THE BLACK PARADE.

THE END.

The Black Parade was in ruins.

There at the path the stage took was billions of tiny pieces of everything that came with the Parade. Its shards a painful reminder of what happened. The tiny pieces now scattered with no means of getting back together, no reason of getting back together. Like a fleeting memory long forgotten -discarded through the profound abyss of time and space.

A woman and a man stood in between the chaos and the nothingness of the rest of Purgatory. The stand there, in front of each other. But they're not calculating each other in a fight, no. They stand there, at the stage. The man wearing the black outfit of the Black Parade and nothing else -all was taken from him, forced from him. The woman, with her hair dancing almost whimsically along the light breeze of the wretched land and a hand placed endearingly over the man's cheek, spoke:

"There's nothing left for you here, my love. Why would you ever want to go back?" she asked, her sweet voice echoing in the man's ears as if her voice was the only thing that was left to be heard in the place.

Perhaps it was, except there goes the distant drums still beating somewhere in the remains of the Black Parade. Her piercing blue eyes looked into his hazel ones quizzically. The man turned his head away, averting his eyes to the remains of the fallen parade.

"That's where you're wrong," he said quietly, "I left my brother there. My mother too. And there's something else pulling me -reaching for me. I don't know yet, but I feel like I need to follow it..." the man paused, "somewhere..." he trailed off.

The man returns the woman's gaze, "I need to know..." he said, almost pleadingly, his dead eyes in a longing state. As hard as it is to say goodbye to the woman, the urge to go back still overcomes any second thoughts. It was like a lost memory, and maybe-just maybe, it actually is. But that memory could be waiting, he thought. It could still be up there, maybe, just maybe there's so much more than that. And he could still live a life.

He knows he could. But some thoughts were blocking that reassurance in the back of his mind. It's fighting to be remembered though. It's resisting.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I still don't know. But they're the ones I need to go back to." he said.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"Very well..." her sweet voice cooed. It was hard for her to do it; to bring him back but that's what he wants, and because she loves him all so much -all too much, she'll grant his wish again. Even if it's the last thing he'll ever see her do so.

"Take my hand then." she instructed firmly, holding her palms out. The man looked at her, confused but he didn't ask why. As he reached out for her pale hands, she suddenly flinched it back to her sides.

"Once, you take my hand, my love. You'll never see me again." she whispered but loud enough for him to hear.

"Of course I will. Don't you believe in Heaven?" he said, giving out a small smile.

She smiled back, but it was a sad one.

Sad because she knows it's impossible.

Sad because she knows she's stuck there.

Sad because she can't tell him, but she doesn't want to hold him back from what he wants.

He then pulled her close into an endearing hug, she squeezed him back.They were silent for a moment. Taking in the last moment they will see each other for a long time, in the man's perspective anyway. But far longer and probably never again for her.

"Remember me, okay..?" she said, her voice quavering.

So long, my love.. she thought, all to herself.

"Okay."

She held out her hands. Smiling up at him, her eyes told him that it's okay to go now.

Before he reached for her hands, he leaned in and kissed her forehead sweetly.

he closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, Helena." he whispered.

and with that, he took her hand. Then all went black.