It was something he should have done years ago.

Not to have done so had been wrong. Unfair. Selfish. Thoughtless.

He should have let go.

It wasn’t fair on his lover to keep holding on.

Even though said lover insisted it didn’t matter.

It did.

He knew it did.

It was time.

As the fire reached up, he dropped the love letters Shannon had written to him into the flames and watched them burn. Watched as the orange and red fingers caressed, engulfed and finally ate the cream paper, turning it to ash. He watched the ash settle, come to rest.

He didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

He felt . . .

He felt right.

He felt at peace.

What he had done felt right. Was right. And somehow he knew Shannon approved. It’s what she would have wanted him to have done â€" years ago.

He had done what he had set out to do: finally let go.

Moments later he felt his lover’s arm slip through his. “Come inside, my dear Jethro.� The voice was soft.

With one final glance at the fire, Jethro slipped his arm around his lover’s shoulders, and let Ducky lead him back into their house.