It's night and it's day, sun and moon coexisting in the same set of skies.
It's summer and it's winter, green grass and cold wind in the same set of fields.
He sits up, where is he? There's nothing around him, nothing but rolling hills and a fathomless sky overhead, and he looks up.
Where am I?
He looks down at his hands, they are no longer aged, but the skin is taut and bright, brand new – young, yet again, in mind and soul. George notices, there's no ache in his chest.
The hole that had been there for all these years has disappeared.
Then he sees him. He's there, right in front of him.
That face.
That smile.
That laugh.
"Hello, Gred," says Fred, with a chuckle in his voice.
He stares disbelievingly at his twin who's been gone for oh so long.
"Where – what is this?" he says.
Fred comes a little closer.
"You're dead, George." He places his hand on his shoulder.
The feeling of Fred gives him shivers.
Then, he smiles. George smiles the way all of his friends and family have forgotten possible.
"I've missed you, Forge."
And George is happy, for the first time in all these years, he's happy.
Because nobody's ever been able to fill in the 'Fred and'.
Because he's never been able to fit in the 'and George'.
Because for the first time in over five decades, it's Fred and George.
Like lock and key.