milliways_bar: Not Fade Away.

It was time. More than time, if Fred were honest with herself, which she tried to be. It was hard not to be when you'd had all that time with just yourself (future versions of that self nonwithstanding.) It was time, and she'd made her peace.

Just one or two things left to do.

Three letters, to be left with Bar on her way out:

( For Wesley. )

( For Illyria. )

( For anyone else who knew her. )

And on the wall (the perfect, pristine wall -- she'd never taken to writing on it here, not even the days she was sorely tempted), in slightly loopy and messy handwriting, said with a whispered almost-prayer to whatever magic kept this place running to let it stay for a while, just long enough that someone would know, and remember an existence that had been lead quietly and often incredibly strangely, but lead nonetheless:

Winifred Burkle was here.