I wake in darkness, but not the kind that comes from closing your eyes. This is memory darkness—the kind that feels like falling through time. When the scene solidifies around me, I'm in the Physical Kids' cottage at Brakebills. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting shadows that dance across the familiar surroundings.

And there he is. Eliot. Sitting in his favorite armchair, watching me with those eyes that see too much.

"Took you long enough," he says, but his voice lacks its usual sarcasm. There's something raw beneath the words—something vulnerable I've only seen glimpses of before.

I take a step forward, my body moving on its own accord. "Eliot... are we really here? Or is this another memory?"

He stands slowly, his movements deliberate. "Does it matter?" He takes a step toward me, then another, until we're standing close enough to touch. I can feel the heat of his body, smell the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with wood smoke.

"After everything we've been through..." He trails off, reaching up to brush my cheek with his fingertips. The touch sends electricity through me, sharp and urgent. "After fifty years in that timeline, and months of being apart..."

His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. Our foreheads touch, and I close my eyes, savoring the contact I never thought I'd have again.

"Tell me this is real," I whisper.

Instead of answering, he kisses me. Softly at first, then deeper, more desperate—as if he's trying to make up for all the lost time in a single moment. When we finally break apart, we're both breathing heavily.

"Whatever happens next," he says, his thumb brushing across my lower lip, "I need you to know..."