It all fell away from him.
First, the cane. Then the arthritis. Then the disease. The other aches and pains from all those battles. The explosions, the bullets, the lacerations. The scars on his face, he left. She liked those and how he wanted to make her happy. Even the long years after she was gone fell away. He was a young man again, vital and full of life.
The sand was warm under his feet. The sky was blue and clear. The ocean pulled in and out like a heart. There was someone laying on a beach chair in the distance. He kept walking.
He came to the chair and looked down at its occupant. It was a woman, brown skinned and black haired. She wore a tank top, shorts and a large sunhat. She was napping lightly. He thought the sunhat was a funny addition and that he had never seen her in such a state. It was a sight to get used to. A sight to mark down in years turning towards despair and sadness.
She opened her eyes. She looked at him and smiled a slow smile. A brief upturning at the edges of her lips.
"Hey Vakarian," she said.
"Shepherd," he said.
"We could go see the others if you like."
He didn't say anything. He merely go to his knees and laid his head on her stomach and closed his eyes. She seemed to know what he wanted and gave it to him. She took a long, deep breath and let his head rise on her stomach before letting it fall. When she was done with this, he rose far easier than he had in the last five years. He got into the chair next to her. His arms fell over the sides and she reached out to take his hand.
"You've been away a long time," he said to her.
She didn't say anything in response but got up and laid on his chair with him. Folding one leg and arm over him.
"I'm home," she said.