[What is more real: a brief life when he had not known her, or centuries when he had known her, loved her, made this sort of life with her, a life they can begin to remake now? He doesn't want it to just be pretty words. He's in her now, and that feels like home as much as anything they're saying is.
She's holding his hand to her chest. He smiles up at her, gaze all soft, then tugs her hand down to his chest, to the scars over his heart.]
Always. Like you're here with me.
[Then he understands it: it's why home is this little room in Nocwich now, or wherever they happen to be in the Horizon, or anywhere he can be with her. And it's why he had made this choice, in the end, and will make it every time it's put before him. He's almost sure of it.]
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She's holding his hand to her chest. He smiles up at her, gaze all soft, then tugs her hand down to his chest, to the scars over his heart.]
Always. Like you're here with me.
[Then he understands it: it's why home is this little room in Nocwich now, or wherever they happen to be in the Horizon, or anywhere he can be with her. And it's why he had made this choice, in the end, and will make it every time it's put before him. He's almost sure of it.]