It's foggy, so very foggy that morning. But it's not cold. It's muggy. Moisture trickles from his brow.
He can hear the shore, but can't see it through the white cloud-forms billowing around him. Still, he can clearly see the bobbing head of the black haired girl in front of him as they walk along the sand. He places a hand upon her head gently. He doesn't have to reach up or bend down. Her head aligns perfectly with where his hand naturally settles.
The fog intensifies to the point he can't see anything anymore - not even the little girl - and he hears Lee's voice, faint in the distance.
"Aw, crap," she says.
But where is she?
He looks around in vain.
He hears the little girl's voice beside him say, "Thank you, Daddy. No one is being mean to me anymore. They don't call me a freak anymore."
Then he feels her head pull away from his hand and she's gone.
The fog mixes with the sweat on his brow making it so wet that he has to remove his glasses for a sec. And that's when he realizes . . .
There's only one of him. Edward. Singular.
It feels so strange in that moment. Especially because it doesn't feel like anything's missing. He doesn't feel alone, deserted. The Riddler and Little Eddie are gone . . . and yet, they're not. They're all here.
He's been here before . . . integrated . . . but there's just something different about it this time.
It starts to get warmer as the fog lets up and as the sun peeks through it burns him. His left leg especially. "Ouch!"
He focuses on guiding himself through the pain. Making it tolerable. Absorbing it into his psyche as a part of him so that it's still there but far less distracting. No one can really make pain go away - but they can delude themselves into believing it.
"Thank you for protecting me, Daddy!" He hears the little girl's voice again and puts on his glasses to see her running up the beach towards a pink bungalow, her black hair buffeted about by the breeze. There's an umbrella in the sand in front of it, providing shade to whoever is underneath it.
As he starts to walk up the beach after her, the pain makes him limp and he frowns, turning about to face the sun again. The hot, burning sun.
Everything goes white.
It's foggy again as they are cuddling, and it's a bit steamy underneath the pink umbrella. He just wants to keep kissing her. It's not enough just to hold her. He feels like it will never be enough. His hand dives deep into her silky black hair as the kiss becomes more passionate.
He hears her murmur, "You're hot, Ed," against his lips.
"I know."
"No, you're burning up."
Well, his brow is still laced with sweat - that's for sure - and he pulls away from her, running a hand over it.
"Good thing we've got you in the shade," she says. "How's your leg doing?"
My leg? Oh, yeah.
"Better," he says and nods. "Now that you've got me in the protective shade of your umbrella it doesn't burn as much."
"Good," she says and lays her head upon his chest.
They look out at the waves for a while, even though they are difficult to discern through the mist. They listen to their soothing crash. Water tumbling upon sand in a rhythm only nature can provide.
"Mommy! Daddy!" they hear, but they cannot see what is barrelling towards them until she jumps on top of both of them and gives them a great big hug.
Lee looks over at him with tears in her eyes and whispers, "Thank you."
Sometime later, as Lee is adjusting a medical device on their little girl - forever the healer - he sees a father and son in the distance near the surf. The boy is holding onto the string of a kite that keeps plummeting to the sand. The father patiently instructs him on how to prevent it from happening again and again after each crash. Edward recognizes his body language and his suspicions are confirmed when the man takes just one step forward with his right leg. Oswald.
He looks down at his own leg again as the pain flares. He tries not to groan.
He hears Lee say, "It's okay, Ed. You'll be okay. I promise." Yet she's still working with their little girl, not even facing him. How does she even know he's hurting?
The sweat from his brow drips into his eyes, down the side of his nose and onto his lips. He licks at it. Salty.
"Martin!" he hears their little girl shriek as she runs out from underneath the protection of the umbrella and down towards the surf to join Oswald and his son.
Now that they're alone again, Ed asks Lee, "How old were you when your mother died?"
"Ten."
Somehow he had already known that would be her answer.
The mist has overtaken the beach. He can't see Oswald and Martin anymore, he can't see the surf, he can't even see the umbrella above him.
All he can see . . . is her.
And all he can feel is pain as he sweats profusely. It's the worst bout yet. How has the sun gotten through the fog - through the umbrella even - to burn him so badly? His left leg feels like it's on fire.
"Thank you, Edward, for helping me discover who I was meant to be," Lee says with sincerity. "I am at peace now."
She kisses him and pulls away right before the mist envelops her entirely and her face slowly disappears.
Even though he can't see her, he can hear her say firmly, "You're not allowed to die. Not any of you."
"Not any of us? But Lee, I'm just me now. There's only one of us. Lee?"
There is no answer and he stays in that white place for so long that he has no recollection of how much time has passed.
When he awakens, she is lying on his chest. They are still under the pink umbrella but it has finally cooled off. He can clearly see the sea. And he can clearly see something else.
Her wedding band and engagement ring.
Each side of the diamond is complemented by a small emerald. Funny, that's what he would have chosen.
He looks down at his own hand and notices a platinum band there, with tiny question marks subtly engraved upon it, circling around the band. Curious, he removes it.
He brings his hand to his mouth, shocked as he registers the words engraved along the inside of it.
You've solved the riddle.
Lee raises her head and smiles at him, her eyes twinkling. Then she speaks.
"Doubt thou the stars are fire."
He looks up at the sun. Nope, not going to doubt that. That thing is HOT.
"Doubt that the sun doth move."
Shakespeare? He gives her a pleasantly puzzled look.
"Doubt truth to be a liar."
"Every day," he answers her. Betrayal, unfortunately, is part of life. Truth and lies can get so easily mixed up.
"But never doubt I LOVE."
She pulls his head in for a kiss, then settles her forehead upon his. "Thanks for waiting for me, Edward. I know it was a long, arduous road . . . but I hope the destination was worth the journey."
"It was," he whispers, stroking her hair softly. "It was."