LAND HOOOOOOO

"It's... kinda dumb that it took us so long, huh?"

He tucks his head a little sheepishly, feeling everything rush back over him all at once. It makes perfect sense though now, doesn't it? Why he would spend years trying to seek her out while she was dying. Why he would give anything and everything up to bring her back, to make this world for the two of them.

She's always been his everything. In every version of life they've shared together, she's been worth sacrificing everything for. She's been the point of it all, the only meaning behind anything, behind everything. Somewhere deep in his subconscious, he must have known it all along.

But it still feels unreal that it's taken them thousands of years here to dig to that deeper truth. How long have they remembered that opera house? A deep, foundational memory for them both- so much so that he'd recreated it here, that they've lived on its rooftop terrace since the beginning, explored the back passageways he'd recreated over and over. But to only now, for the first time, remember what this place truly means to them.

And then, another sudden thought: that damn fox.

Nameless had been behind it all from the very start, from the second he'd first met the shifty little creature, whacking its tail in his face, to just the other day when he'd torn their terrace apart trying to throw the two of them together finally.

"You think he did all this on purpose?"

Shand doesn't mention him by name, but he's sure Luna knows what he means. They've been connected by their dreams, by their minds, for half of forever, but they've been connected by even more all this time. That makes all the sense in the world.

And now even, something else springs to memory. When she'd been up in that cave, after that fight they'd had. After his hours drinking alone in that beach hut. Sabina had been there, pulled herself out of the deepest recesses of Shand's brain to fix what seemed like it could never be put back together. What had she said? She'd made the two of them seem... necessary. Vital.

Suddenly, things feel even bigger, even deeper than they're probing now. Much more than they've just started to realize.

"He does everything on purpose."

Luna laughs a little, turning herself from him a bit to try to subtly wipe at her eyes. Not that it matters, he probably already saw them watering up and her hands are soaked with the bath water that she just gets more of her face wet. Maybe this water will mask some of the tears.

Besides, he's not crying, there's no point in her doing so.

Actually, something in his tone seems to shift with the mention of Nameless. Something that has her looking back to him with an eyebrow arched, trying to figure out what he's thinking.

In the process of doing so, her own thoughts start rolling. If Nameless took their memories... Why them specifically? And which ones? It's not like they didn't remember each other at all, clearly, but which ones did he try to cover up? It seems like most gaps, now that they're trying to piece memories together, revolve around some form of romance.

... Why? What good would that serve Nameless? No, it's not what good it would serve him specifically, that's not how Nameless operated back then. It's what would that serve the greater good? What had to happen for the actual worlds and realities everyone was from that her memories of being in love with Shand would ruin?

A different thought pops into her mind further down that train of thought, something that has her scooting closer to him in the bathtub, bringing them back together so that they can touch and be pressed close yet again.

"... It couldn't have been just us... Right? Do you think he did something like this to everyone?"

Her eyes flick up to scan his face, rest on his eyes so they can share some sort of gaze as they try to find the answers to all of this together the best they can.

"I... I don't know."

She scoots closer to him and he just mirrors her actions without thinking about it, a natural extension of her. Their legs are both pulled into their chests, so their knees press against each others the closer the get, and Shand reaches around to find her hands, pulls them so he can hold both across his knees.

"I mean, Pops and Trita didn't miss a beat. They were together, even after it ended. So I don't know if they count or not..."

His eyes flick up to the ceiling as he tries to think, mentally card through all the examples he has to pull from, faces he's seen in the last few days that he can use as a reference.

"There was... Kvanne and Yvaine, Lunath, Lance, I don't remember if either of them-"

A blank look comes over Shand's face, followed by some draining of the color.

"I forgot them. I didn't bring everyone back."

His shoulders fall a bit, hunch some. There had been so much happening, and the process of it all had been so tiring. Even now, he can feel exhaustion wash over him from everything that has been going on. But still, even in the middle of that, he'd left something undone.

"I've gotta find everyone else. Do you... do you think they miss each other? Do you think they remember, or Nameless made them forget, too? I just... I can't see the point in making everyone forget. I can't see the point in making us forget."

Granted, Nameless tends to get Shand's ire up more often now that not, so the thought that all of this way packed away in their minds for millennia, precious, sweet things that he wouldn't trade for anything now that he knows he has them. That makes his blood boil a little bit.

"I kind of want to kill him."

"I understand... But I'd appreciate if you didn't. I kind of did that once myself and it's been a constant demon in my nightmares ever since."

Despite the dark topic that nightmares are for them, Luna smiles, taking her hands from his to pull his face down from looking at the ceiling. Shand blinks at her, his cheeks tinting a light pink color from her intent focus on him.

More often than not, he looks like a small child when he's trying to handle getting this much attention. It's maybe one of the most endearing things about him. Of course, he probably wouldn't see it that way, would just get more embarrassed by her bringing it up, so she decides to keep that thought to herself.

"There's all the time in the world to bring the others back. Rest today, work on who we're missing tomorrow, okay? Even you need a break."

The thought of relaxing the rest of the day makes her eyes shift up to his hair where suds and bubbles keep threatening to fall off the ends of locks she clumped together while teasing and playing with it.

She reaches for the bowl again but feels him flinch in front of her which gets a loud laugh out of her, one she tries to stifle so he doesn't think she's getting amusement out of his knee-jerk fear.

"No, no, stop, I'm not going to spit water at you again. I just need to rinse your hair. That's part of this whole washing process."

The bowl is filled back up by the time she finishes explaining but she still pauses, waiting for him to respond. He seems to acknowledge what she's saying so she leans back against the wall again, pulling him with her so the back of his head is to her chest. It takes some shuffling around to get him positioned with his head leaned back to keep the soap from falling in his face, but they finally get it.

Still, she takes it upon herself to keep her hand at his hairline on his forehead to catch the suds she can as she starts pouring the water over his hair, feeling the bubbles rolls from his head down her chest and back into the tub.

"Tomorrow is another day. If anyone gets upset with you for needing a break, they can answer to me, okay?"

Tension melts away when he leans against her, like it always has. Like somehow his body has always known that she was his home, just hadn't decided to make that information readily available in his consciousness.

He turns his head a little so he can feel a bit of her skin on his and it hits him again how crazy it is that they haven't been doing this all along. That they'd been meant for this, and somehow kept themselves from it for all this time. No wonder the memories had come back. Maybe that had never been part of the plan. Maybe it had just been desperation on Nameless's part.

"See, the funny thing is... all those memories, all the dreams I would have. Each time I could remember you telling me you loved me, each first kiss. It all felt... forbidden, in this way that I desperately wanted, and I hated myself for that. I thought you'd think I was gross, or creepy, or. That you wouldn't feel like that."

Every stroke of her hands through his hair, every gentle brush across his head reminds him that this is real. It's not a dream, and none of the dreams had been dreams either. It had taken him lifetime after lifetime, but this is actually the realist thing he's ever known.

"And then when. On the terrace, when we got in that huge fight. When we both said it. It was that same feeling, but. It felt like something I'd been hungry for this whole time. Like I'd been starving for it but it still felt like it had to be wrong somehow. Because I had memories of hurting you, too. Dreams of you crying and dreams of us pushing each other away and fights and... It felt more like one of those dreams I have where I can tell something's going to die. And I didn't want that to be us."

His breath feels a little shallow in his chest and he just wants to curl up into her. He won't have to relive this feeling again, all he has to do is lay back against her from now on to remind himself that he'll always be home.

"God, I love you. I love you. I don't think I could say anything, ever, that I mean more than that. You've always been everything."

"Correct me if I'm wrong..."

Luna smiles just at feeling him relax so much against her, feeling him ease into this way of life, melt into her. This is how she's always wanted him to be, the way she's always wanted to see him live. It's wonderful and relaxes just by proximity, like as long as he's happy, she will be, too.

"But we hurt each other. You hurt me, I hurt you, that's sort of part of the whole relationship gig. But we always figured it out, found our way back to each other."

The immediate change in texture of his hair now that it's clean from sweat, from all the things they had been doing for hours to and with each other, and how it slides between her fingers like silk is wonderful. She could get used to this, do this all day.

The thought makes her jealous of her past self... Selves? Either or, but she's incredibly jealous of them. They had this for their lifetimes, just this easy being with him and they got to keep it to themselves. She had to wait thousands of years for this and then the whole process of finally getting it had been messy to top it all off.

But, maybe the most important part is now she has it, just as much as she had before. Maybe even more because she remembers all the other versions of this and everything feels complete again.

"Okay, do you think you know how to wash hair now?"

Giving his one last final rinse, she grabs the shampoo bottle back up and holds it out in front of his face, waving it back and forth a bit much like she's holding a toy out for a cat.

"Whenever you're ready, it's my turn. Unfortunately, you have the harder job because my hair is... A lot."

Her eyes scan the water of the tub and how nearly all of it around them is just purple, her long locks flowing freely across both their bodies as if it's the water itself.

"Well... at least most of it is already wet, huh?"

He finds a slow grin spreading across his face just watching the smile on hers. All of it just feels right. Everything they'd been through across all these worlds, for it all to culminate here, in this bathtub, with washing each others' hair. They've done the grandest things together, the hardest, and the most simple. Everything life has to offer, they've gotten through it together.

He takes the shampoo bottle from her hesitantly, more because he's looking around them and trying to come up with some form of game plan as to how to tackle all the hair. Granted, he hadn't been paying the best attention when she'd washed his hair. He'd kind of slept through most of it. But he's determined to try his best anyway.

He flips open the cap and looks at it for a moment before holding it out above her head and squeezing. A large stream of the clear shampoo squirts out, and he keeps squeezing until a tall pile of it has formed on top of her head.

"So you... you got any insider's tips for me? Like do you do it in batches? Or like sections? I'm kind of rethinking my whole stance on you cutting your hair right now."

She starts to get an excited look on her face before he frowns deeply, all teasing and toying and she smacks his leg gently as he starts to work the shampoo into her hair at the top. There's much more shampoo than he bargained for, than is needed for what he's currently washing now, so once he's got as much worked in as he can, he starts gathering up all the hair around them, laying it across his knees to get it all in one place.

One particular long, thin strand he holds up across his face, under his nose, and makes a ridiculous, austere looking expression.

"Hmm. I think I'd look okay with purple hair, yeah? If we had a kid, you think it would have hair like yours? I'd be down for that."

Luna grins once he starts playing with her hair, bringing it up to his face like a mustache. Honestly, the man makes any color work, unnatural purple or otherwise. It's a bit unfair because she's always disliked her hair.

It stands out too much in a crowd, people were and are always staring. It's made her an easy target more times than she can count. But here comes Shand, twirling it around like he's completely ready for the challenge and would happily accept it-

"K-Kid?"

But the moment is quickly dashed. Quickly and painfully dashed. He's smiling away, talking about this small little person, this child between the two of them, with playful fondness.

It makes her heart break. Shatter. Scatter across the floor, leaving her with this empty, hollow feeling of failure and disappointment.

"You... Um. You want children?"

She tries to keep her tone light, or light as can be in this moment as everything comes crashing down around her, slicing her open in every way on the way down.

In all her memories of the other worlds that she can pull from, they never talked about children. They've never talked about children here either, though that makes more sense since they've only "recently" become a thing here.

Maybe she always assumed he didn't want any in those worlds? Or maybe and, more likely, those versions of herself didn't remember who exactly she was, where she came from.

What she'd been through.

Luna isn't against kids, in fact she's always wanted to be a mother deep down, do things right, differently than her own... But she always also knew that was a fantasy more than a dream. A harsh reality she never thought she'd have to explain or face but now she's here with Shand and they're... It would only make sense to think about that, wouldn't it?

But she wasn't prepared to handle this today.

Maybe he said it as an off-handed comment, nothing serious in his tone. Maybe she doesn't actually have to deal with this topic today.

But she has to make sure, it's only fair to him. She'd be dragging him down if his answer is serious, he deserves to know.

"Shand. Seriously... Do... Do you want kids?"

The lump in her throat is hard to ignore as she looks at him, trying to ignore a thought, an image, creeping up on her, preparing to strike and beat her down, all hinging on his response.

He leans back a little to watch her expression morph, and it pulls his mouth into a frown with it.

"Hey, no, I mean. I don't know."

He shrugs, trying to keep things light even though he can tell from her tone and her face, how she diverts her gaze, that the mood has shifted dramatically. He keeps massaging the shampoo down from the top of her head into sections of her hair, piling the finished work up on top of her head for as long as the huge piles of hair will stay there.

"To be honest, I've never really thought about it before now. It just. It was just a random thought."

That doesn't seem to do much to make her feel better, and he's not sure what to do to accomplish that. Of course he would ruin the mood eventually. He should have seen that coming.

"Hey, we don't even have to talk about it anymore. It was just me being dumb. I mean, come on, can you imagine what a-"

He's about to ask her if she can imagine what a shit dad he'd be, but the words choke in his throat because he realizes that won't help them. And because it gets him to think about what a great mom she'd be. And he hadn't been lying- he's never really thought about it before or craved it in any way. But the idea of her with a kid on her hip, their kid on her hip. Something about that mental image hits him in the gut in a way he's not expecting.

So he stays silent, keeps massaging through her hand with intentionally extra gentle hands.

"Don't worry about it, yeah? We're just washing hair."

"You... You want a family."

Something about the way he pauses says it loud and clear. All the pausing and backtracking, really.

It's like a knife pushing all the way through her body mercilessly.

"Shand, I... I can't-"

The room starts to spin as her thoughts start spiraling, emotions start building into a dangerous, unstable high. Things are getting hot like the constant fire in her is being stoked into a painful blaze. She can even see steam begin to roll off the water like someone has put a fog machine in the bathroom.

Like smoke rolling out of missile launchers, gun barrels, smokestacks out of a factory. A facility. A lab.

Hot buzzing lights heating the water around her into a boil, that's what it feels like. Except it's all her. It's all coming from her.

It's always her, isn't it? Ruining everything, broken beyond help or repair. Breathing starts feeling like more a chore, labored, something heavy sitting on her chest, grabbing at her heart.

This is a panic attack, isn't it? She's had years of experience with them, she can acknowledge them pretty well at this point. But most of the time they're after a dream, waking up from a nightmare. This is during the day, after a real-life moment shoving her under crashing ways of guilt and pressure.

"I can't- I can't give you that- I'm not-"

The more she tries to force through and admit to him what she's trying to say, that she can't do this one thing that women for centuries across a thousand worlds have been doing, the worse it gets. The more her eyes sting, the more the edges of her vision go dark.

He's here, she can still sense him and feel him, but it's hard to focus on him. Maybe because focusing on him will be admitting the man she loves wants a family but she's too broken of a toy and lab rat to give him something so simple.

On instinct alone, her hands reach out and find his arms, grabbing onto him for some sort of support and stability even though it feels wrong to do right now. Her hands are hot against his skin and the thought of accidentally burning him does play in the back of her mind so she tries to pry herself off of him, away from him, but it's like her body isn't listening to her. She's held down in this spot by some unseen force and weight trying to press her out of existence.

Something about that seems preferable to having to have the truth spill out of her mouth right now.

"Hey, hey. Shhh. It's okay."

She's breathing fast and everything is hot, and he can see her spiraling. He takes her face in both his hands, gently, turning her to look at him. He knows if she's anything like him, the touch will help remind her, help calm her. But his hands are also cool, and he knows when she starts feeling this way, she burns and rolls with heat and that discomfort doesn't help.

"I've been there, remember? I've done that already. I don't need to have kids to be happy. God, though, it would be a trainwreck. I'm enough of a child for both of us. Hey, look at me."

He tilts her head a little again, this time to get her eyes focusing on his. She's crying, he can tell, and all the hair and shampoo is dripping everywhere. He brushes the side of his hand across her forehead and down her nose, cleaning all of the suds off her face and from around her eyes.

"You're more than enough for me, Luna. You're way more than I've ever deserved or could have ever imagined. I don't need anything else. Just, you don't go anywhere, and I'll be fine. I promise. You're everything, remember? I've always meant that. There's nothing else I need, okay?"

He leans in to press kisses to her forehead, soft and soothing and sweet, one after the other so he can feel her skin, so they can be as close as possible again. He'd been careless, brought up something offhandedly that had derailed it all. He should have been more sensitive, should have thought about what he was saying before he'd said it.

"You're perfect, Luna. You've always been perfect. You have to know I'm gonna think that no matter what, always."

"Shand, I can't-"

Even just seeing his face, seeing him looking at her like that, makes the tears well to the point that she can't see clearly. He's right in front of her but he's no more than a blob of color and undefined shapes.

Never in her life did she think she'd find anyone that she would love enough that this topic would matter. Of course, she hoped for it, but it never seemed probable nor plausible. So, like an idiot, she's never thought of a way to talk about this aspect of herself before.

But now here Shand is, someone she loves more than she's ever loved a single thing or group of things collectively in her entire life. And now here she is facing her past in a new way she should have been prepared for.

"I can't, it's not possible. I just."

She's trying. She is desperately trying to tell him, he deserves to know. But for every second she tries, the harder it is to breathe. Luna tries to focus on the touch of his skin, his hands on her face, his lips glancing around her, and it does bring her some level of comfort.

But it also reminds her that she can't give him this one thing she's supposed to be able to. Something that should be so incredibly natural but isn't.

"Shand. I can't have children. I can't. They- I just- "

The sentence finally slips out though she's not able to work out an explanation with it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't even do this- I want to- But I can't."

Instead, it just rolls into frantic apologizing. She leans forward and collapses into his chest, panting, sobbing openly, curling up into a ball to try and block out the rest of the world, to try to shrink back from the immense guilt she feels over this.

"No, no. It's okay, I know. I know that already. It's okay."

He keeps kissing at her hairline, down the sides of her face and the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks where the tears are still rolling down her skin.

And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he thinks he has known, somehow. He doesn't ever remember talking about it, in any of their lives or any of the worlds, but the idea isn't foreign and doesn't hit him hard. It seems like something he's known and forgotten, like a dream he hadn't remembered seeing in his sleep until now.

"Shhh. Don't cry. Don't cry, it's all okay. I promise. Don't be upset. I'm not upset, I'm okay. We're okay."

He pulls her in as close to him as he can get with the awkward arrangement in the tub, pulling her face into his chest and tilting his chin up a little to redirect the shampoo suds from getting into his mouth. In a moment of frivolity, he starts blowing against the suds, creating bubbles that float down onto the surface of the water and hover there.

"We have all the fun we need right now. And I hear those little buggers are really bad for sleep. And between the two of us, we don't do so hot on our own. We're perfectly fine just how we are."

He knows some part of her will never believe it, but he can't mean it any more than he does. Is the idea of someone in their world, half him and half her, walking around a pleasant thought? Of course it is. But all the images he sees of her playing with children, sitting them on his lap, her singing to them. They have more than enough opportunity for that already.

"Hey, with all the family back, we have more than enough people to go around. More than enough family. Kids running around everywhere. I don't need anything else. I promise. Look at me. I promise."

He pulls her away from him again for a moment for emphasis, letting her see the seriousness in his eyes for a few long seconds before he blows a few bubbles out of her hair again with a soft, sweet smile.

"Shand-"

She flinches as his breath washes over her face, when he speaks and then as a side effect of him blowing suds off the top of her head.

"No, Shand, I'm sorry. I want to give you this, I want this too, but I..."

How does she continue on to explain what had happened to her? He's seen most of her memories, of her own experiences being locked in a lab... But she doesn't even have the memory of the procedure taking place. That's a gap in her own memory and that's not even part of any of Nameless's worlds.

"I just- I remember being in my small room and then it filled with gas and I fell asleep. When I woke up, they told me what they had done but I was so young I didn't understand what any of it meant-"

There's really no point in explaining this. It won't change anything to say it out loud. It can't even be argued that it's therapeutic because it's got her all in a panic just to think about it.

So why does she keep talking even after he tells her to stop? Is she trying to justify herself? Maybe make them feel better to know it's outside their control? Maybe make her seem like less of a failure, less of a let down of something as natural as... Well, nature?

"I didn't know- I didn't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't... You have to believe me-"

"Sweetheart, I believe you. It's okay. Really."

He moves on to rubbing slow circles into the sides of her arms, leaning his head in a little so he can better watch her expressions and study her face. The look on it right now has his stomach dropping. Hadn't he just been saying how he'd learned to take her smile for granted? The peace and the calm? He understands now that neither of them are ever going to outrun their past lives, even outside of their dreams. The bits of happiness they've carved out for themselves here, they have to focus on those.

"Luna. I have you. Hey, I have you. That's the biggest miracle I can imagine. After everything, we made it back to each other. We fought tooth and nail for this, and now we're finally where we've always been meant to be. We're how it was always supposed to be. This is absolutely perfect."

There's a moment where his stomach feels like it falls even further as he thinks about what she'd said. I want this, too. He wonders how long she's had this struggle, just pent up in her own mind, the tears the anxiety, all of it. Something shifts.

"Hey. You're perfect to me, and nothing about you or about us together like this disappoints me at all. But... I understand how you could feel different about it. How it's probably really hard for you. If... if you need to cry, or talk it out, or something, that's okay too. I can just hold you and you can cry if you want to, if you need to just get that out and let it go."

God, he's never loved anything so much in his whole entire life. When he looks down at her face, even as upset as it is now, he's filled with that feeling he knows well by now. That overwhelming assurance that he will move heaven and earth to make her happy, to make the world right for her. He'll throw his life around whatever way he needs to in order to protect her, to make things right for her. And maybe he can't make this right for her, but whatever she needs to get as close as they can to that aim, he will do.

"No, it's just- When I was little... You know how little girls can be, they carry around their favorite toys, they want to be moms. I wanted that."

She tries to sniffle back some of her tears, collect herself again. He's being incredibly patient with her, the least she can do is try to work herself back, sort this out without totally ruining this moment.

Well. Ruining it more than she already has.

"I had a little stuffed dog someone in a town gave me. She was the only toy I had, you know how my parents were. I named her Flower because I was super original. I brought her everywhere with me, I put my own clothes on her, tucked her into bed, tried to feed her. She was my version of a babydoll. I loved her, I even called myself her 'Mommy.' I don't know why, kids do weird things."

Luna tries to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand but it only transfers more water to her face, making the situation worse. One thing it does help with is it clears her eyes enough that she can finally get a better visual on him. He's just watching her, listening, even when it's difficult to understand her because she's sobbing through the story or hiccuping, skipping over words.

"I lost her when I was taken away. And then one random day I woke up and was told I'd never have a family, that any ability I had to have an actual Flower of my own was gone. Once I figured out what they meant, I was devasted."

She leans forward back into him, resting her head under his chin, arms looping tightly around him. It's awkward with how their knees are all pulled up to themselves, but he shifts to make room for her to hide against him the best she can. A few tears slip solely because she doesn't know what she did to deserve this, to deserve him.

He doesn't have to be doing all of this for her but he is. Maybe she'll never understand why and can only relate it to the fact that she'd do the same for him. Right now, this is what she needs, what she wants.

"I just wanted to be different. I wanted to be what my mother wasn't. But they... They took that from me. I won't even get a chance to try."

He lets her say everything she needs to, keeps his head pressed against the top of hers and presses close to her until it's hard to tell whose limbs are whose anymore, they're just tangled up together in a way that feels more comfortable than it looks.

"Well, I. I know I don't know entirely what that's like. But something I do know is that, there have been a lot of people that I, at least, feel like have been parents to us. I mean, honestly Trita was kind of like a mom to me, whether she'd ever admit that or not. And my dad was kind of like that for you, too. I'm just saying... I know it's not the same, but I don't think you have to be someone's biological parent to be a mother or a father to them, and to do it the right way. You know? Does that make any sense?"

He keeps holding onto her, letting her hold onto him, counting her sniffles and the number of times her body sighs heavily and her shoulders shake.

"You'd be a great mom, Luna. And you can be. I don't think you have to be able to have kids to do that if that's something you wanted. And again, I know it's not the same. And it's not something I can completely understand. But, it's just something to maybe think about. Yeah?"

"But Sera and Korrin... They aren't my biological children and I know I'm more of the adopted older sister to them technically... but going off of what you said, let's just call me their mom."

She cringes at what she's about to say, at the thought she's about to have and the memories it digs up all along the way.

"I was their mother and they died for me. I left them alone and they died because they knew me. I don't think that makes me a great mom, Shand."

And that's a hard fact to deal with. She wanted to be a mom, that's what Luna wanted during a large portion of that part of her life. But, when she finally got that opportunity, she had failed miserably. She let those kids down. Her kids. In the worst possible way, her own sins and past costing them their lives.

The only mothering outcome she can think of worse than that is her own mother and everything she put Luna through, but. That's not exactly a high standard and most definitely does not make her feel better to think about it.

"... How do Trita and Dolan do it? They're... They're basically everyone's parents and they do it so well, I don't understand. How do they make it work?"

“I️ don’t know, from what I️ understand, they died because they loved you. And even though the outcome of that hurts, that didnt make you a bad mother to them. I️ think that says the opposite. You don’t die for someone who wasn’t an important and loving part of your life.”

He shrugs a little, knowing all he can do is offer a different perspective on something he can only guess at. That’s the hardest part of loving someone, isnt it? Knowing that no matter how close and how similar you get, there will always be things you can’t relate to. That you have to rely on compassion and empathy for guidance on. There have been millions of times over the years and over the worlds where Shand has wished to just steal her past from her, to steal all the hurt and the worry and wear it himself to free her from it. But of all the things he can do, that’s not one of them.

“And God, Pops and Trita. I️ don’t know. Maybe its just a matter of fit. Me and my dad have never meshed like that, but you and him are close and it seems like you really get along, so maybe you guys just fit better. Maybe it also has to do with the fact that they’re kind of the fun parents, you know? Like the lawlessness and stuff. They’re the kind of parents that would let you eat all the candy you wanted and then take you to go steal stuff with them. I️ don’t know, just a guess. Seems probable, though.”

"... I'm starting to feel like I remember having a life with Dolan where I was very young and he was in all definitions of the word, my father."

Speaking of all these memories just now flooding back to them, that's a fun situation to remember. It was an extremely different world, mostly just her and Dolan through it all. But she hadn't really been her.

Well, no, she was still herself but a much younger version of herself. Maybe seven at best. And there Dolan was, her guardian and father figure, leading her around, here and there.

"Yeah, and I definitely don't remember him letting me eat whatever I wanted nor taking me with him on missions. He was very against me coming with him, more often than not."

There's something about that which pulls a small smile out of her despite everything she's feeling.

"But I could definitely see Trita not having a problem bringing you will her on missions. She'd probably expect you to keep up no matter your age. And I mean you specifically."

“I️.... okay, track with me here, and I️ might sound crazy, but.”

He wrinkles his nose a little, trying to pull all the detail he can manage out of his mind.

“I remember something like that too. Except... I️ remember me and you and Lance, all young together. And we were with Trita and my dad. Am I️ losing my mind?”

The memories are vague, like memories one would still hold onto from childhood. But some of them are clearer than others, and good. Pure and sweet. He remembers Trita being kind and gentle and patient with him. Just, in a different way than she’d been with him in the other worlds.

“And while... while were on the subject of me maybe going insane.”

He cringes a little, preemptively. They’ve talked about a lot of crazy things here together, but he thinks he’s about to win the award for ridiculous.

“I️ kind of have this memory of... of you as a mermaid?”

"I... Do actually have more memories of being little with you and Lance. I remember you asking if I would be a "mommy" if you would be the "daddy," because children don't know what marriage actually is. All we knew is that Trita was mom, Dolan was dad, and they were together. Is that weird?"

Luna thinks back on all these odd memories she shouldn't rally have, memories that shouldn't exist in the same mind. A lifetime of memories growing up with just Dolan by her side watching over her, then a slightly shorter timeline of growing up with a big family. It's not possible but there they all are occupying the same space.

They don't fit together but they don't feel odd like it's wrong to have them all at once.

"Our brains must be all sorts of screwy because I definitely remember being a mermaid. You were... Some sort of sailor, right? We met out on the ocean, you dropped your pearl."

If anyone walked in and overheard this conversation, they'd be labeled as crazy, sent away to an institution in any other world. It's a good thing they're not in anyone else's world. Here in their own, this is normal. This conversation is safe, perfectly fine to have. They're not judging each other for it, they're bonding more over it as all these memories of themselves come back, memories of being together and inseparable.

"I... I was always shirtless in that world, wasn't I? God... I'm so sorry, I'm imagining that was weird. And awkward."

"I think I'm probably the only ever person ever who could tell you that no, I don't think that's weird in the slightest."

He slowly finds himself laughing a bit, soft at first before it gets louder to the point that he has to muffle it by kissing her forehead. He comes away with soap all on his lips, but he doesn't care. They've always been the only one for each other. Perfectly suited, perfectly fit together in every way to understand each other, to be there for each other, to love each other in the deepest, fullest way that no one else ever could.

He loves that. He needs that. He can't imagine life without it.

"Also, the whole shirtless thing. That didn't bother me too much, either. Didn't expect it at first, if my memories serve, but I think it grew on me. A lot."

He has to press his lips together to keep a smile from growing, but it grows all the same until he's biting his lip down at her in this childish exuberance.

There's so much more to share now, as if they didn't already have enough. A whole world, thousands of years worth of experiences and memories and joint efforts. It's like, in an already endless-feeling universe, things have expanded out to contain an infinity of them. The thought of talking about it all, sharing it all, reliving it all randomly whenever it pops up, makes his chest feel warm and makes him feel free, like every part of him is known. Known and somehow, through some miracle he can't claim to understand or deserve, loved.

"You... God, you remember that time Nameless was a dog? I just now realized that. He peed on me. That little shit. That... that all makes so much sense now."

"You little perv."

Luna laughs as he smiles through the shirtless comment, splashing water up at him. It's easy being like this with him. Comfortable and secure, like there's really only time for laughter and joy, nothing else.

Deep down, they're both hurt, both broken, but it's nothing that feels beyond what the other can't help hold together. The way she laughs is light and there no longer feels like there's a heavy weight pressing on her chest, even though she had just been sobbing moments ago and she knows her eyes are still red from the tears.

It just makes sense that none of that can linger too long between them when they're joking around, pressed up against each other like this.

"I remember Nameless being my dog and your family were the only people he took slight interest to, especially you. God, he just stared at you all the time. I guess that's because he was messing with you, per usual-"

No, wait. Nameless wasn't sarcastic - for a dog, anyways- with everyone. He didn't just ignore people or mess with them to make them uncomfortable. There was one person he actually seemed to like, to enjoy and actually act like a dog around, wasn't there?

"Shand... Was Sabina in that world with us? I know that sounds weird, but I just remembered that Nameless was always so happy to see someone there and... I think it was her?"

"Oh, God. Yeah. Yeah she was."

It takes Shand a second to place her, and once he does, the feeling is strange. She doesn't look the same way she has in his mind, the times he's gone into his subconscious and seen her. She'd been older back in that life, more of a true grandmother. But there's no missing the continuity in her personality, in her phrasing, in the way she'd carried herself and the expressions on her face.

"That's. That's so strange. I wonder why she was there."

Times like this, Shand hates that she's just stuck up in his head, minding her own business. It would be easier if she was here, in some physical form like Nameless, not hovering around constantly in the shadows, always listening but never chiming in. Of course, he has to admit, she's made herself known when it had been necessary.

"She sure did meddle in everything a lot, didn't she. What I wouldn't give to see her smacking Kvanne around like that again."

The memories bring a different sort of smile to his face. It's funny to think of all the experiences, all the impressions they now have of people close to them that they wouldn't have ever had otherwise. When the memories of different worlds overlap, there's a fuller understanding of their friends and their family, a deeper connection on multiple levels.

That brings another thought back to him, and he moans a little, sinks further down in the tub so he can rest his forehead against her shoulder.

"I forgot so many people. I have a ton of work to do, don't I. God, this feels like... like I saved all my homework for the week for the night before it was due."

It just comes out, and he realizes that's from that same world. Homework? He wouldn't know what that was otherwise. What a strange thought. How everything just flows together now, knowledge and contexts that would be foreign otherwise.