"You will come with me," Fate had said, and although John had protested, he'd gone with him half an hour ago. Wally kind of doubted John was doing his own thinking right now; his expression was blank, and he barely spoke, and there was nothing any of them could do to make it better.

The clock on the computer told him Shayera had been dead for nineteen hours when the yellow ankh thingy rematerialized. John appeared, hunched over and alone.

Before anyone could say anything, John turned. "Do you think he can hear me?" he whispered, stroking the delicate, speckled shell.

A/N: Ending this particular drabble sequence here. Hope you've enjoyed! - N.B.