An hour ago I left the Purple Palace to drop Dr. Ana off. Little Eleven was crouched at the door communicating between the living room, where we work, and the bedroom, her beautiful green eyes wide with sadness and fear of abandonment as they always are.
When I returned she was in the exact spot with the exact eyes. She hadn't moved in one hour.
I didn't get Eleven "fixed." Her heats, the latest one ended just today, are trying. But I will not change her. She is the most loyal, loving creature to me.