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He hadn't known what to expect, but then, who did when it came to death?
There was one thing he'd been certain of, one thing he had known would be there, and so she was, her hand warm in his. It was like nothing had changed, though of course everything had. They hadn't planned it this way, to cross the veil together, but nor were they surprised that that was how it happened.
At least he wasn't. When he married her, accepting all that came with joining the Silver Millennium family, his spirit had been subsumed under hers. He belonged to her forever, and where she went, he must go too.
Distantly he spared a thought for Small Lady, and the pain he knew she would feel from losing both her parents at the same time. She likely would be no more surprised than he, but that didn't mean it would lessen her grief.
I love you, dear daughter. He sent the fervent thought out into the ether that surrounded him, hoping it would find its way to his cherished only child. I pray you find your forever happiness, and do not grieve for us too much. We are never far away.
Was that true? It was a little too soon to tell.
He turned to his love beside him, marveling that the hand tucked trustingly in his would feel the same as when they'd been corporeal. She smiled back at him, her face a pure, radiant light, and he knew what she was thinking without her needing to say or do anything else because they were one.
She too was glad they were together.
He squeezed her hand affectionately, then looked out at the vast empty space around them, a plane of shimmering deep violet and indigo. Whatever was beneath their feet felt solid enough, like normal ground, but when he looked down, all he saw was empty air. If he'd still had a physical body, he probably would have been struck by severe vertigo. Instead, he pushed down gingerly and met resistance. Whatever it was they stood on, it was completely invisible, edgeless and endless, as insubstantial as it was strong.
Was it the veil?
He glanced back up at Serenity, puzzled as to what they were supposed to do now, and judging from her expression, she didn't seem to know either. His second look at the expansive nothingness around them was more thorough and more sweeping, and when he still felt at a complete loss, he decided to just try stepping forward, or at least in a direction that was as likely to be "forward" as any other.
He didn't move. He tried again, then again in a slightly different direction, but the effect was the same each time. He stayed exactly where he was.
Is that the right way?
The question in Serenity's mind hadn't been aimed at him exactly, but he heard it nonetheless, and when he did, he realized what the problem was. In this realm, free of their physical forms, they were more tightly intertwined than ever. There was nothing he could do without her will and vice versa. She had been doubtful of the way he'd tried to go, and so he could not proceed.
Is there a right way? he countered gently, and her answering frown seemed to imply it was his fault that she didn't know. He was abruptly pulled closer to her, like the end of a magnet whipping towards its polar mate. If he'd had his body still, he would have stumbled from the force.
Nothing can separate us now, he reassured her, and made the warmth of his hand surpass hers. I am one with you.
All the more reason to make sure it's the right way.
He burst out laughing, and that's how they learned that here, laughter wasn't just a sound, but also a brightening of the whole landscape. The colors flashed with gentle pulses in time with his amusement, and even the floor changed, developing a bright gleam until it was a perfect mirror of the shimmering air above with a little extra glow. Serenity watched the light show in wonder, then began giggling, which set off more pulses in the air.
This is weird.
He moved to embrace her and was delighted to find he could wrap around her in a way far more complete and satisfying than his physical body could have ever done. She sighed contentedly, snuggling right back against him, and he held her even tighter. He was so very, very glad they were together.
Thus entwined, they drifted along, not caring anymore which direction they were going. Every direction was eventually the same here in eternity, and no moment was more or less precious than any other. They could spend every one of them holding each other like this if they wished, and it would make no difference. This was peace, and it was purer and deeper than he could have ever imagined it.
Mamoru.
The name rang out across the ether, clear but gentle, and strangely foreign, as if he'd forgotten it was his. He paid it little mind at first, thinking only how unexpected it was that anyone would be calling out for anyone else here. That mild pique, which almost disappeared as soon as it began because he was so content, quickly erupted into alarm when he realized he hadn't recognized his own name.
He looked at Serenity, half-hoping it had been her who called him, but of course it wasn't. For one, she had no reason to since she was right there beside him, and two, she never called him by his given name.
She seemed as puzzled as he was and less alarmed, but this was quickly belied when she pulled him towards her again, less sharply than before, but he suspected it was still an instinct she hadn't mastered yet.
Who is that? she asked.
He thought she meant the mysterious voice, but then she turned him so he could see what she was looking at, two shapes in the mist that were gradually coming closer. They were identical at first, but as they neared, one became taller, and the other actually became smaller despite the increased proximity. The two stayed close together much like he and Serenity had done, and perhaps it was that symmetry that made him feel like they weren't a threat. There was no way to be sure, but it was hard to fathom that anything could hurt them here.
Should you answer them? Serenity prodded when he didn't reply.
This time it was he who drew her closer, a slight tightening of his embrace, and a subtle shift to the left to put himself between her and the approaching strangers. I don't know.
They ended up watching and waiting in silence for a bit longer, and it occurred to him that, because these other two were moving so slowly, perhaps they hadn't seen him so much as they were trying to find him in the mist.
He decided to take the risk and called out, "Who are you?"
The two shapes clearly paused, then began moving more determinedly, confirming his suspicion that they had indeed been searching blind.
The smaller of the two materialized into sight first, a woman with dark hair in a bun that was a striking contrast above her moon-pale face. It was a kind face, smooth and open, more young than old though truly she looked neither. She looked at him with eyes that were both shy and hopeful.
Eyes that were the exact same shade of blue as his.
The man that emerged beside her had even darker hair, full on both his head and his brow, and aside from his mustache, he had the same nose and jaw that Mamoru saw every morning when he looked in the mirror.
Mamoru felt something inside of him crack, a hairline fissure erupting in the part of his heart that had laid empty and sealed and mostly forgotten for a long time.
He had no memory of these faces, but was acutely aware that he should have. They were stamped on his own body, the very shape of his gift of life. To look at them and not feel even a shred of recognition was more disquieting than he would have guessed it would be.
Still, he couldn't look away. He stared back, drinking in every detail because it was so strange to be able to see them this clearly, this wholly, and not just in a faded picture. And because he no longer had a need to blink, no matter how long he stared, they never wavered in his sight, nor did they fade like in his dreams.
Would they stay this time and not leave him?
The woman met his stricken gaze, blue on blue, and spoke with cautious affection. "How handsome you've grown up to be."
The fissure in his chest cracked a little more. How was it possible for her voice to sound familiar, as if there were any chance he actually remembered it? He had to be mistaken, and what seemed like memory was just hope, hot and painful as it started to bubble up through the tear in his heart.
He pushed down hard against it, fighting to keep it from growing and to keep the leak from getting worse. Dimly he was aware that he'd begun shaking his head senselessly, his instinctual denial overcoming his natural stillness.
Then the man spoke, more softly than the woman and just a single word, "Son."
And Mamoru broke.
The fracture in his heart split wide open, and the hot feeling that spilled out consumed him in a single blinding torrent. The glass floor of eternity fell away, and Serenity's warmth disappeared as he ignited and became a star, a nova blazing with the grief and loneliness he'd thought had become impotent, pressed beneath the weight and distance of a thousand years. But he was wrong, those feelings were as powerful as ever, and their sudden release sent him hurtling back to the beginning, to the frightened, aching soul of a little boy who had been left to face the world on his own.
A little boy who, on this day, was finally returned to his parents' arms.
They held him tightly as he burned, unaffected by, or perhaps determined to bear, his fire. His mother somehow was able to hold all of him in her arms, and his father's embrace encircled them both, his hand resting reassuringly on Mamoru's back. As Mamoru sobbed into his mother's shoulder, he began to understand the necessity of this, of why old wounds had to be reopened. The only way to be healed of his pain was to let it rage.
With his parents there to give him absolution, he set eternity alight with the force of his anguish. Hotter and hotter the nova burned so that it might at last burn itself out.
"Mama! Papa!"