XXVII "All Things"

"New moon," Roy said, glancing out the window. They were out beyond the city limits, and the roads weren't well-lit. The night was going to be difficult to navigate without headlights.

Not much later, Riza pulled the car off to the side of the road and killed the engine. "I think we should walk from here."

Let's not have suspicious cars pulling up close to the führer's house before they're all set up for the party. "Good idea."

He was nervous. It wasn't easy to admit, seeing as how he'd spent the better part of the day convincing himself that they were going to pull through this. He was too upset even to pull her into the backseat for a few minutes, to ask her to give him one more night before the world changed—or to joke about it.

He didn't know what to say at all, in fact. What last words did you give your girl to convince them you were going to come out of everything just as fine as when you went in? If he managed not to get himself killed, but got caught, he'd most certainly lose his job, and be stuck in jail for long years.

The gravel crunched like dry bread under their shoes. The absence of script between them had rarely felt so awkward. The tiny flicker in his palm cast a dim circle ahead, just light enough to make their way forward. They snuck easily past the guards, found the edge of the property wall. He studied its height and grimaced.

"I'm going to need your help getting up this thing…as usual."

"Yeah." It was the most dejected word he'd ever heard.

Roy turned around, having not quite expected her somber mood. She was always the one with the steady hands and the good aim. "What's the matter?"
She wouldn't look at him, even as dark as it was. "Do we…have to do this?"

He'd been asking himself the same question. "You know we do."

"Somebody has to. Why does it have to be you?"

Just "you," not "we." Why was he kidding himself? She was as fretful as he was—and if the pattern meant anything she was even more so. But no, he wasn't taking her into danger this time. She'd just be another target. There was a better chance he'd get himself killed through some stupid act of bravado protecting her than if she was somewhere much safer and out of his sight. "It's the most direct way," he said.

"I don't want you to."

"I know." He wanted to state all his fears, as he usually did, but it would only affirm her apprehensions and that was the last thing he wanted. He had to be the strong one this time. "Remember when you promised you'd run away with me? That's after this. We'll kill this system, we'll make it all right again, and then we'll have something for ourselves, something we've never had. That's my promise."

Her hat was pulled low over her eyes, but something glistened in the dim light of his flame. Riza sniffed heavily and wiped at her face—she was crying! Startled, he went to her; she protested even as she folded up in his arms, but her hands clutched at the material of his suit as if doing so would assure that he'd never be able to go. "God…I've never been so scared…"

"Me too," he admitted, finally, and held her for a long moment. Somehow his fears always felt less when he was with her, even as now when her strength was gone.

"I love you," she said. She just threw it into his shoulder all of a sudden, sounding as though she didn't expect a response or even much of a reception, as if she'd given up hope on it. It was there, it was that same truth that she always spoke. He'd never heard her say it before. "Sometimes I wish I didn't, but I do."

"It would make things easier sometimes, wouldn't it?" he answered. He held her tighter, kissed her gently, tasting the tears still rolling down her cheeks. He didn't know how long they stood with her there, in darkness, gripping this fragile little moment for all it was worth.

Seven years, it had been, almost to the day. Seven years of luck, of honesty and of friendship, of knowing he was never alone or unwanted or unappreciated—there was nothing in the world he would have traded that for.

"It's funny," he told her, "how love transcends all time and distance just to end up where you need it the most. It can be there unseen but not unknown, without contradiction or countermand, for all things. It's been here with us all this time. It keeps me going, Riza, it really does. I love you so much, and I thought I never needed to say anything about it. What a stupid arrangement, to only realize how much something's needed at the last minute, when it's too late to allay all those other fears. But we've made it this far. I'm not giving up now."

"I don't suppose you can," she said. She was looking at him now, at least, as if some burden had been lifted from the back of her neck. Starlight gave her pale skin a blue tinge, a surreal look, as if none of this was happening, and it was just some wonderful dream and horrible nightmare. "Still, I wish we could just stay here forever. That would do."

He put his hand back over her head and cradled it against his shoulder. Her breath against his neck was warm. He said, "I got to thinking not long ago that maybe with everything we do we leave a bit of ourselves behind to a different future. Those pieces of ourselves in turn leave something more—so we relive every moment of every life, past present and future, in some infinite instant in which time only seems to pass. I'm quite happy I ended up with this life, with all the choices and non-choices that brought the two of us together…but at the same time I can't help but feel that it's the only way things could have ever turned out, that we were destined for this time and place all along.

"And I think somewhere in that revelation I saw a glimpse of our future, the one that I want so badly to have: that perfect small life with a family and a nine-to-five job, where I don't have to worry about much besides what's for dinner or why the dog is burying his bone instead of eating it. I'd like that."

"You seem so certain," she said, still sniffling. Mostly, though, the crying had stopped. "Roy, I don't know if I could stand to go on without you. Not after all this time, after all those promises and dreams."

"I'm always here," he told her, pressing his hand down to the left of her spine, over her fluttering heart. "No matter what else I might say, I might lie about, I'll tell you I've no intention to martyr myself. And you know I don't break promises."

"Promise me I'll see you alive out of all this," she whispered.

He pressed his forehead to hers, swept up her last tears with a thumb. Such beautiful eyes didn't deserve to look so sad. "I promise."

He didn't intend to start breaking promises now. They had gone too far for that.

He let her go then, sure that the living memory of all their precious moments would continue, having always happened and always ready to be, forever. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we go find that life we've always wanted."

She nodded, wiped again at her damp face. Without a word she knelt next to the wall and knitted her fingers.

Roy leaned down and kissed her again, set her cap back down lightly over her eyes. He pushed away his doubts that it would be the last chance he'd get to do that. He'd promised, after all. Twenty feet provided him a running start, and his right foot caught her sure hands, and she helped him fly.