elijah tried to wave the compliment off but John would not allow it. "No, really. Thank you. You have no idea what it's meant to me… What you mean to me." He paused, not quite believing the words that were about to come out of his mouth. "Eli, I love you."

The wind was taken out of Elijah's sails with that. His expression shifted from shock to disbelief, and then to tentative joy. John grasped his chin lightly to make him keep his gaze.

"I really do," he said.

Elijah gave him a wobbly smile and pulled him in for another kiss.

"I love you too, Johnny," he said. Then he pulled back and laughed. "You had me worried for a second there," he said. "For a minute, I thought you were going to ask me to marry you!"

John shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Jumping the gun a bit there, aren't you?" he said. "And anyway, I forgot to tell you – Alan and Tin-Tin have finally set a date."

Elijah crossed himself and looked to the sky.

"May God preserve her," he said.

John smacked at Elijah's hands but couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"Stop that," he said. "But, at least now we can 'go' together – though as far as I know they're planning to have the ceremony on the island."

"So we won't be a couple of single loners crying into our drinks," Elijah said. "There are a lot of them on the island already."

John was about to chide him again but instead conceded.

"True. Although, if they invite Amelia and Georgie, I can think of a certain artistic brother who might not stay single for long…"

Elijah looked as though he was trying to figure something out – something so complicated it made his eyes cross.

"So, Virgil would be Amelia's stepfather, but your daughter would be Amelia's half-sister and her mother would also be her cousin? What does that leave me?"

John shook his head.

"Confused," he said. "Again with jumping the gun." He looped his arm in Elijah's again and motioned for him to walk. "Come on. All this fresh air is giving me an appetite."

"Then it's time for a chip on the beach."

John frowned.

"English, man," he said.

Elijah responded in his horrific American accent.

"We're going to eat fries on the big sandy thing up the road," he said.

The sound was like nails on a blackboard and yet, John thought as they turned from the rocky shore and headed for the path, at the same time it was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.

So much had happened. So much had changed. And, now that he was emerging from the darkness to plant himself in the light, it didn't seem so bad.

From the depths of his mind, a quote from a high school philosophy class echoed against the wind. He grinned.

As Aristotle said, 'Change, in all things, is sweet.'