To the pathologist and the coroner and everyone else, it was a coincidence, albeit an unusual one. But Rose knew differently. Her mom had officially died about two hours before Hank and, yet, she and her mom had taken that walk after she'd seen Hank die. It made no sense unless the explanation was supernatural. Mom couldn't have been walking with her and, yet…she had been. For hours. Telling her everything she knew. If that wasn't proof of life after death then what about Bellamy? He'd vanished before her eyes and had never reappeared after. No trace of him anywhere. It was like he'd never existed. Even now, weeks later.

Andy maintained he didn't know what had happened to Bellamy and didn't want to know. Whatever mom had hired him for, it was over with now. At least he no longer believed Bellamy's motives had been unsavory; Blythe had set him straight on that score. But he flat-out refused to buy into Rose's Ouija talk. People die. People lie. Show me some solid proof or else it's all just wishful thinking. Honestly, I didn't think you were like that, Rosie. I thought you knew better than that.

And she had once, before Bellamy. But the more she pitted the facts of those three days against the so-called wishful thinking, the more she realized that it was impossible to prove any of it, at least anything supernatural. All she had was her own experience, and that told her everything her mom had said on that inexplicable midnight walk was true. It buoyed her with hope, knowing that somewhere, Bellamy and her mom were waiting for her, maybe watching on, maybe even reaching out to help her every now and then. But with hope came sadness. A deep, broad ocean of sadness on which hope could only stay afloat for so long before reality drowned it again. The reality that said here, now, and for the rest of her life she was going to be without the only two people she couldn't stand to be without.

Bellamy had tried and obviously failed to break free from his otherworldly duties in order to stay with her. She cried whenever she imagined him trying. Maybe he was trying still, somewhere, railing against the higher powers as he pictured Rose, in whichever ways he remembered her, desperately fighting the impossible fight against death and fate. That idea would always make her cry.

Always.

Then she'd lost her mom. Those tears needed no explanation, no rationale. But the thing that upset her most, that continued to nag at her weeks later when she returned to her mom's apartment to start boxing up her personal effects, was how helpless she felt. How utterly freaking ineffectual. Mom had died, Hank had died, Bellamy had vanished from her life, and she hadn't been able to prevent any of it. It had all just happened right there in front of her, like watching someone just fall from a cliff and you’re unable to jump after them. The most important things ever to have happened to her and all she could do was watch. These people she loved had been fighting the most powerful forces in the universe and all she'd done was think of herself, how selfish they were being for not including her.