Author Note: Hello FF readers and writers. Been a while since I last updated this FF.

I want to announce that this will be a short one and will be the last of the expanded chapters added to this Tinkerbell/War of the Worlds story. I hope you have enjoyed these expansions so far.

Also, I will be doing a small spinoff to this, coming out later this month, which this short will be based off. Keep your eyes peeled everyone.


The cold sea wind whipped his face, its whistle matching with the sound of waves breaking upon the shore. The sky above was mostly overcast, with some small breaks in the cloud cover for one to see the blueness behind. Despite it being the summer season, the young boy felt cold, and not just on the account of where he was standing but of how he felt.

Why
?

He looked behind him, probably the tenth time in the last few minutes and saw the body lying in the sand, partly covered up to its chest in sand as he tried to do a crude, makeshift burial.

The little one was flying nearby, sitting on the ground with a white stone bleached by the sea lying in front of them, their back to the boy.

The boy walked over, trying not to cry as he took in the body in the sand. He knelt down and looked at the fairy. What could he say to him? He couldn't understand him anyway because it was all jingles and jangles.

What do we do?

In the distance, several loud booms echoed out. The fairy and the boy looked in that direction and then at each other, knowing they would have to move on soon – ironically, towards the sounds. The British Army would, if it was them, pick him up. His fairy friend would have to go and find the others of his kind.

Would they see each other again?

Indeed, would they?

They looked back down at the body once again, numb, emotionless, almost as if they themselves were dead. Given they had survived the onslaught, which had not even been so fierce here as it was on the Mainland, one would think they would be over the moon to still be alive.

But it, or he, hadn't.

Why had they survived and not him? Even when he looked ill, the boy told himself, he could still go on. Did it know? Did it know that its time was running out? And what others?

The boy looked up at the sky as if trying to find the heavens, the creator, or something, anything to find an answer.

Why?

But there was no answer for him, nor the fairy.

They had each other, though. That was something, right? Even if things had been sour at the very beginning, the fairy and his companion had helped build some bond between them all.

If only they made it.

The boy looked down at the fairy, and the tiny humanoid looked back at him. The boy tried to look reassuring, but it was hard. The fairy was expressionless, his eyes darkened with rings from lack of sleep, fatigue racking his body. Yet, he had to admit that he was glad the human boy was with him (as hard as it would have been to even faintly imagine just days ago).

The fairy floated up and sat on the boy's shoulder, leaning onto the side of his head, the fairy's no bigger than one of those coins with the silly-looking woman on them. The boy reached up and gently rubbed a finger on his head, trying to be comforting, and carefully so he did not hurt him.

Yes. We made it, and the others helped us survive.

They survived, and they would live. Despite the danger, despite the death and carnage and destruction they had witnessed over the last few days, despite the fighting that had nearly taken their own lives, despite the death of their friend, they had survived and found solace in each other.

That
they were both pleased with, and knew the others would have been happy with them.

Funny how things brought them all together.


Note: Hello FF readers. I know this one is very small and feels rather bland, but I wanted to end this particular part of the TB/WOTW story and give an idea of what comes next.

As mentioned, the short spinoff will be put on the site soon. Keep and eye out for it.

Take care all.