It's not the only way for him to be sure. But it's the way that immediately presents itself and will take care of most of the doubt in an instant. She offers a hand. She reaches out to him in a way that, if nothing else, this tells him that she knows. She has to know, what she did, why she did it. She must know, then, why her existence here rattles him so much.
Are they both dead? Is this what happens?
His hand lets go of the death grip on the knife and, tentatively, slides out to meet hers. It feels like it takes a year. It feels like it takes five.
Her hand is as warm and solid and familiar as it ever was when she was alive, and he grips tight, almost as tight as his chest squeezing fit to burst with love and pain and grief and joy. He pulls her the rest of the way in for a hug, because if he doesn't get his arms around her in the next two seconds, he really might just explode.
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It's not the only way for him to be sure. But it's the way that immediately presents itself and will take care of most of the doubt in an instant. She offers a hand. She reaches out to him in a way that, if nothing else, this tells him that she knows. She has to know, what she did, why she did it. She must know, then, why her existence here rattles him so much.
Are they both dead? Is this what happens?
His hand lets go of the death grip on the knife and, tentatively, slides out to meet hers. It feels like it takes a year. It feels like it takes five.
Her hand is as warm and solid and familiar as it ever was when she was alive, and he grips tight, almost as tight as his chest squeezing fit to burst with love and pain and grief and joy. He pulls her the rest of the way in for a hug, because if he doesn't get his arms around her in the next two seconds, he really might just explode.