*Enoch had been seated at one of the terminals for most of the morning, his screen on a very old post. It was like a more candid journal, being able to go back and see how he had reacted to things earlier.

He didn't think he'd changed too much. His hope had shifted around and at times been buried, but it never left him. He always had hope in something. He supposed what he was really there for was Dax more than it was himself. Seeing all the signs he'd actually been trying his hardest to help.

He wondered if the Freemen pondered over the Prophecies of Ishtar this way after her death.

Finally, unable to take the sting of loss anymore, even if it wasn't as personal this time, he got up to stretch his legs, to wander aimlessly and clear his head. What he found was Sheba, wandering likewise.*

...It's been a difficult month.