Merle knows he's dead, and he knows because why else would Taako's well dressed husband be there, at his door, like a guest. He's swept off his feet, and the first real sensation that fills him is a jolt of feels like he's dreaming. He looks back to realize he is , and that's his body right there in his easy chair next to Davenport's own patterned chair where they'd sit and talk or drink tea or play chess. It's a half-dream that carries him through, and into the Astral Plane. The steamboat is new though, and he wonders if it's just to keep up with the times or if it's for him specifically. Looking at it makes him think of Davenport, and it aches like a hole in his chest.

The first thing Merle sees, the instant his incorporeal flip-flops touch ground on Burnsides Island, which, surprisingly, crunches underfoot the way sand should - even incorporeal ghost sand - is the careful rise of a rooftop, with a cozy chimney puffing incorporeal smoke into the endless sky. He'd recognize that design anywhere. It looks just like the house Magnus built when he was alive, the one Angus' grandkids must be raising theirkids in. Oh, Pan, he was gonna miss them. Angus, too, since he was busy with Reaper Things now, and Taako wouldn't be dead for another good long while. Barry promised they'd drop in once in a while, and he knew he could hold them to that, but beside that, he knew he'd miss the old captain himself. Merle wonders if Davenport even knows he's dead yet. The gnome had just left a couple days prior. He kissed Merle goodbye, got on his little boat, and sailed into the rising sun. Merle's chest aches, thinking about it, thinking about Davenport coming home to an empty house, or if he was lucky, getting the news before getting home. If he was lucky, Davenport wouldn't be heading to the Astral plane for another century or so. He hopes his kids don't find him. Or Davenport for that matter. Merle hopes it wasn't even Hekubah who somehow is clinging to life, out of sheer spite. If anyone has to find his body, he hopes it's Taako. Taako is steady, and he has the reapers to lean on in case things get truly hectic. The elf would talk to Kravitz, and he'd know he settled in on Burnsides Island, and that he's fine . Very dead but, nonetheless, fine .

It strikes him he should make a final goodbye to Kravitz, so Taako gets the full scoop, but he looks back to where the Astral Steamboat was chugging along the Astral Docks he guessed were actually used, occasionally, to see if Kravitz was around still, but no dice. Guess that means he's on his own. He hopes, maybe, Kravitz breaks the news to Taako, or even his family. The kids, especially. He hopes Davenport takes it well. He hopes more than anything else that he doesn't see Davenport for a good long while. He hopes the kids don't end up there soon either. Even Hekubah he doesn't want to see for a long long time. The kids need her just as much as anyone else.

Merle listens to the soothing crunch of sand underfoot, trying to clear his mind of everything, trying to focus on the good things, that he'd be seeing his human friends again, letting his little legs carry him through the adorable wooden gate. It's quiet, but it's peaceful, up until the herd of dogs come barreling at him. It screams Magnus Lives Here, or technically Magnus Is Dead Here. He knocks, once on the door, fighting to get past the swarm of furry beasts. It's all he has time for before the door is swept open, and he's pulled into a bone crushing hug. Well, it would be bone crushing if he had any bones. And the barking . If he had real live ears he'd be deaf by now.

"Oh, shit , buddy." Merle manages to squeeze out, patting every inch of the big guy's shoulders he could reach. The dogs are going wild around Magnus, but he pays them no mind. "I missed you too."

Magnus sets him down, and Merle looks up at him. The fighter looks good. Like he did back then, centuries ago. "I'm so glad you're here. I mean, I'm not glad you died , but-"

"I lived a long, long, long, long life. It's fine, Mags. They named somebody after you. Your great grandson. Magnus McDonald."

"Ha! Hear that?" Magnus bellows into the house, and there's a rousing chorus of familiar voices. He can hear Lucretia inside, along with an unfamiliar voice, husky and kind. He remembers, Lucretia followed Magnus by a week. Taako found her after the funeral, like she went in her sleep. The ghostly part of him that approximates a heart twists, and Merle steps into the house. Lucretia sits at a beautifully carved table, and she looksyoung . Beside her, a hand folded over hers, there's a handsome redheaded woman with a rough face. He surmises this must be Julia, since he'd never met her.

"Was it hard traveling out here?" Lucretia asks, and there's a glitter of hunger for knowledge in her eyes.

Merle laughs, and clambers into the room, up onto a chair. "'Bout as rough as you can get, out there. Used to smoother sailing, I guess." His smile wavers just a hair. "Your kids and family send their love."

"You would have loved Angus back then." Lucretia says to Julia, with a laugh. "He hasn't changed much since then, but still. He was a little different as a child, when Magnus first met him."

"C'mon, I'll show you around." Magnus says, with a grin like he's eager to show off his wife's handiwork. "Oh! By the way, this is Julia."

"I've heard so much about you," Merle says, and it's true. Julia looks at her husband with a fondness that would rot teeth with how sweet it is, and Merle hops off the chair. He's had enough of that. Waddling along beside Magnus, he lets Magnus tell him all about what has happened in the century he'd been alive. From what he can gather, it's been quiet for a while. Besides the dogs, he guesses, who are currently slobbering incorporeal drool all over his beard.

The cabin looks so much bigger on the inside. There's several rooms from what he can tell, and an upstairs that he definitely could not spy from outside, with a spiral staircase that seems to lead up to what might be an observatory and more rooms. How many people the Burnsides expect to stop by here, Merle doesn't know, but it brings everything together in a familiar, but not too familiar, but not too not -familiar way. The decor is very Magnus and it's nice, and he loves it immediately. The kitchen, where Lucretia and Julia were talking, was open, but their voices were hushed. Magnus gestures with a tilt of his head.

"You gotta see the view from the back," Magnus tells him. "We built it just for sitting out there. Julia likes to joke it's for watching the sun set, but as you can see, no sun."

There's a back porch, and it's cute. Quaint, even. Bay windows, with massive shutters, white wood, hearts carved into nooks in a couple places. It's kitschy but it's homey.

But his gaze is on the dock a dozen or so yards from the back porch. There's no breeze, nothing, but he feels like he's being battered around by a storm. Magnus is lingering back by the window, and his expression is pensive, and he's watching Merle. Watching Merle make the discovery of a thousand lifetimes. There's a man on the dock, a human man.

Merle knows that figure, back to him, shoulders much more relaxed than he remembered them being. The salt and pepper hair, more pepper than salt this time. That too, is blowing in an incorporeal wind that must be coming off the Astral Sea.

He's sitting, one knee up, the other hanging off the dock, and his charcoal colored shirt is open at the collar, and he's barefoot . The last time Merle saw him, a hundred years ago, he was barefoot, just like that, and his sleeves were rolled up, and the sunset painted everything red and gold. Merle still regrets not kissing him before he vanished.

It's hard to walk, Merle realizes, each slow step dragging toward the dock taking him closer. He must hear the low impact of Merle's feet on the sand, but he doesn't even move. Merle steps onto the dock, and it creaks beneath his feet, and in an instant his every concentrated thought was on the human before him. Merle opens his mouth to speak-

"Long time no see, huh." John says, over his shoulder, and Merle cracks a grin, leaning a hand up on the dock pole, where an unlit lantern dangles above his head. It holds his attention for a brief moment as he watches it squeak back and forth, swinging in the Astral Wind. "It's been longer for me than you, I think." He adds, shifting to turn and face the dwarf. His elbow is up on his knee, and Merle has never seen him look so relaxed. "You can sit down. We can talk here, for, well ," a faint smile crosses John's lips, and Merle feels like a hundred trains just ran over his heart, or throughit, if he had to honestly say, "For forever if we need it."

He folds his legs and squats down. "I didn't think you'd be around. Thought you just," he pops his lips, and gesticulates a poof gesture, "Poofed out of existence."

"That's what I thought would happen too." John's eyes are low, and distantly, Merle wonders if his eye color's changed. "But, as you can see. Clearly that wasn't the case. With the disappearance of the Hunger, what I was , was just a man. I… came back to my home plane, no longer anything but myself. Where there was no you." John considers his next words, and it genuinely feels like he's struggling with it. Merle is amazed and a little worried that he can't seem to spin a story with his silver tongue anymore. "I lived, the way you would want me to. I chose happiness, Merle. I chose life." His hand is wrapped tight around his knee, and he's staring at Merle. It jolts the dwarf to see he has eyes the color of fresh grass, a bright green that has an intensity to it that fills his chest and makes it hard to breathe all of a sudden, not that he needed air to begin with. "But I never…" He pauses, trying to think of a way to word it. All this time as the voice of legion, and now is when he's tongue tied. "You weren't there , Merle. On my home plane." John's throat works like he's swallowing around a lump in his throat, and Merle's own dark eyes lock onto his. He can't really even believe what John is saying. "You know? What's the point of living out there, all my memories, all of us , of you , and I could never see you again."

"You didn't….?"

John knew what he was asking. Did he ever find anyone else. Or perhaps did he take his own life. Either way, the answer was the same. "No. Not that it matters. I had, what, fifteen years left, twenty at best?"

Merle whistles. "How long have you been waiting? Were you here with Magnus this whole time?" He wonders if that's why he's been so much more quiet, that he's subdued because Magnus never met the man they called the Hunger. He only knew the fight, the death, the fear. Merle wonders if Magnus even knows this is the Hunger itself, some sad lonely human that's been waiting for him for a good century.

John doesn't answer, but it doesn't matter, because he's pulling him in, and John's hugging him, close to his chest, and he chokes out a sob, and Merle simply hauls his head in, close, and cards his hand through John's hair. That gets a hiccup and a quiet laugh out of him and he bows his head to Merle's shoulder, and Merle smiles into his hair, smelling faintly of salt air and soap.

"Missed you too, buddy."