So before I even started writing the final book in the series, I had in my head how Trinket's confession and Booker's proposal were going to happen. And I was so excited about it that I had to write the scene out before I got to that part (out of character for me as a writer; I prefer to write the scenes chronologically).

In the end, though, I decided to do it differently. I felt I'd strung you guys along for long enough with the mystery of Trinket's past, so I wrote that earlier in the story. Also, I originally intended for Booker to be mad at Benedict because his game nearly got Trinket killed. But then I felt bad for my twisted little scientists and changed that a bit.

Anyhow, here's the first attempt:

Trinket found Benedict and Booker standing before each other in silence. Benedict was holding the old medical book close to his chest as he and Booker shared a long gaze. There was electricity in the air, mixed with more emotions than Trinket could name. She saw in the two men's eyes joy, affection, nostalgia, regret, resentment. This wasn't the reunion she had expected between the two.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said after a moment of waiting on the stairs.

They snapped out of their daze and turned to her. Benedict forced a smile and took a step away from Booker. "No, no interruption. We were just catching up as I tended to his wounds. But I think he could benefit from your bedside manner now."

He gave Booker a sad smile, and Booker responded with a terse nod. Benedict then proceeded up the stairs, and as he passed Trinket, he paused for a moment to meet her eyes. There was an indescribable sadness mixed with something like relief.

"Take care of him," he whispered.

Trinket watched as he disappeared upstairs and closed the door. She then turned to Booker whose eyes were on her. She could not suppress a smile as she hurried down the rest of the steps and threw her arms around Booker. He held her tight, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"I'm so glad you're all right," she said, tears of relief forming in her eyes.

"And I you. I was so afraid I had lost you like I had Gin. I was terrified and furious." He pulled away just enough to gaze down at her. "I don't know what I would do if I lost another loved one to Scales."

She shook her head. "I'm just happy we found you before it was too late."

Pushing the hair back from her forehead, Booker asked, "So where did you go? What happened?"

"Frieda drugged me and had me shipped back to Elysium."

His eyes went wide. "She what?"

"But Benedict came and got me. I was hardly there for a few hours."

Gripping her shoulders, Booker clenched his teeth. "I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill that little—"

Trinket shook her head and placed a hand on his chest. "Booker, don't. It's not worth it. I don't care."

"I do. I hate that you even had to step foot in that horrible place again. I swear, I'm going to do worse than sew snakes onto her head this time."

"Booker, stop. I have to tell you something. I have to tell you before Frieda does."

He cocked his head curiously, but she didn't elaborate. Instead, she coaxed him into sitting on a chair by one of the workbenches. She paced the laboratory a few times, painfully aware of Booker's eyes on her.

"Trinket, listen, you don't—"

She held up her hand to silence him. "No. I need to tell you. I need there to be no secrets between me and the ones I love."

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and gripped her skirts. This was it. She was going to tell him. Everything. Absolutely everything. And whether or not he still wanted her around afterwards was up to him.

"When my parents sent me to Elysium," she started, leaning against a wall and facing Booker, careful to keep a good distance between them, "they did so for good reason. I was sixteen when I had my first dark episode. My first experience with monstrous hallucinations."

She swallowed hard as the memories came back. That horrible night. The dark kitchen, the warm blood on her hands, the pained cry of Merrill. She wanted to force them down, but she knew she couldn't. She had to go on.

"It was very much the same as the incident here in the kitchen when I first started working for you. I lost touch with reality and panicked. I grabbed a knife and started attacking the monster before me."

The feel of the knife as it plunged into an imaginary fiend, over and over. And then the feel of something very real beneath her weapon. And yet she still couldn't stop, even as blood splattered across her nightgown.

"Too late I realized what I was actually stabbing." She swallowed again, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "It was my brother. Merrill. He'd heard my screams and came to help me. And I attacked him. I stabbed him in the chest. Over and over and over."

Her own chest tightened as the image of his face twisted in pain surfaced in her mind. A sob tried to break free from her lips, but she forced it down.

"I killed him. My only brother. The one person in my life who ever tried to help me. He did so much for me, and I repaid him by taking his life. My parents were right to send me away. I was a danger. A killer. I didn't deserve to live amongst society any longer. I didn't deserve to live at all. That's why I was so bent on suicide. I didn't think I had a right to be alive when Merrill no longer was. But they wouldn't let me die in Elysium. So when I escaped, I was determined to die. And then you found me, and you showed me this new life I could have, and I selfishly decided to take it. It's something I've struggled with all these months. Why should I be living happily when Merrill cannot? What right do I have? And it's why I've been afraid to love you. Because the only other person I cared for as much as I care for you was Merrill. I mean, it wasn't the same kind of love, but it was just as strong. And look what I did to him."

She finally met Booker's eyes, and she was surprised to find, not shock or disgust in his gaze, but sympathy. No, more than sympathy.

Guilt.

And then it dawned on her. "You already knew all of this," she said.

The guilt intensified as he averted his eyes and nodded.

"How long?"

"I tried to find information about you as soon as I hired you, but I came up with nothing. But after that incident in the kitchen and your confession about Elysium, I was able to make much more progress. And then on my trip to Broadfall, I did a little more investigating and learned even more friend your friends and family."

Broadfall. So he had dug up information on her on his trip to talk to the Baron.

He rose from his chair and took several hesitant steps towards her. "I'm so sorry, Trinket. I should have told you, but after I did it, I felt so guilty, I could barely look you in the eye, and I was afraid if you found out what I'd done, you'd be spooked and run off. And I didn't want to lose you after having found such a spectacular assistant. I kept thinking I should tell you as the months went by, but then I grew more and more attached to you, and it was more than just fear of losing a good employee. It was the fear of losing a good friend. A best friend. And then the woman I loved."

Trinket shook her head and gave a weak smile. "No, no, it's fine. I understand. I should have known someone like you would be too clever not to find out." She glanced up at him and hesitated. "Did you find my family?"

He took a sharp breath. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"And they're well?"

He nodded. "Indeed, they are. Actually, they moved to Dufferford shortly after they sent you away. Couldn't take the gossip, I suppose."

That made sense. Her mother couldn't stand if her reputation had been ruined. "So that's why you wanted information from Henry and Alice."

Shame flashed through his eyes. "Yes. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so deceitful."

Again, she shook her head. "I'm not made Booker. I'm just relieved that they're well."

He took another breath. "Yes, they're doing quite well I hear. Your mother, you father." He paused and met her eyes. "Your brother."

Trinket froze. Did he just say—

"My brother?"

Her voice sounded far away as she spoke. Booker nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes. Your brother. Merrill Seymour."

Her breathing grew more difficult as she tried to absorb what Booker had just said. Her brother. Merrill. The brother she had stabbed with a knife countless times. The brother who, when she had seen him last, was lying still in a pool of his own blood.

He was alive?

"You're telling me that my brother is alive?" she asked softly, finding it a struggle to speak each word.

Booker took a step towards her. "Yes. He's alive."

She lost all the strength in her body and grabbed at the wall to keep from falling. But Booker was quick to catch her, pulling her upright again as worry flashed through his eyes.

"Trinket? Trinket, I'm sorry, I—"

Laughter burst forth from her lips, taking him by surprise. And then panic seemed to take over as her laughter was mixed with sobs and she was unable to reassure him that she was fine. Leaning into his chest, she laughed and cried while he held her close. When finally she was able to control herself, she pulled away and looked up at him.

"Trinket, I am so sorry," he said. "I should have told you. I wanted to tell you. I can't count the number of times I nearly did. But I was terrified that you'd be upset with me or that I would upset you. You seemed so intent on leaving the past behind you. And while I thought it would do you good to know about your brother, I knew I had already crossed enough lines, so..."

Shaking her head, Trinket tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but they were quickly replaced by new ones. Something told her she should be upset with Booker for not telling her sooner. But she was too relieved to know that her brother was alive.

She hadn't killed him.

Booker gripped her shoulders desperately. "Please, Trinket. Please forgive me. For the intrusion and for not telling you."

"Merrill is alive. That's all that matters." She took a deep breath and met Booker's eyes. "Is he physically well? Was there any permanent damage done?"

"He walks with a cane and must be careful about exerting himself too much physically. But it's a far cry from being dead. His survival is something of a miracle."

"And is he happy?"

"Yes, I believe so. The last I heard, he was engaged."

Her heart leapt. "Engaged? To whom?"

"A young girl named Rae, I believe?"

Trinket closed her eyes and bit her lip. Rae. She stayed with him. Even after everything that happened. The memories of the days she had spent with her brother and his beau played out in her head. The way Merrill looked at Rae, as if she contained the whole world. Trinket remembered the young lady so well. How she exuded sunshine and somehow reminded her of sweet strawberry candy. She had never seen her brother quite so happy as when he was with Rae. And now he was going to spend the rest of his life with her. Nothing could have brought her more joy.

"Would you like to go see him?" Booker asked, pulling her away from her memories. "I can make arrangements. I'll even go with you if you don't want to go alone."

Panic seized her heart, and Trinket's eyes shot open. "No. I mean, not right now. I don't think I'm quite ready to face him yet. Or my parents."

Booker nodded his understanding. "If you ever want to, though—"

Trinket leaned her head against Booker's chest. "I know. But I'm rather content where I am right now. Here in Tinkerfall. With you. Maybe in a year or so I'll be ready. For now, though, this is all I need. This is my home and my present. And my future."

Wrapping his arms around her, Booker placed a kiss atop her head and whispered, "Would you like to make that official?"

She looked up, her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Pulling away from her, Booker headed to his writing desk. Trinket watched as he opened one of the drawers and fetched a small box. When he returned to her, a nervous smile was playing on his lips.

"Would stay here, in Tinkerfall? With me? As my friend, as my partner." He opened the box to reveal a silver band with a pearl set in the center of three tiny brass gears, as though it were a flower and the gears were its petals. "And as my wife?"

Trinket gawked at him. "As your wife?"

He nodded. "I can't imagine anyone else I would rather have by my side. There's no one I trust more, no one I admire more. No one I love more. Trinket—Katherine Seymour—would you do me the honor of allowing me to be your husband?"