Amy stood on the deck amongst the thrall of people. The song of a thousand heartbeats mingled with the sound of the sea, but all she could smell was their blood. She was wore a green silk dress that she had taken off of one of her victims - she had wanted to wear white, but somehow white clothing always became spoiled when she fed.
The women in general took very little notice of her, though a few men did. She blended in with them well enough, but she could not help feeling some apprehension about the journey. She would need to keep her hunger in check, and her hunger was a prodigious thing. Everything else had been arranged - her coffin (ostensibly for a rich European aunt whose last wishes were to be buried in her home soil) would be delivered to her cabin before she arrived there. She'd explained to the ship captain long ago her illness that prevented her from going out in the sunlight. The lie had seemed painfully obvious to her even as she spoke it, but money and a pretty face were worth more than common sense, it seemed. Now it would only be a matter of getting through a month without killing enough people to rouse suspicion.
The first few days of the journey were easy. Amy walked the deck by night, and dreamt. She did not regret Anka's death, but she needed to find more of her own kind. She could not go on forever, so very alone, and hardly knowing her own body. There were things she needed to learn.
The second week was torture. Amy fed off of an old lady, only meaning to take a small sip, and ended up killing her. No matter. It wasn't unheard of for the elderly to die on such long voyages. Amy remembered how Anka had fed off of her blood over and over again, night after night, and wondered how she had done it.
Wondering this made her wonder if she would be able to transform a living creature into the walking dead as Anka had done with her.
Another two hungry weeks, and Amy was half mad with starvation.
This was when she really and truly began to think of those she had left behind… Laurie and Jo and Meg and John Brooke … she thought of them constantly, and hungered for them. She'd left for precisely that reason. The desire for familiar blood became so strong that it nearly helped her in her quest to avoid feeding on her fellow passengers. They hardly seemed appetizing in comparison to those she had known and loved.
The second death was inevitable. A young Italian man. More suspicious, but by that time land was almost in sight.
It was on her last night, fully sated on blood but far too lonely to be clear of mind, that Amy penned her note to Laurie:
My Darling Lord,
I arrive in London tomorrow. I do not plan to stay there more than one night, and I shan't tell you where I am going just yet. Rest assured that I have not and shall never forget you. I would offer you my love eternally, and ask only the same from you in return. I promise to write you once more once I am quite certain I know how to make this come to pass, and then you can choose to come to me if you wish.
It was through kissing the envelope that contained this letter and then sending it on its way, that Amy found the hope she needed to embark upon her new life once she arrived in Europe.
Author's notes: There! After well over two years of writing this thing I'm finally finished. If you have gotten as far as this epilogue, I really hope you won't leave without leaving me a review (even if all you have to say it, "I read the whole thing!". Believe me, knowing that somebody actually read all of this would be thrilling to me.).