If you have not seen anything past episode 20 of Witch from Mercury, spoilers abound. (It might not be the main plotline but it is still spoilers nonetheless)

In the end, it took 5 years, 2 months and 12 days to find that place.

Add another 12 days if one wanted to add in the bureaucratic and legal nonsense following the whole Quiet Zero incident before the fifth Enhanced Person (technically the sixth Elan Ceres counting the original but he could not care any less as long as he and the original never were in any remote proximity ever again) was, finally, given the freedom to leave in search of that place. With a few parting gifts, even.

A passport sponsored by the very blemished, but still recognised Space Assembly League, with his proper credentials restored to him as evident by their placement in the information page. And a bank account with a not insignificant balance signed over to his sole use by the last President of the Benerit Group, Miorine Rembran, in her other fiduciary duty as CEO of Gund-ARM Inc., technically his most recent employer up till his departure.

"Consider it back pay, at the very least, since Peil seized your other account." Miorine flatly offered, any lingering offence she still had towards him masked for the moment to placate the wheelchair-bound Suletta beside her, still a beaming lighthouse of positivity despite her current condition. "As well as risk compensation, given everything that happened recently."

Everything else, however, was all up to him. And that was just the way he liked it.

The trail was gravelly and still slightly damp from previous rain, clumps of dirt softly breaking apart beneath every step of his hiking boots. A light mist seemed reluctant to go away as Elan approached the crest of the knoll, each new pine tree beside the trail seemingly retreating from the blurred line between dirt and sparse grass, as if they were the edges of theatre curtains being pulled back, captured in inbetweens-

"There it is. I think."

Elan brought up the sketchbook in his left hand. Her sketchbook. As much as he had taken care of it in his wandering travels, the fabric of the cover bore indications of the tumbles it had unfortunately taken along the way, marks and stains Elan could never fully rub away.

He always had it ready to compare her drawing of that place, whenever he was close to the end of his lead. Many times he had cracked open the book, the placement of her drawing so committed to his muscle memory that its splendour was easily revealed on the first parting of the pages. Many times he found that the drawing proved his hunches wrong, that reality seemed to mock his pursuit of the unknown place.

Many times Elan had to regretfully close the pages of the sketchbook without the fulfilment of knowing he was at the destination of his quest, yet with the knowledge that her last request, made mere moments before her sudden passing, would have to be set aside for another short but indefinite period. After all, what was the point of giving what she had asked for, if he did not know for sure she was there to receive it?

This time, however, everything seemed to align. The mist no longer hung over the knoll, clearing the view of a large lake stretched out below. A few grass-lined hills were spread out on the opposite bank, and the surface of the lake, while not totally calm, still gently rippled, as if it was given just a little bit of life from the flora and fauna it supported on and around itself, along with the wind.

Just like in her drawing. And whatever differences there were between page and sight (there were not many, and minute at the worst), Elan could ascribe to pencil lead being a grubby hindrance to level of detail, or just it being a different day.

Suddenly, he had to put his free hand out to stop himself keeling over to the side. He had not even noticed that he had fallen to his knees, the strength in his legs seemingly ponied up for the privilege of witnessing natural beauty.

(Well after the fact, he would take comfort in that it wasn't some data storm infection coming for him, for he could still feel his legs be his legs, as awkwardly odd as that sounded.)

"At least nobody is here to see that terrible moment. Except…"

Shifting his legs to take a sitting position on the crest, where the trail had widened before a right-angle turn onto the next downslope section, Elan hesitated for a moment, wondering if what he had in mind was too much, too ridiculous. But two deep breaths later, almost whispering, Elan managed to utter out:

"I'm here, Norea… Are you?"

There was heat on the back of his left palm, but not the kind of searing heat the Permet within him let off when he escalated his Permet Score, nor the stinging heat of the many, many injections they had done as part of forcing the original Elan Ceres' appearance and basic physique on him.

No, this was the gentle warmth of a hand resting on his own, almost supporting his hold on the sketchbook.

The start of a gentle, albeit sorrow-tinged smile curled up the corners of his lips.

"I'm sorry I took so long. Not leaving much of an actual hint of where this is wasn't that helpful, but… I can see why you didn't."

Elan felt the cool wind prickle his cheeks, and he almost keeled over in laughter. He closed the sketchbook in his left hand, the reminder of her memory unneeded when she seemed like she was right there, with him.

"This is absurd. So, so absurd."

He stilled, almost clenching his fingers on reflex.

"Not as absurd as 5 years ago, though."

The wind still blew. The warmth on his hand was still present, fading perhaps just a little bit but no more. And the memory, the memory of everything, still lingered.

"Oh, how your smile still graces my dreams, haunts my nightmares…"

Elan shook his head, the motion flinging away his wistfulness. It did not fling away, however, his remembrance of what he had sworn himself, without witnesses, to do.

"You did ask, didn't you? That I tell you my real name, before I was Elan Ceres… and after I no longer needed, nor need, to be Elan Ceres."

Something crossed his mind, his head bowing just a bit. "We never really, properly introduced ourselves to each other, didn't we?" He haltingly half-whispered, doubting if he should have even expressed that half a second too late. Shaking his head, he continued, "We really did everything topsy-turvy."

"Oh well." the Enhanced Person mused, "Might as well start from the top properly this time."

"So, hello, Norea du Noc. I am-"

In that moment, the wind slightly shifted. The Enhanced Person's following words, softly spoken, were gently buffeted by the breeze, as if the recipient of his speech was so keen on listening that she drew a shroud for their privacy.

Author's Notes:

Hi! First of all, thanks for reading.

For those who come from my 00 fic (series?) Renewing Trust, I'm still working on the sequel to that that I mentioned before. It's just that life and work and other stuff have split my attention (Witch from Mercury too, it has been a very good ride) and I had phases where I wasn't satisfied with my WIP. No promises on when, but it is coming.

I'll admit that El5n is probably not the most beloved character, and that isn't undeserved given how much of a jerk and creep he was initially. But he found, perhaps not a love interest, but a kindred spirit in Norea. Even in the epilogue, he isn't so much "moving forward" as he is trying to settle that part of his life by looking for that beautiful lake she had drawn in her sketchbook.

And that's fine. People deal with grief and loss and emptiness differently. I just hope with this work I managed to convey his redeemed character well enough.

There was a thought to do a fix-it where El5n somehow bumps Norea away from the kill shot and things snowball from there, but I hesitated because it would be too much to my previous work, and I didn't want to write myself into a type. If there is demand, I might come back to this idea, but I have other stuff that I want to touch first.