"Dad? Dad! Are you-"
"Oh god, do you think-"
"Frank? Can you hear us?"
It sounds like the words are being shouted down a very long tunnel. They echo, and reverberate, and the distant drum of noise is almost painful.
As much as I want to reach back, I don't know that the dark will let me.
It's not darkness, but more an absence of light. There's a difference, I think. I never thought that before this moment. Night happens when you take away the sun, but this place feels like it's never had a sun at all. Like the darkness is old, and alive, and aware.
I try to linger, try to comfort my family; I want a final moment to tell them that I'm okay. But the darkness presses in, and holds me firm, and nudges me onwards. Less like a straightjacket and more like being tangled in a blanket. A little irritating, still constricting, but it doesn't suffocate.
There's no fear. Not in this place, and not in me.
My body does not ache the way it did.
Maybe they've given me a different medication. Maybe this is morphine, or something stronger. I know I've been in pain for a while, but I wanted my wits about me.
I force my eyes open to ask the question.
The world turns to golden light.
The glare is shocking, searing, and my eyes slam shut. I squeeze until the white spots have stopped pulsing behind my lids, and then I try again. Lift my hand to block the full force of it, easing my palm down in increments.
The light is the sun.
I don't... I'm not sure where I am.
It looks like a hall of some kind. Polished oak floors, massive floor to ceiling windows. The huge double doors are thrown wide, and there is a gentle breeze to cool my heated skin. The sun leaves bronze streaks in the air, like far-off beams from a distant lighthouse.
I'm curled on the floor, I realise.
My wince is automatic as I unfurl and sit up, and I expect my body to protest and crunch, but the movement is easy. Frowning, I roll to my knees - no pain - and up onto my feet. It takes no time and no effort.
It looks like a ballroom, I decide.
The sprawling windows jog a distant memory, but the images are unfinished. Half-formed. The sun is hitting the space exactly as it did the first time I saw it-
The open doors beckon.
Lush green grass welcomes me to the wider world. The garden is... It is spectacular.
The cloying scent of honey accosts me first. Next is the roses, and the lavender, and the jasmine.
The place is overflowing with flowers, with bushes, with avenues of plants overflowing with greenery. There is every shade of colour, and every plant is the best, the biggest, the most healthiest version of itself. I've never seen roses so scarlet, nor bundles of lavender that stand so high. The lilies are as big as dinner plates, the sunflowers even bigger than that.
Smooth slate carves a natural path through the riot of colour and smell.
I don't even hesitate to walk that path. Maybe that's silly of me; anything could be waiting in this unfamiliar territory. I should know better.
But danger couldn't possibly linger here.
Slate gives way to emerald green grass, and I stop at the edge of the wide open field.
To my left, the field and the garden lose ground to a river. It boasts no real force or effort, it's current lazy enough that it doesn't disturb the sandy bed. It's wide, but shallow. That, or the water is so clear it's lying to me about it's depths. Either could be true.
And the field is more moss and heather than it is long grass. It is sweet and fragrant, and the most delicate shades of purple I've ever seen.
But at the far end of the field, nearer the river, looks to be a table. And at the table is a person.
They have very long, very dark hair, and pale skin. Even from here, they seem to shine. Like a far-off, distant star.
My feet are moving before I give them permission to do so.
Heart in my throat, breath heavy in my ears, I break into a run. I can't remember the last time I ran anywhere - a long time ago. I thought I'd forgotten how. But my feet and thighs remember, and my heart keeps up with the sudden movement.
It's a good job this field was not made of nettles and thorns.
Truth be told, it could have been made of broken glass and I'd have still ran over it.
The plush greenery starts to give way to silky sand, and the table is set at the edge and beginning of both. It's balanced perfectly, covered over with white netting. There are two chairs, and two place settings.
I'm distracted, for a very brief moment, by the bizarre array of food. It's a sprawling feast; totally foreign in this natural environment. There are oily pastries, and colourful cakes, dewy piles of freshly diced fruit, boards of meats and cheeses. Pots of tea and jugs of juice. It looks like the Mad Hatter's been decorating.
But none of that matters. It's a fleeting glance.
Because it seems I'm expected. It seems someone is waiting for me.
I can't breathe.
"Hello," she says, and I almost go to my knees.
Her skin shines like a pearl in moonlight. Pure white and glossy, totally unblemished. Her hair is a cascade of rich chocolate, run through with strands of gold and mahogany and caramel. It falls in gentle waves well past her waist. She's wearing a simple grey dress, which reveals the curves of her shoulders, and the swells of her biceps.
And... Selfishly, I'm glad that she does not look perfect. She is otherworldly, stunning, enough to take my breath away. But there are silver scars on her knuckles, and her arms, and on the line of her jaw, and above her eyebrow. There is the shift of strong muscle beneath her flesh. She's as I remember her; healed, and healthy, but she has not been scrubbed clean of her life.
There is one difference.
I said goodbye to her while looking into eyes of crystal blue. It had been an unnatural colour; too bright, too clear.
She looks up at me now with eyes as dark as coffee. They are deepest umber, almost black in this light. I prefer them.
I'm gaping, I know. I'm frozen. I cannot approach and I cannot back away.
She bites her lip and looks down at her empty plate. Her dark eyebrows crinkle; she's uncertain.
"Am I dead?" I planned on saying other words first, but the question bubbles up and out.
"Nah." A small smile, and I'm so distracted that I barely hear her. "You've just de-aged by a couple of decades, and I've been dug up, pumped full of blood, and brought back to life. Frankenstein-style."
I narrow my eyes, and that smile brightens to a laugh. Maybe I'm going batshit crazy, but it seems her skin glows a little brighter at the sound.
"So I did, in fact... Die?" Because this cannot be real.
Her smile dies, and her skin dulls. "It was painless. And quick. Not many get that privilege."
"I know." I murmur, thinking of her last few moments. She had been crying, and weak, and confused, at the end. I've never been able to forget it. "Were you... Did you see?"
"I did."
"Have you been... Can you see from here? Have you been watching?" I don't know how I want her to answer. Both options are heart-breaking. If she says no, she's missed so much. If she says yes, she's been shut out for an entire lifetime.
"Some of it." Her smile is a little sad, but her eyes are warm and full of joy. "You've left so much happiness behind you, Frank. I'm so proud of you. You didn't waste any of it."
My heart swells, and my chest aches, because that was the goal. All I ever wanted was to live up to the gift she'd given me. To honour her.
"You missed out." I say, and sound choked.
"Please don't think of it that way," She shakes her head, and looks at me with nothing short of tenderness. "Some people aren't meant for that. Some people end up exactly where they're supposed to be; good or bad. Call it fate, call it bad luck - I was supposed to die like that, at that time. I've made peace with it."
"It's still not fair." I scowl, petulant. I don't care if she was put on Earth for the simple goal of saving it. She died too young, too quickly. She was taken from me, and that's not fair.
"I was compensated fairly." She shrugs one careless shoulder.
"With this garden?"
She snorts, "With you, idiot. I got to love you while I was alive. That was enough for me."
I ache to reach for her, but it's been so long, and there's so much to say. We've been apart for far longer than we were together, for longer than she was even alive. I don't know where I stand.
"Have you been with your family?" I check gently.
Her glow dims again, "They're waiting for me."
"You..." I tilt my head, "They're not here?"
"No. They moved on. I stayed behind."
My frown deepens, "Why would you do that?"
"You don't get to look back once you go on to the next place. I had too many reasons to linger."
"Nevaeh," I say, and relish the taste of her name in my mouth again. Despite the fact I sound mildly annoyed, and wholly disapproving, it still sounds like a lament. "Please don't tell me you've been alone all this time. Waiting for me."
Her cheeks turn a shiny shade of coral pink; "Not just you. Alissa stayed for a while, and so did Ray. Kyle too, he stayed longest, and Pandora arrived and never left; she's on the moorland if you want to see her."
"I'd have found you," I insist, "Whether you were here or in... In the next place. You could have gone to your family."
"I wanted to watch the world heal, Frank. It wasn't just you, honest. I wanted to watch them rebuild, make sure they kept their promise. Glancing in on your life was an occasional indulgence."
I believe this reasoning; it's very typical of her.
"And I suppose you only occasionally looked in when they named a new university after you... Or made you a Dame... Or, ya know, awarded you the Nobel Peace prize."
"I'm a Dame?" She demands, as if she's surprised.
"Smartass." I mutter, and she beams. Her silvery glow brightens until I have to blink against it.
"I didn't know I was going to be famous." She says, wrinkling her nose. "That's not why I did it. I mean... It's nice that people were grateful, but-"
"I know." I grin, "I'm glad the world reacted like it did. Yeah, the statues and the adoration irritated me. But I wouldn't have been able to stand it if they'd forgotten your name."
She smiles again, "Thank you. For... For protecting my memory the way you did. As fiercely as you did. My books, my life... Saying no to all those film ideas."
I roll my eyes, "Now that I'm gone, they'll probably start making shit movies about you. I held them off for as long as I could."
"I'm grateful."
We smile at each other for a long moment. It feels comfortable. Feels... Natural. There is no strain, no awkwardness, no hesitation. Maybe she wouldn't mind being touched by me. I'm certainly feeling starved, standing so close but holding myself at a distance, like a weirdo.
"Did it hurt?"
She frowns, and I suppose there are a dozen things I could be talking about. Did her death hurt? Did being here, alone, hurt her? Did she have to live with all those rotten memories from her life?
"Watching, I mean." I explain, and wring my hands. For the first time, I notice there are no wrinkles. My skin is smooth, my tattoos vibrant. I wrench my gaze back up to look at her. "Watching me live without you. I didn't... Did I hurt you?"
Her expression gutters, like a candle flame struggling against a breeze. She's confused then astounded.
"Of course not." She breathes, "Of course not, Frank. I didn't expect you to mourn me forever."
"I held onto you, Nevaeh-"
"Longer than you should have." Her scowl is fierce, and exactly as I remember it. The anger on her face is a welcome sight; a balm I've been yearning after for too long. "Made a right mess of things for those first ten years, Frank-"
"How could I not have, when I was missing you so much?" I try to defend myself.
Her scowl eases, but does not disappear. "I suppose the alternative would have been worse. Watching you move on quickly, watching you forget me. I didn't want you to suffer, obviously, but... I'd have been a little angry, I guess."
I try not to grin, fail miserably.
"But no," She says, reminding me of my question. "The rest of it didn't hurt. I was glad; that you'd found someone. That you were... I was happy that you were happy."
I wonder if I'd have felt the same, if our roles had been reversed. If I could have stomached watching her love another man. Live with him. Have his children. I wouldn't have wanted her to miss out, of course, but I can't honestly say that I wouldn't have felt jealous. Felt awful. Felt left behind and shut out, in some ways. Like I was watching through a barred window.
"Jeez, Nevaeh. I'm sorry anyway. Sorry you missed out - that you didn't get any of it."
"Stop it," She insists, shaking her head vigorously, "It's okay, Frank. I'm not-"
"I don't care." My feet wake up, my hands will not be denied any longer. I round the stable and kneel at her feet in the sand. She twists with me, so her face is over mine and her knees level with my chest. "I don't care that you managed to somehow be okay. I'm fucking sorry. Sorry that I didn't get to do it with you."
Her eyes are lined with silver tears.
Reaching for her is the easiest thing I've ever done.
My palms slide against her knees. My fingers grasp at her thighs. Her flesh is warm and firm; solid muscle underlying a plush layer of doughy fat. Now that I've touched her, I cannot stop. I'm too greedy, too starved for that. One hand slides up to grip the dramatic swell of her hip. The other lifts to her face, to cup her cheek.
"I'm sorry I left you." She murmurs, and tears slide over her angular cheekbones to wet the tips of my fingers.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to join you." I choke out, because I am. If I'd have known... Well, it's a good job I didn't know she was right here. Those first few months after she'd died, when the pain of her loss was at it's height... I wouldn't have been strong enough.
"You had good reasons to stay."
I did. Rebuilding the world, my friends, my family, the music. All good reasons to live.
None of it would have happened without her.
Not just because she'd died so that we could have the cure. But because... I only put effort into life because I was afraid of wasting that gift. I hadn't wanted to let her down. I didn't want to end up here, with her again, with nothing to show for it.
So I'd said goodbye to Nevaeh, and I'd chosen to love another woman.
I can't regret that decision, because of the family I'd made, but... I'd never been able to let Nevaeh go. Not really.
"I missed you," I need her to know, desperately. "I never stopped missing you, Nevaeh. You know that, right? I never loved anyone as much as I loved you."
Her smile is sad and her tears make my stomach ache.
"I know that," She says, "I wouldn't have been able to look back if you hadn't wanted me to. Once they say goodbye, and mean it, they're lost to you."
Maybe I should have meant it. Perhaps that would have killed me.
"Do we... Do we move on now?" My voice is quiet, unsure. "Together?"
Her dark eyebrows flick up, "I don't mind waiting."
"What for?"
"For..." Her head drops to one side, but my hand stays firmly against her cheek. I can't bear to let her go now. "For your wife."
Guilt. Guilt so strong and so forceful it crushes my organs. Of course that's what she's thinking about; she's a better person than me. And while she might have been able to follow my life, she didn't have access to my inner thoughts. She's watched me love someone else for decades, but she doesn't know how often I thought of her. I'd done my best to hide my love for Nevaeh, but my wife had always known that she was only getting pieces of my heart. And it's awful of me, but there's... There's no question. I loved Nevaeh first.
"I spent a lifetime with her," I say, very firmly. "I'm going to spend forever with you."
Nevaeh glitters like a newly formed star.
"Are you sure?" She demands, but her hands have encircled my wrists, and slid down my forearms, and squeeze at my shoulders. "I don't-... It's really okay if we-"
"Stop it, Nevaeh." I give her head a little shake, to wake her up to the obvious. "I love you."
Her hands slide up to my face. Her fingertips explore the lines of my jaw, and my cheekbones, and my temples. Her grip is strong and her movement is sure as she pulls me in.
And as her mouth covers mine, I feel something in my chest shift. Something important.
It must be my whole heart, reclaiming the pieces she stole.
"I love you," She whispers against my mouth, and my throat, and my chest, and my palms. She paints the words onto my flesh, but she doesn't need to. They've always been true.
The sun warms our skin, and stars glitter in the sky, and there is peace in the space between our bodies.
We're both where we're meant to be.