[Now knowing her fate and how she actually does meet her end, she feels at peace with things in a way she hadn't when she only thought she had died before. A small smile tugs up at the corners of her mouth and she presses a hand up against her chest to see if her heart's still beating here. It is. She's breathing, too. Her body's just the same as it was years ago. That hasn't changed at least.]

They're memories of the best years of my life. And they remind me that tomorrow's promised to no one, but I'm entitled to my past. The memories are mine.