[ WP ] Write an ending scene that hints at the enormity of the quest that came before it .

The question kept returning to his head, unbidden always. How? How did it come to this? 
 
 Did he have time to consider the question? Nobody was going to show up and tell him to stop. Nobody was left to be the boss of him. 
 
 But it would n't be fair to waste time on distractions, not now, not to her. The breath which came from her was heavy, now, and laboured, an unhealthy and guttural noise. Beads of sweat had drenched her pretty face, chiseled away the make-up and coagulated it into small mounds - she had the complexion of a mountain range, with lakes of perspiration in the valleys and clefts. 
 
 She could n't go on without him - not in any direction, least of all up. The water was still rising, or at least it was the last time he checked. If he let her stay here, she'd be drowned. 
 
 And she was his love. More than that, his only hope, humanity's only hope. The last woman, surely a good mother given the chance. If he left her here to die, she'd never be given the chance. 
 
 So he had to continue, carry her by hook or crook to the mountain's peak, the pinnacle atop the world, where safety from the flood would be found, if it was anywhere to be found. In a strange sort of way, he was now as dependent on her as she was on him: without her, his dreams would die. With such responsibility he had no time to dwell on retrospectives and hypotheticals. The only thoughts he could allow were those which strengthened his resolve, thoughts of a future where Jess was as alive as he was. 
 
 Thoughts of a hundred thousand lost futures. The names, the faces, swirling in his mind: Eva, Jon, Caro, Chris. Gone now, but they lived in him. 
 
 Was it really worth it, though, in the end, when everything was tallied together and the final scores were in? The wounds Jess had suffered were deep, her pale dress red with still-pouring blood. She might die at the top of the hill, and even if she did n't, bearing children could be impossible for her now. Sure, they could enjoy a lifetime together alone, but all the hard work that needed would make their time scarce, and who would be there when they were old, to feed them and soothe their pain? Perhaps it would be a kindness to return to the water, hold Jess' face beneath the surface and quell the uncertainty. 
 
 She slipped from his grasp, stumbled to the ground. He pulled her back to her feet, but with an effort he could n't sustain. 
 
 `` Do n't give up, Jess.'' He spoke to her, but he was n't speaking to her. He was speaking to his own desires, his own wishes. Yet still she spoke to him. 
 
 `` I wo n't.'' A staccato whisper, each word broken by the gargling and hissing of her deathbound voice. `` As long as you do n't.'' 
 
 And he would n't give up, not ever. Jess went through hell for him, and he for her. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. For Jess, or for the memory of Jess.
