Epilogue

        Fluttershy turned in her sleep.  The moon illuminated her bedroom with flowing grey light, which washed over the floorboards, nightstand, blanket, revealing colors and textures that kept hidden during the day but slip out at night when all is quiet and the sun is nowhere to be found.  She turned again, the blanket nearly rolling to the floor, and smiled.  She smiled through the first bum bum bum of the door, her ear twitched during the second, and her grin slipped away completely during the third.

Bum bum bum.

Her eyes opened and she struggled briefly with the blankets while she slipped out of bed, one wing half unfurled, eyes still half-shut.  Her dream slowly began to fade away as she trod down the stairs, part of her wondering who could be knocking at such an hour, the other part trying to grasp the fading shadows of the two ponies who had seemed so clear in her sleep only minutes ago.  A gentle breeze swept through the kitchen window, bringing with it a scent of nighttime dew, spring rain, and petals.  

Bum bum bum.

She yawned, tired but no longer half-asleep.  Finally she entered the living room, where she took a moment to glance at the rose sitting in her mother’s vase.  Six days—seven if you consider it was past midnight—since she had come home from her journey, and every day she had checked to make sure the rose was still there, that it was real, that it wasn’t broken.  The whole thing felt like a dream, doubly so because of the late hour.  But the rose was there, and it was real, and it shone with captured moonlight just as the last one had.  When she had picked it from the ground of the Spring, it had been soft, delicate, like the roses that grew in her own garden.  Over time it had crystallized, becoming hard and luminous, until it was almost exactly like the last.  There was one difference: the first had only two leaves—this one had three.  She stared a moment longer, mystified by the spectrum of colors it splayed across the vase and wall around it.  Satisfied that it was there, her mind wandered once more, and she began to think of her father.  Why had she gotten up?  She was tired again, and as her eyes drooped her father seemed even closer, nearly as close as the two shadows from her dream.

Bum bum bum.

With a start she opened her eyes and headed across the living room towards the door, noticing the four tiny shadows beneath the crack, the familiar shadows of hooves.  She yawned once more, covering her mouth with a hoof, and opened the door.

“Oh.  Hi, Rainbow Dash.  What are you doing here so late?”

Dash smiled guiltily.  “I just wanted to talk.  I didn’t wake you, did I?”  Dash immediately regretted asking such a ridiculous question; Fluttershy’s coat was rumpled, her bedhead was obvious, and her tail was wrapped and twisted.  Her eyes, however, were fully aware, and watched Dash with curiosity and concern.

“Um, yes, you did wake me, but that’s okay.  Here, come in.”

As Fluttershy stepped aside, Rainbow walked into the living room, careful to wipe her hooves on the mat—she wasn’t normally concerned with cleanliness, but something about Fluttershy’s house always demanded pristine care and neatness.  It was more than that, though; tonight, Dash had the odd feeling that she owed Fluttershy, that after the events of the last few weeks, there was something that still needed to be said.

“Have a seat.  What do you need to talk about?  Did something happen?”

Dash took a seat on the couch, and Fluttershy settled down in the chair across from her.  Why had she come here?  The feeling lingered, that there was something she needed to say, but she didn’t know what it was.  All night she had lain in bed, thinking, remembering every moment of the journey, playing through in her mind over and over again how Fluttershy had walked off towards the Spring, leaving them all to wait while she alone confronted the foe they had all joined together to defeat.  The wind had drowned out whatever noise came from the cavern, and for an almost unbearable stretch of time they had waited, Dash most impatiently of all, for their friend to return—or, as horrible as the thought was, not return.  That’s what had plagued Dash, and that’s why she was sitting on her friend’s couch at two in the morning, trying to decide what to say.

“Fluttershy, I want to know what happened in there.”

Fluttershy tilted her head.  “Dash, I already told all of you.  We discussed it with Princess Celestia and Luna for hours.  What more do you want to know?”

“I know you’ve already told us everything, but it feels like something’s missing.”  She thought for a moment.  “Okay, how about this: you went in there alone.  Why’d the Rose bring all of us along if all it really needed was you?”

In the silence, the cottage groaned.  A breeze whispered across the curtains.  Outside, the crickets played their monotone symphony.  For a moment Dash thought Fluttershy was thinking deeply about her question.  Then Flutteshy started, shaking her head, and wiped her eyes.

“Sorry, Rainbow Dash.  I’m still sleepy.  Could you say that again?”  She had almost fallen asleep again, fallen into the land of the two shadows.

The guilt crept back, and Dash once more regretted disturbing her friend at such an hour.  But her questions needed answering, so she asked again, this time slowly and quietly, as if trying not to disturb somepony’s sleep.  “Why did the Rose decide to bring us along if all it needed was you?”

“Oh.  I’ve thought about that, too.”  She smiled.  “Well, first of all, Rainbow Dash,” she began, her voice solemn, “you wouldn’t have let me go alone, would you?  You’re too good a friend.  Maybe the Rose knew that my friends would want to go with me, so it brought you all along, knowing you’d follow one way or the other.”

Could it be that simple?  It certainly was true that neither she nor the rest of her friends would have let Fluttershy take one step on any journey without standing by her side.  But that reminded Dash of the very end, when her friends had so easily let Fluttershy enter the cave alone.  Only she, Dash, had voiced any objection to letting their meekest friend face an enemy of unknown strength—all on her own.  “I hadn’t thought of that.  It’s just... we fought through so much with you.  You know I hate acting all sappy, but separating from you when we all split up was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.  So when you went up that path alone, it was like you were leaving us behind after everything we went through for you.  The forest, the ocean, Rarity in the quicksand...”  The memory was still raw; it felt as if only a small glitch in time could send her back to that moment, only this time she wouldn’t be able to pull her friend loose.  She shuddered.

“I know, Dash.”  Fluttershy closed her eyes.  After a long silent moment, Rainbow Dash thought she had fallen asleep.  Then, barely a whisper: “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Dash sat forward on the couch, confused.  “You’re sorry?  About what?  No, don’t cry!”  This was getting worse and worse.  She had come to Fluttershy’s house to get answers and ease her conscience, not to disturb her friend’s sleep and bring her to tears.  What did I say?  “What’s wrong?  Tell me.”  She lifted herself from the couch and stood before Fluttershy, who was practically hiding behind her wings.

“It’s... it’s just...”  She took a breath, calmed herself with a sigh, and sat back, rubbing her eyes.  “I’m sorry for dragging you all along, making you all split up, taking you all the way to the Spring, and putting you all in danger.  I never wanted to do any of that.”

“Hey,” Dash said, patting Fluttershy’s shoulder as if trying to press sense into her, “that’s not how it was at all, and you know it.  You even said it yourself: I wouldn’t have let you go alone, right?  Well, you’d better believe that.  No way would I have let you leave.  Same with the others.  We were following the Rose, Fluttershy.  Remember?  It chose all of us.  We couldn’t just sit at home, right?  And the Rose was your father’s, right?  Didn’t he tell you something about us?  What was it?”

“‘Your friends won’t let you down,’” she sniffed.

“Exactly.  C’mon, knock it off with the tears.  My mom used to say a pegasus should try not to cry because the earth ponies below might think it’s raining.  You’re crazy if you think that we blame you.”

Fluttershy peered out from behind her wings, her tears drying.  “Did your mom really used to say that?”

“Well, you know,” Dash kicked at the ground, embarrassed.  “It’s a mom thing.  The point is, none of us blame you.  I’d do it all over again if I had to, and I’m sure the others would, too.  We did it ’cause the Rose—” she turned to the new Rose in the vase on the table and cut off.  “Whoa... is that the same Rose that you had when you came out from the Spring?”

Fluttershy nodded.

        “When did it get so shiny and solid?  When you first brought it out, it looked like an ordinary rose.”  Dash turned her head, staring at it from every angle, marveling in the way it absorbed and amplified her reflection.

        “A few days ago,” Fluttershy yawned.  “I think this one is supposed to replace the last one.  In case it has to be used again.”

        Rainbow chuckled humorlessly.  “I don’t know, Fluttershy.  You know how I said I’d go through it all over again?  I wasn’t exactly planning on it anytime soon.”

        Fluttershy grinned and stood up from her chair.  “I don’t think we have to worry about it.  My father guarded it his whole life and never had to use it.  I think it’ll be a long time until it needs to be used again.  Who knows?  Maybe it will never need to be used again.”

        Dash grinned, then stretched out her legs and wings in a long yawn.  “I think we both need to get some sleep.  We’ve got a big day ahead of us, you and I.  Oh, and the reason I came here...”  She paused, collecting her words.  She had come with a purpose, one that had eluded her before but was clear now; what needed to be said had been said before, but not enough, not with meaning.  This time it would matter.  “I wanted to thank you.  For going into that cavern alone and doing what you had to do and helping Thade.  Nopony else could have done that.  It must have taken a lot of courage to confront him like that.  The Rose definitely made a good choice when it picked you, Fluttershy.”

        Fluttershy blushed.  “I just showed him kindness.”

        Dash placed a hoof upon her shoulder.  “No, you did more than that.”  They stood like that for a moment, the silence even more meaningful than the conversation that had just taken place.  “Well, I’d better go.”  She yawned once more.  “I think now I should be able to get some sleep.  Sorry for waking you.  See you tomorrow, Fluttershy,” she said, winking.

        “Goodbye, Rainbow Dash.  Thanks for stopping by, even if it is late.”  Fluttershy followed her friend to the door, and they shared a momentary glance before she eased it shut.  They each felt at peace within that glance, the questions that had been haunting Dash answered, the guilt that had been plaguing Fluttershy swept away.

        Even as she made her way back to her room, her mind began drifting back to sleep.  However, in the dimming of her consciousness, a bemusing question arose: What did Dash mean when she said we have a big day ahead of ourselves?  Then she succumbed to sleep, returning to the land of the two embracing shadows.

***

        It really wasn’t that different than the first world.

        The trees still grew and the flowers still bloomed and the clouds still drifted in the sky (with the occasional adjustment of a pegasus).  There were still butterflies and rain and day and night.  But as he drifted through the village, which was nearly identical in every way to the one he and Laska had shared so long ago, it became apparent that this world followed different rules.  Though everything looked the same, Thade realized he could see more clearly; the mountaintop in the distance seemed just as detailed and sharp as the ground before him, and as he watched, a squirrel hopped from one tree branch to another, tinier than the tip of a sewing needle but with brown marble eyes clear as the sky.  For a moment, he felt a pang of déjà vu, and realized he had seen this world many times before—in his dreams.  He recognized it not from the ponies around him or the town he was in—though he had dreamt of that town many times—but from the way everything glowed, as if the world was painted upon a thin sheet of paper with a brilliant light held beneath it.  The air was fantastically cool, light, and breezy, like stepping into an ice room on a hot summer’s day.  And at the same time it was warm.  Over time, Thade realized there were few absolutes in this world, no hots and colds or fasts and slows or yesterdays and tomorrows.  Everything just was, everything was ideal.

        Just as Thade could see the squirrel on the distant mountaintop and the microscopic granules of dirt around his hooves, so could he see himself.  Every moment from his life in the first world was accessible instantly in perfect detail, and in a tenth of a second he relived through his first spell; Laska’s feather floating to the ground in the schoolyard; his meeting with Celestia when he stole her away; giving Laska a rose in the field, a rose very similar to the one resting in the pouch on his side.  But he felt no shame or despair for his mistakes, his descent into obsession, because in this world he saw and he knew, and he knew what was right and what was wrong and he knew the last step, the step still ahead.  He could still make it right.

        When he had first arrived, he was surprised at the amount of young ponies he saw; if death was the gateway to this world, he had expected that most of the inhabitants would be elderly.  After his first day in this new place, however, he realized without being told that here ponies seem to take on the age in their life in which they were happiest, the age that they believe defined them and gave them purpose.  He discovered this upon looking in the mirror on the morning of his second day, and was surprised to see he was little more than a colt.  Though it bothered him at first, he soon realized how fitting it was—if he really was to see her again, what better way than as a colt, the same age they were when they first met?  It would be like starting over, or perhaps beginning right where they left off.  The thought made Thade feel as young as he looked.

        The road beneath him extended into the town’s main street, with little shops on either side and ponies moving slowly about their businesses.  There was chatter, laughter, but never arguments, never an altercation or disruption save for the occasional troublesome foal playing tag and colliding with an unsuspecting and sympathetic pedestrian.  It seemed to Thade that the inhabitants of this world were beyond argument and grudges.  There was a sort of mutual connection between them all, one that could be heard in their laughter and conversation, as if the experience of death had joined them all together as a family, bonded them like a common plight that they had each overcome.  He felt it within himself, this connection; as he stepped down the main street, he met glances and heard his name spoken like an open secret.

        “That’s the one.  That’s the one who tried to bring her back, and now he’s here to find her.”

        “It was the daughter of that pegasus—you know, the one who cares for the animals in that cottage on the hill?—who spoke to him and showed him the way.”

        “It takes courage to do what he did—to admit his mistakes, to turn back.  It takes courage.”

        None of the comments were guarded or whispered—there were no secrets, no gossip in this place.  And he didn’t feel embarrassed; in fact, their acknowledgement of him gave him strength, as if by confirming his presence and speaking openly and without furtiveness, they displayed their forgiveness and acceptance.  He approached an apple-green mare outside a boutique, smiling sheepishly, like a filly trying to conceal excitement while asking his mother if a friend could spend the night.  The mare smiled warmly in return, already knowing him, already knowing the question, already knowing the answer.

        “Excuse me, ma’am?”

        “Yes, child?  Thade, isn’t it?”

        He grinned and nodded.  “I was wondering if you know where a certain pegasus lives?  Laska, her name is?”

        The mare beamed.  “Oh, little Laska.  Yes, she lives with her parents just down the road and to the right, on Alamar Avenue.  Friend of hers?”

        Thade nodded.  He knew that she knew everything—about what he had done, what he had almost done, and the pony who was the final destination of the journey that had taken him across mountains, valleys, and worlds—into darkness, then back into light.  No, no secrets here.  He himself already knew where to find her.  The town was the same, nearly a carbon copy, of the village where they had lived so long ago in the first world.  He already knew her house would be the same, the front door would be the same grey, the chimney would exhale the same wispy smoke.  But he couldn’t go straight there.  Even in this world, which existed in a sort of suspended and peaceful moment in time, in which all was always clear and open and everypony knew everything about everypony else, it was still necessary to ask, as if this were the first world, as if nothing had changed and everything was uncertain.  It had to be done right.  “Yes,” he said.  “She’s a friend of mine.  We met at school.  I was hoping I could see her today and give her something.”

        “That’s very nice of you,” the mare said, still beaming.  Her name was Arrow Grove.  Nopony had told him that; he just knew, just as she knew what rested in the pouch on his side.  “Tell her I said hello, would you?”

        “Sure.  Thanks very much.”  He strode off in the direction of Alamar Avenue.  As he walked, the ponies around him turned their heads, thinking, There he goes to see her.  Finally, there he goes.

***

        The house was indeed the same.  As he ambled up the walkway to the porch, he felt as if time was fading away around him, as if the years were reversing and he was walking up the path for the first time; he felt just as nervous as now as he did then, and his heart beat faster with each round stone step that he passed until he was finally at her door.

        For a moment he stood there, anxious but excited, running through his head over and over again what he would do and say.  The grey door stood before him like an old friend who had been away for a long time, like a friend he was meeting now for the first time in years, who had been through so much while they were separated that he was different somehow, maybe so different that their friendship couldn’t be restored.  Thade, however, was willing to try.  With a deep breath he shut his eyes, raised a hoof, and knocked lightly three times upon the door.

Years ago, in a different world, the door had creaked open to reveal an abrupt, red pegasus stallion.  

The door slid opened to reveal a sky-blue pegasus stallion, who smiled down at him and winked.  “Yes?” The question was polite and amiable.  Thade could see that his mark was a locomotive of some kind.

Years ago, Thade had said, “Is... is Laska home, sir?”

Thade said, “Hi.  You must be Laska’s dad.  I’m her friend, Thade.  Could I speak with her, please?”

Years ago, the red pegasus had yelled, “Laska!  Somepony’s here!”  Then he had shut the door.

Laska’s father said, “Of course!  She’s told me about you.  Come on in.”

Thade hadn’t expected to be invited inside, but he stepped across the threshold of the door anyway, into a sunny living room lined with portraits, heirlooms, and flowering wallpaper.

“Take a seat,” the pegasus said, stretching out an arm and warmly indicating one of several chairs.  “She’ll be down in a minute.”

“Oh, that’s okay.  I was actually going to bring her somewhere, if she’s not busy.  I’ll just stand.”

“Suit yourself, lad.  I’ll go get her now.”  He began ascending the stairs, humming lightly to himself.  Thade recognized the tune as an old melody his mother used to sing while putting him to bed.

Alone in the living room (and, though he didn’t know it, humming the tune picked up from Laska’s father), Thade studied the photos and portraits sitting upon the table and lining the walls.  In a black frame nailed to flower-and-petal wallpaper on the wall opposite him he recognized the red pegasus who had opened the door to this same house—or, rather, the version of this house in the previous world.  Uncle Bale, Thade recalled.  The bespectacled pegasus stared out of his frame with indifference.  Directly above his photo was one of Laska and her parents.  It sat in a grey, wooden frame.  In it, a very young Laska (That’s her, he thought.  This is the first time I’ve actually seen her since the day I lost her) lay on the shoulder of the pegasus Thade now knew to be her father.  She beamed out of the photo, and Thade could almost hear her laughter while the blue pegasus (his mane was slightly fuller in the photo) tickled her with a feathery wing.

Looking at that photo, he finally realized that it was over—nearly over.  There was only one thing left to do.  And so when, a few moments later, soft hooffalls on the stairs signaled her approach like trumpets before a procession, he rose from his chair, watched as she appeared into view, a beautiful grey phantom gliding down the stairs.  He locked eyes with hers at last, and what passed between them could only be expressed in a world such as theirs, one where everything is known and all life is connected through the singular experience of death.  After that moment passed, he asked her,

“There’s something I want to show you, if you’ll come with me.”

***

        “Rainbow Dash... I don’t know about this.”

        “Aw, c’mon, Fluttershy!  You can’t sign up for something and not follow through!  Especially the Flyathalon.”

        Fluttershy bit her lip, then glanced nervously at the paper number 19 taped to her flank.   “But Dash... I wasn’t thinking very clearly when I signed up.”  It felt like years had passed since the day she discovered her mother’s Rose was broken, and now she wondered what had been going through her mind when she decided the best way to fix it was to win the Flyathalon’s prize money.

        Only a few clouds away, the other contestants were already lining up, performing wing stretches and sharing some friendly pre-race banter.  The sun was approaching high noon, signaling less than half an hour until the flags dropped and the fliers began the first part of the competition.

        “Rainbow Dash, I can’t compete with them.  They’re like you.  They’re fast.”

A blue pegasus hopped by, giving her a friendly punch to the side as he passed.  “See you out there, Number Nineteen!”

        She squeaked like a dog toy at the contact.  “Uh... you too, Number— ” She squinted at his sticker.  “—Twelve.”

        “See!  There ya go!”  Fluttershy winced as Dash patted her on the back even harder than Number Twelve had punched her.  “There’s some sportsponyship!  See?  It’s all in good fun.  And even if you don’t do well, you’re still helping out Ponyville.  Did you hear that they’ve added a fourth event to the Flyathalon?  It’s a rainstorm contest.  Now that all the burned-down trees from the Everfree Forest have been replanted, they need tons of water to get the seeds to grow.  That’s where we come in!  We—”

        “IT’S HER!”  The shout rang out of a crowd of bystanders; several heads turned in annoyance.  The voice was familiar, though Dash couldn’t quite place it, even after it called out again:  “I told you I met her!  She’ll remember me!  You wait and see!”

        As the voice grew closer, Fluttershy grinned.  “I think I know that voice.  Rainbow Dash’s Number One Fan, right?”

        Now Dash remembered.  She sighed, though her attempt to appear exasperated was rendered useless by the grin growing upon her face.  “Yep.  Just don’t let Scootaloo hear you say that.”

        From nowhere she appeared, beaming, with two other pegasus fillies trailing her, breathless and doubtful.  “See!  It’s her!  I told you!”

        The looks of doubt on her follower’s faces melted away.  “Wow, it really is her!” the red pegasus said.

        Dash rolled her eyes.  “Alright, this is getting ridiculous.  Can’t I have a moment of peace on the day of a race?  Especially the Flyathalon.”  She lifted a small distance off the cloud, circling the three in the air so as to lecture them from all angles.  “Can you three take your adoration somewhere else?  I have a feeling you know Scootaloo—go join the fanclub she started, or something.”  She reached out to Thunder Clap, the obsessed little filly who had given up her place in the Flyathalon to Fluttershy what felt like so long ago, and ruffled her mane.  “But thanks for stopping by.  You can still cheer for me!  Number Fourteen, like usual.”

        Thunder Clap glanced up at Dash indignantly, her mane now a tousled mess.  Her follower-fillies stared at each other in confusion.  “No,” she said with the utmost patience.  “Not you.  Her.  Fluttershy, we are your biggest fans!  Did you really single-hoofedly tackle a powerful dark wizard to the ground?”

The red pegasus stepped in:  “Is it true you stopped the fireballs outside Ponyville simply by staring them down?”

        So did the grey one: “Did you really fly to the Spring of Magic all on your own?”

        “I heard you once defeated a dragon by yelling at it!”

        “Windswirl, that’s ridiculous!  Where did you hear that?”

        “I dunno... it’s just what I heard...”

        “Actually,” Rainbow Dash said, hovering forward and winking at Fluttershy, “she did all those things.  Except she didn’t tackle the wizard to the ground.  She just walked in the room and he surrendered on the spot!  Practically tackled himself.  Pretty impressive, if you ask me.”

        “Oh,” Fluttershy said, knowing she had just been dragged into Dash’s game and had no choice but to play along.  “Yeah.  That’s me.”

        Five minutes later, with three autographs signed and three pegasus fillies fluttering away with glee, Fluttershy turned back to Dash.  “That was... interesting.”

        “Don’t worry about it, Fluttershy.”  She patted the her friend roughly on the head.  “When I win this Flyathalon, ponies will stop talking about you and start talking about me again.  It’s a win-win situation!”

        “It’s not win-win if you lose.  Then it’s... lose-lose.”

        Dash was about to reply when a voice burst out of a nearby PA speaker.  “Fillies and colts, mares and stallions, if you are participating in the Flyathalon, please assemble at the starting line now!”

        Fluttershy seemed to shrink to half her size.  “Dash, I still don’t think...”

But Rainbow Dash was already on her way toward the crowd of pegasi grouped together at the starting line. “C’mon, Fluttershy, or they’ll start without us!”

With a sigh, she lifted herself up off the soft cloud, following her friend’s lead.

Maybe this won’t be so bad, she thought.  Maybe it would be nice to do this kind of thing for a change.  As the starting line grew larger in her vision, she began contemplating upon the past few weeks, the Rose, her parents, Thade.  I might not win, but I can try, I can try.  She thought of the new Rose that sat in a vase in her living room, the one that had grown before her out of dead stone and cold rock.  I guess I won’t be young forever.  Who knows?  This might seem scary now, but it might one day make a cherished memory.  Maybe even a story.  In her mind she saw a field of roses, stretching out forever in every direction, and together with the wind they made a sound and the sound was sssssssshhhh.  She thought, The view from up here is breathtaking.  It just goes on.  She thought of a brown-black figure disappearing into an abyss of white, the words Thank you still echoing in her ears.  She thought, It’s too late to go back now, but I can do my best.  I can try.

Smiling, she drifted toward where her friend awaited her, laughing and calling her name.

.***

        Sssssssshhhhh.

        Two figures, two figures in infinity, like bottles in an ocean or birds in the endless blue of the sky.  A breeze carried red messengers around them and above them, a cool breeze, like the breeze before a spring storm.  The only indication that the world had any end was the faint silhouettes of mountains against the cloud-blue backdrop of the sky.  

Sssssshhhh.

        “This place isn’t any different in this world,” one said.  “It’s exactly as I remember it.”

        “Maybe it is the same,” said the other.  “Maybe this place never changes, not even across worlds.”

        “Maybe.”

        Ssssssssssshhh.

        “If you could go back, would you do anything differently?”

        “I would have waited.  I should have waited.”

        “You should have.”

        “What about you?”

        “I don’t know.  Does it matter?”

        “I’m not sure.  You asked me first.”

        “I wouldn’t have changed anything.”

        “Ok.”   Ssssssssshh.  “I have something for you.  It’s... I know it’s not the same.  It’s not from here.  It’s from somewhere else, given to me by a pegasus who looked like you.  I think a part of her was you.  You don’t have to say anything.  I just want you to have it.”

        “It’s...”

        “You don’t have to say anything.  Just take it.  I know it’s not the same one, it’s not from here, but—”

        She embraced him, holding him close, and soon he held her just as tightly.

        “I never wanted it to happen like it did.  That wasn’t me.”

        “Ssssshhh.  I know it wasn’t.”

        After a quiet moment: “I think we should go soon.”

        “Can’t we stay one more minute?”

        He smiled.  “Yes.  We can stay as long as you’d like.”

***

        She pulled herself against him, feeling the breeze on her face for one last time, not knowing when they’d ever return, but knowing that, with a lifetime ahead of them, every door stood wide open, every gust and moment was theirs.  They would return.

        “Are you holding on?”  He felt her nod.  “Stay close.  Ready?”

        “Yes.”

        He looked around, the field where he had fallen in love, the field where he had lost his way.  “This time, I won’t let you go.”

        “I know.”

        “Ready?  One... two...”

        “Wait.”

        “Yes?”

        “This time, I’ll do this before you need to concentrate.”

The wind sang in the field of Sonselo as the two shared their second kiss, every bit as sweet and inexperienced as the first, every bit as intimate.

This is why I did it.  This is what I lost and couldn’t find, what I forgot, like a song whose lyrics you used to know but can no longer recall when it comes time to sing.  The more I searched for it, the farther it became, because I looked in the wrong direction.  And it was here the whole time—the whole time.

“Ready now?”

“Yes.”

I could have waited.  She would have.  I could have lived for us both; instead I fell, too.  But I’m here now.  And so is she.  We made it.

“One... two... three.”

        Sssssshhhhh.....

* The End *

Dedicated to Kurbz and Seattle_Light

UPDATE Oct 2012 -- The sequel to this story, Nova, has begun.  Check my page to find it.

and anyone else who helped me get through this,

and especially you, for reading and maybe even leaving feedback, and for being genuinely awesome.

Written Aug ‘11 - Apr ‘12

My overly-dramatic thank you to my readers

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