Disclaimer – Firewingbelongs to Kenneth Oppel. All recognizable characters are his creation and belong to him. The song from which I took the title is by Audioslave and called "The Last Remaining Light."

Author Notes – Here's the end of my two part Silverwing fic. Hopefully you enjoyed it. I'm not too pleased with it, but I should have warned you it was plain fluff in the first chapter. Here you go: this is plain fluff! I needed closure and there it is.

Heaven Wait For Those Who Run

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I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge, that myth is more potent that history. I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts, that hope always triumphs over experience, that laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.
- The Crow

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When Griffin awoke, he did not see Marina roosting beside him. Usually, the sight would have panicked him, but now all it did was relieve him. He wasn't sure if he could bear her love or her tear anymore. He didn't deserve her love, and her tears were his fault. All his fault.

With the words a resounding mantra in his head, he pulled up his wings, stretching them. He gazed around, his eyes sweeping the familiar contours and curves of his home. He grunted in stunned surprised when he saw the sliver of night through the opening of Tree Haven. How could he have slept without the presence of nightmares? He felt cool, refreshed; still tired, but ready to continue. He felt strangely cheated. He deserved nightmares.

Tree Haven was mostly empty, save for those still sleeping or those just waking. Although the day was open to them, the mothers and newborns preferred their shunting darkness. Once, when he was still very much a newborn and did not know the story of his hero father, he had awoken during the day to find his mother staring out into the light. Sleepily, he had asked her if there was anything wrong, and then she had launched into the story of how Shade had saved the sun, and how looking at the light sometimes stopped her missing him. He had listened, riveted and awed.

His mouth was dry, and hunger grilled his stomach. Even though it pained him, he realized he needed to find his mother to inform her he needed to hunt. It seemed wrong somehow, eating so soon after his father's death. But Griffin thought that if Shade had loved him enough to die for him, then he would love him enough to allow him a change to continue his life. And he needed water and food to do that.

He was just about to lift off when a torrid flapping of wings startled him back onto his roost and made him stay. The torrid flapping suddenly died, and Chinook was roosting in front of him. The older Silverwing had a tiger moth in his mouth, and with a wing he was motioning to it. It took Griffin a moment to realize Chinook wanted him to take the moth. Quickly, he took it with his claws and ate it, relishing the feel as it went down his throat to his empty stomach. Immediately he wanted another one. "Thanks," he said.

Chinook shrugged, eyes locked on Griffin's. Griffin's heart quickened. "It's nothing," Chinook said tonelessly. "I thought you would be hungry after all… that. And I can get you another one if you like." He stopped after that, folding wings against his body and saying nothing.

Griffin wished he would look away. From all he had heard, Chinook had been Shade's best friend. They had gone through the jungle together, saved each other's lives, and, to Griffin's astonishment when his mother had told him, both asked Marina to be their mate. Point in case, they were friends. Would Chinook blame Griffin for Shade's death?

Griffin cleared his throat. "So… um, do you know where my mother is?"

Chinook blinked at him. "I think she's up with the elders. Don't know why. Probably something to do with Shade and the echo chamber." This time Chinook looked away.

Griffin nodded slightly. "Yeah, that would be it. Mom… she doesn't want it in there. She thinks it's too personal, I guess."

Chinook sagged on his perch. "Yes," he said slowly. "I suppose it would be very personal."

Griffin flinched and decided then he needed to leave. He lifted off from his roost. "I need to hunt," he said stiffly. "Thank you for the moth." Before Chinook could move, he spiraled up toward the elders' roost. "Mom!" he called out, another scream building at the back of his throat.

He trimmed his wings as he entered the topmost portion of Tree Haven. Here the hollowed bark was smudged together, and the ledges for roosting were sharper and ran along in a tight circle. He could see the half dozen female elders roosting together in a small half circle. He flew for them.

"Griffin?" he heard his mother call out. A bat dropped from the circle and began a controlled dive towards him. They fluttered together, and breathlessly Griffin told her where he would be going. Her eyes were still rankled in sadness, and when he spoke of his hunger, she nodded. "Yes, Griffin, of course. Go on."

He didn't want to leave her side, not now, but the hunger in his stomach was so intense he spoke not another word and sped out of Tree Haven into the dark night. He skimmed the creek as he came upon it, the water quenching his musky throat. He was on his way to  his favorite tree when he suddenly caught sound of a tiger moth moving somewhere to his right.

A strange urge rushed through him, and suddenly he went tearing off after it. Shade used to catch tiger moths all the time… Luna had said that once, a long time ago, when she justified the reason she hunted tiger moths and only tiger moths. She had wanted to be like Shade. Well, now that Shade was dead, maybe it was time for him to hunt the moths Shade loved.

He banked quickly, dodging the sound signals the moth was giving off. He cleared from his mind everything but the sound of the moth, the actual sound of beating wings, and tore quickly ahead behind it. He listened to it breathing, to the air shifting around it, and curled his wings, trimmed his tail, and ducked below it. It deflected its sound signals to there, but then Griffin rolled to the other side, came to its air level and took it in his mouth.

It tasted so different from the caterpillars he often ate and the moth Chinook had brought for him. This one was alive, and as it went down his throat it gave a delicious tickle. He almost gagged, but took it down, and when it hit his empty stomach he groaned in pleasure. It was time for more of these things, not the caterpillars.

His intense search for more was suddenly interrupted by a whoop of glee to his left. He looked, and saw Luna hanging from a dead branch of an oak. He smiled, and shot over to her, flipping himself upward to roost beside her. He huddled closely to her, feeling suddenly closer to Shade. She, too, carried his life in her soul now.

"That was great!" Luna exalted. "I don't know how… Griff, really, that was a great chase. You didn't even look confused by the signals the moth gave. You always eat the caterpillars! I didn't know you were so good at hunting." She shivered. "Woah."

All he could do was smile at her. It felt good being near her. She was the only one who would know how he felt. She had seen all he had, and had taken Shade's life as well. Perhaps the guilt he felt in his heart would be in hers as well. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so alone, with Chinook's word taunting his mind.

Yes, I suppose it would be very personal.

"I think Chinook blames me for my father's death," he said in rush, wanting to get it all out. "Luna, is it my fault? I have a bad situation here. I mean, Shade wouldn't have gone down there if not for me."

Luna thought for a moment. "Well, Griffin, if you want to take it that way, then I guess it's my fault, too."

Her word jolted him, and he stared at her. "Luna! It's not your fault. I dropped the branch on you, and if I hadn't been in trouble with my mother, then I would have been at Tree Haven when the ground shook and not been sucked in."

She giggled at him. "You worry too much, you know that?" She didn't give him a chance to answer, but went on. "I didn't try and stop you from taking the fire, now did I? I just let you do that. Maybe if I hadn't even thought to go, Shade would still be alive." She looked at his shocked face. "Griffin, I'm telling you maybe a lot of things! Maybe if I hadn't been born, or you his son, then he would still be alive. Maybe, maybe, maybe."

He stood still, absorbing the lesson. Luna seemed wiser than before her trip into Death's embrace. Of course she would be older because of it, but her wisdom humbled him. Gone were her friends. They were hunting somewhere. He wondered if he would be wise now. He wondered if his adventure put him up there with Shade.

He wondered if it even mattered at all.

"I think Chinook blames me," he said slowly, as if the words would make it true. "I think he hates me because I came out and Shade did not." Luna didn't say anything, expecting him to continue. He spotted another tiger moth, and frowned. "Why are they here? Chinook, your father, Cassiel? Just them?"

Luna shrugged. "Shade was here because he was a messenger from Stone Hold. I guess the others brought news back of my, uh, death and your, uh, supposed death. I guess they wanted to come. Wasn't Chinook Shade's friend?"

Griffin nodded. "That's why I think he hates me. I took Shade away from him… from all of them…"

"But he wanted us to, Griffin," Luna said softly. "He told us to. I wouldn't even be here if not for him. Neither of us would. He loved you enough to do that, Griffin. Don't you think his word is more important than what Chinook thinks?"

Now that she brought it up, he did think so. Shade had wanted it done. His feelings lifted a little, maybe equal to the amount of a dozen wingbeats. He looked at her, a small smile on his face. "When did you get so smart, Luna? You're talking like my mother now."

A shadow seemed to cross her face. "Being dead was weird, Griffin. I didn't even realize how odd it felt until I came out tonight. Everything seemed brighter, and there were more important things than getting into trouble or adventures or something. I'll be happy for the rest of my life if I can just hunt, eat, migrate and sleep. I won't complain."

He supposed being dead longer than five minutes was a weird experience. They sat silently, listening to the water moving in the creek. Griffin was still hungry, but he found it had reduced rapidly. He was fine for now. He watched an owl swoop upon some rodent or another, lift up, and vanish into the moonlight.

He realized, no matter what had happened, his feeling of guilt had not lifted. Still in his heart, he could feel it festering. Luna's words had helped, but he found the terrible lump in his throat had not receded. It was basking in his heart, waiting to strike again. With a start, he lifted down, startling Luna.

"I'm still hungry," he muttered. "Want to hunt with me?" he added, feeling it necessary, although not exactly welcome in his heart.

"No," Luna said. She looked toward the moon. "I need to think a bit more. See you back at Tree Haven."

With a forced smile and nod, Griffin flew into the forest, heading for his tree. He spotted it, happy it was still standing. It seemed less important now. One tree was one tree. That did not mean the entire forest would go. He set down, using his tail to flip a caterpillar into his mouth. He chewed hungrily, getting used to the feel of a full stomach again.

He wanted to talk to his mother, but thinking about her heartbroken face just broke back his guilt. Eating, he found, somehow vanished it, and he gobbled up caterpillar after caterpillar until he was convinced he would be sick. He hung, feeling the pull of sleep that came after such a full stomach. It was, however, still very much night, and sleep seemed out of question.

Sighing in defeat, he decided to return to Tree Haven. Perhaps his mother was still there. He would have to talk to her sooner or later. As he was about to start for home, he saw a bat heading his way. As the bat came closer, his heart plunged. It was Cassiel. Shade's father, his grandfather.

When he saw that Cassiel was intending to touch down next to him, he fought the urge to take flight. He said nothing as Cassiel set down about three winglengths away from him. When he forced himself to glance at his grandfather, he saw Cassiel staring silently into the night sky. He wished with all his heart the old bat would just flap away.

"Griffin, I'm sorry about Chinook," Cassiel said finally. "He doesn't blame you, not really." When Cassiel saw Griffin look at him in stunned amazement, he smiled. "I know Chinook, Griffin. He likes to blame someone when something goes wrong. Don't worry about him. He doesn't mean it, even if it seems so."

Griffin hoped that would be the only thing on Cassiel's order of business. But, apparently, it was not, for Cassiel stayed rooted to his spot, still staring into the night. Griffin decided to let him lead way into talking, and watched the sky, occasionally spotting Silverwings drifting through the sky. He saw a handful of owls, and many, many moths. Down before, he spotted foxes and rats sneaking away into the night.

Cassiel finally spoke again. "I don't blame you, either, Griffin." He took a long breath. "What you have to realize is that Shade was a brave bat. You were his son, and he was going to protect you at all costs. That was just the way Shade was. Don't take anything out of what Chinook says or how he acts. He's just not… coping well." Cassiel paused delicately. "And how are you coping?"

The young bat did not know why, but talking to Cassiel was not quite like talking to anybody else. Cassiel seemed to be able to read his mind. He had just addressed all of Griffin's problems, and the pair had never even spoken to each other directly. Griffin felt grateful to him. It too all he had to address his dilemmas himself without the need for explaining it to someone else. Cassiel was being kind to him, and he was being strong.

Marina and Ariel were crying in their own grief, Chinook blamed him, Luna was meeting her new world, and Cassiel was being the rock Griffin needed. He wanted to embraced his grandfather, but the thought of actually touching him – Shade's father – was almost painful. He kept his distance.

"Okay," Griffin muttered. "I… I think…" He didn't want to say that words that he blamed himself, because maybe Cassiel would think him stupid, but then again, Cassiel had just spoken him into a lull without feeling stupid. Maybe this would work, maybe Cassiel would be able to ease away his thoughts. "I blame myself."

Cassiel nodded, expecting. "I thought as much. Shade was an easy bat to love. He was… special. He was unique. Our colony will grieve for him. I grieve for him now." When Griffin looked at him, shocked, Cassiel just smiled sadly. "You need me now, Griffin. I don't have a right to fall apart. Ariel, Marina, Chinook – you all need someone strong. It was usually Shade. Now… I guess it's my turn. He spent a lot of his life looking for me. I have no right to not carry on in his way."

Another stone tumbled from the boulder of guilt in Griffin's heart. Cassiel did not blame him. He thought his guilt just, and had softly and efficiently crested it away. He wanted to talk to Marina, and ask her if she forgave him, too.

"Don't blame yourself, Griffin. Shade wanted you to, and his life would have been vain if you had not taken it. I'm proud of him for that. I'm very proud of all he did."

Griffin said nothing, but lifted from his perch. He knew Cassiel would understand. Cassiel understood many things. "I need to see my mother," he said abruptly.

"As you should," Cassiel murmured. He raised a wing. "Be safe."

Griffin sped away towards Tree Haven. Night was still in its entirety, but he knew day was cresting over the mountain. He shot into Tree Haven, calling his mother's name. He spotted her roosting in the spot where they had huddled last night. He went to her, giving her time to collect herself before he set down next to her.

"Mom, do you blame me?" he asked bluntly. He had to before he lost his nerve all together, and took flight.

Marina looked up at him quickly. "No," she practically yelled at him. She brushed her tears away angrily. "How could you think that, Griffin? After all he did for you, you think I would you for what he would do? For what I knew he would do if he had to? No, Griffin, I don't blame you." She shuddered. "I blame him. I blame me."

His mother's words scared Griffin, and for a moment he could not speak. But he realized that her blaming herself, and Shade, was just as dangerous and guilty as he blaming himself. "Why, Mom? Why do you blame him? You did nothing wrong."

She looked at him, surprised at his outspokenness. The rest of her tears were fading. "Griffin… who else can I blame? Goth? I can't blame him, Griffin. He's gone to me now. I can't do anything to him. There's no point. I blame Shade because I knew he would do it. I always knew he would do anything to keep you safe. He was the worst kind of bat. He was the one who knew there were more important things than himself. He was the one who loved something so much he would die for it."

He looked at her, truly frightened now. How could she say these things? How could she say it was Shade's fault? And what did she mean, do anything to Goth? What did that mean? She was going to start doing things to… herself?

She saw his look, and laughed sadly. "Griffin, I'm sorry. I don't…" The tears began to fall. "I don't blame him. I'm angry, I'm sad. I miss him already. I miss him so much, and I don't know what to do about that! I don't know how to deal with it. I've lost my mother, and my father before, but Shade… Shade loved me, and I loved him back so much. What we had… I'm still young. I don't want to live my entire life without him."

He cast his eyes downward. He had not expected this. He had expected his mother to blame him, just like Chinook. They were friends, too. He had not expected her to be so deep into her grief, so submerged it looked almost pitiful in the way her tears fell. He looked around, almost self-consciously, and saw a handful of mothers look away. He wanted to lash at them, scream at them for intruding upon this grief.

"Mom," he said without conviction, because he did not know what to say. "Mom, don't…"

Marina took a shuddering breath, attempting to keep herself together. Although her tears were still falling, she was now mute, and looked at her son with mournful eyes. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Griffin… I'm so sorry, Griffin, I don't want to put this on you… but I can't… this is so hard, Griffin. I don't know what to do."

He wanted so badly to warp his wings around her, but wasn't sure how she would respond to being touched. He stayed where he was, fixing her with an intense stare, and wondering if he should find Ariel, or maybe Chinook. As he was just about to take flight, he saw Chinook moving towards them. He stayed where he was, tensing.

"Chinook!" Marina gasped in surprise when he came upon them. Without a word, he enfolded Marina in his embrace, and she seemed to fall against him. He held her up, strong muscles working to keep her from falling. After a moment of melting in his embrace, she had enough sense to tighten her claws, and he let go.

She was crying again. "Marina, stop, please," Chinook said, voice sad and fading. "Please, it'll be alright. He's not gone, not really, Marina, and I promise it will get better…"

She sniffed. "You can't know that, Chinook. You just can't. He's gone, Chinook, and it's my fault! I should have stopped him, done something to…"

"He saved Griffin," Chinook said firmly, looking at the young bat. "He saved his son. What did you expect him to do? Leave him there? Like the moon he would! Honestly, Marina, you know Shade. He's an idiot sometimes, but this time he did good. He always did good."

Marina stiffened, and looked over to Griffin. He was afraid she was going to say something harsh to him, but suddenly she laughed, her voice tinkly and high. "Griffin, Griffin… Chinook's right. Shade saved you. He's inside you now. You have to…" Her voice cracked. "You're the only part of him that I have, Griffin. Don't be afraid of that. Just, please, remember it. I love you so much. I loved him so much."

She opened her wings for him. "I'll love you both together."

He went to her, and she enveloped him. He smelled her, felt her. The peak of a new fear loomed in his mind. She wanted him to be Shade. She wanted him to be Shade. He shivered, and wondered what that meant.

If it meant anything at all.

With a start, he understood it didn't. Not with Shade. Shade had died to save him, for him to live his life as he would. He decided he would have to. He needed to live without Shade's echo in his mind. He was Griffin, not Shade. Like a glorious wave, that truth broke upon him, and he smile thinly.

Shade would want him to be Griffin, not the Griffin ruled by the shadow of a dead hero bat. He wanted to laugh and to cry.

He wouldn't be Shade. He would be Griffin.

It would have to enough. He wondered if it would be.

It would have to be enough.

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From his place that was not quite heaven and not quite hell, but the place that reminded him of all and of none, Shade Silverwing danced through the body of his mate and his son, and then his best friend. He listened to their thoughts, felt their feelings, and recognized the stand of thought forming in Griffin's mind.

He drifted where he where, looming in Griffin's body, expecting the thought and liking it. He wanted to stay with his son longer, but somehow, he suspected he could not do it forever. Something would happen; if he stayed with him any longer, the two would become one. Shade could not tell how he knew this, but the truth was hard to bear. He would not take Griffin's life from him. He would take no one's life. A killer, he was not.

But he would wait. He would wait from Griffin, and for Marina, and when they came to him after their death he would love them and fly with them, across the sea and across the land, into trees and out of them. He would love them, best he could, and that would be enough. He drifted out of Griffin's body, and hung back, watching his family. Cassiel was coming, as was Ariel. He watched them all – his mate, his son, his mother and father, his brother. He would wait for them all.

He would wait as long as it took.

-Finis-