[ He doesn't want this to be fleeting. He doesn't want this to be brief. Even if he wouldn't know how much time had passed if he hadn't been told, he knows that to him, it all feels like years piled on top of years with no end in sight. How many times has he looped back on himself? How many times has he died and came back in the writer's room as if he never left? All he knows is that he's tired and he's ready for this to end. This nightmare has to end; he doesn't think he has it in him to go on like this anymore.

Thinking about what might be there waiting for him the day that the story finally ends has kept him going, but it's getting harder to keep putting one foot in front of the other. ]

... Even if it seems as though I'm giving up, even if I sound too tired to even take another step, I'm not. I promise. I'll come home. It- I think it's going to be hard. I'll want to give up. I might ask if I can stop. Don't let me stop.

[ His eyes shift to that shimmer that means Polaris is responding in her own way. The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile. ]

I can't ask you for more, but with just a little encouragement- well, maybe a lot of it, I can keep going.