Chase awaited at the top of the skyscraper next to the one where Jack was staying. He was unharmed after having escaped the blazing inferno of his lair with only minor scratches.
But the heat had singed the edges of the tunic, and that was wound enough.
"He was wrong," said his brother Eon's voice, echoing so clearly in Chase's head that he had to look around to convince himself he wasn't there.
"He was wrong," came again the voice.
Chase growled low in his throat. "He wasn't," he said, because Eon's voice wouldn't leave him alone otherwise.
"You were always the more emotional one," said Eon. "But she felt just as much."
"I don't care," said Chase, clutching the tunic in his hands, just as they slowly turned into claws.
"You do. And that proves that he is wrong. Your soul is as human now as it ever was, and it waits with us."
Chase stood, clawing at the voice of Eon, but he could hear it echoing all around him.
"It's not!" he roared. "It never was!"
"Chase! Chase!" called a female voice from the top of the skyscraper in front of him. Soft. Almost like a whisper right into his head.
He looked in front of him, and saw an unmoving figure with long black hair floating in the wind.
"Chase…," she whispered to him without opening her mouth.
"Someone went a little bonkers," said Dojo's voice behind him. "I mean, you already were, but yelling alone while stalking Spicer? That's next level wacko."
"Can you see her?" asked Chase.
He knew that Dojo was real. He could feel him moving against the world, and his scent filled his nose.
The woman standing on the other building though. She had no scent, no presence in the world. Nothing more than a shadow with hair fluttering in the wind.
And the same face that she'd had back when she had tucked Chase to bed.
"Can't say I do. Does she look like someone you know?" asked Dojo, raising himself to look over Chase's form.
"Yes. My mother."
"Well now. No wonder Dashi sent me here," said Dojo.
That made Chase turn around. "What?"
Dojo extended a roll of parchment towards Chase. "I get messages from him sometimes. For important things. Spirit messaging isn't easy to work with. I wrote it down for you, but don't ask for an explanation. I didn't get one either."
Chase took the message, and Dojo unrolled his giant form, taking to the skies.
"Take a day off. All that scheming and stress is bad for your skin," said Dojo, flying away.
Chase only grunted as he opened the message.
"Chase:
Let him go. Let him have his life back. What are sixty years to you?"
Nothing. Everything. The way Jack's will to live kept fading away, he wouldn't last even half a century. He would waste away among his machines and his calculations, and for the first time Chase thought that would be a terrible waste.
But he couldn't tear him away from his life. Not with that silent figure still observing him like that. Nor could he offer to give him the Lao Men Long soup. This endlessness of time passing him by. This haunting by your own missing soul and the souls of everyone around him were too much to inflict on anyone but himself.
He sighed, and looked back down at the message.
"I know what you're thinking. I know his power interests you, and for you to consider turning him into something like you is almost kindness from you.
But in truth you would destroy each other. The unmovable object creating the unstoppable force. A sad ending to both of you. Especially when his best is yet to come.
Let it go Chase.
I know someone who thinks so too. She still looks down and grieves for you."
Chase crumpled the message, and looked up to the silent figure in front of him.
"You won't say anything?" he asked with a growl. "Even now, you let others say your words?"
The apparition extended a hand at him, and for a moment Chase thought he could see the vaguest hint of an expression on her face.
Grieving.
Then her hair covered her face, and she faded into the night.