"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

-Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

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I awake to a pale gray sunset and rain-bitten wood.

In terms of comfort, this is one of the worst places I've woken up. My eyes are at level with the rusty nails sticking up out of the planks I'm laying on. The light that comes in is diluted and dim.

It's only after a moment that I realize I'm in my treehouse. And I feel like I've experienced a million deaths. As I slept, my bad dreams came back to haunt me, taunting me with visions of blood and black tears. Before that, it's blurry, but I try to recall what got me here. Going to Will's grave, being taken to The Citadel of Souls by angels of death, escaping through the vents, finding Mor's true identity... and running away with Oleander, before falling asleep in his determined grasp.

So much confusion, so little time left to be confused. However, luckily, I'm not as drowsy as the last few times this has happened. In fact, as I remember what took place just before my reign of nightmares, I bolt straight up, nearly hitting my head on the plastic spyglass reaching out the window.

Oh, that telescope. Somehow, it changed everything. Just for a moment, I glance out, past the cornfield, locking my eyes on Will's rotting treehouse. There's no boy in a red hoodie looking back at me. But I didn't expect there to be.

Thunder claps on the horizon, and I'm snapped back to the present. I can hear people talking below me - three raspy voices, two male and one female.

"You have limited time, William." Oleander.

"Very limited. And you know we're willing to help you, but some things are inevitable." Amara.

"I know. I just want to say goodbye." Mor.

There's a lull in the conversation, and then I hear the whoosh of capes. Somehow, I know Amara and Oleander are flying away. Leaving me alone. With my soulmate.

I hear creaking. Slowly, I turn around, to see the person I prayed I'd see.

It's Mor, of course.

His hair is messy, and he's thin - so terribly thin. His black shirt hangs loose off his ribs, falling in and out with the wind.

But his face... I don't know how I never figured it out before. It's unmistakably Will's face, beaten and bruised and starved to the skull.

His black eyes catch mine. For a moment, my heart stops beating. And then I'm running to him, and he to me, and we collapse on top of each other, his cloak blossoming around us.

He wraps his arms around me, and that skin that previously felt so polarizingly cold feels warm once again. Mor's no monster. Mor is Will.

We sit there intertwined, our bodies shaking. My neck heats up, but my heart feels calm. For a moment, I forget about the Reapers and my fate and the fact that I'm practically hugging a walking corpse. All I know is him and I, Will and Lila, King and Queen, Hamlet and Ophelia. We were supposed to live together forever.

Dreams don't always come true.

It feels like only a second passes before we pull apart, ever so gently. Mor - Will - sets his forehead against mine.

"I told you I'll always see you again, baby," he says softly. "Death's only a small obstacle."

Despite our situation, I smile. At the same time, I feel tears running down my face. I hadn't even realized I was crying again.

"This whole time, did you..."

"No," he answers, as if he can read my mind, which I suppose he can. "When I was first assigned to you, I knew you were someone in my life. But I didn't know who. I only started to realize who I was, and who you were, once you told me about Will - about me." He shakes his head, glancing down at the floor. "And when I took you to Havana, I remembered everything."

"But you weren't allowed to tell me."

"You saw what happened," he replies. He looks me straight in the eye, then, and puts his hand at my jaw. "Lila, I could just barely feel your thoughts when you were in your dungeon cell. And I know you escaped not just for the sake of saving yourself, but because you wanted to find me. Why?"

"Because," I say, the tears coming out faster and faster. "I love you. No matter if you're Will Nyquist or Mor of Vermont, Junior Reaper."

Will smiles sadly. "I love you too. I've waited for so long to say that."

Those were his almost last words. He was halfway through that all important, much too common 4 word phrase when he died.

His eyes are still all black, but I can see the shadow of coming tears in them, which only makes my own crying worse. Will thumbs my tears away, but it's no use.

"I'm so sorry," I say, looking down. "I thought we'd have more time. I thought I'd have more time. But now, if they catch us, they'll probably kill me on the spot. And they'll send you straight to Hell."

"They'll have to catch you first."

I snap my head up. "I'm going to die, Will," I say flatly.

He takes a deep breath. I can see he's hesitant to say whatever he wants to say.

"Lila, do you want to know what your cause of death is supposed to be?"

He drops his hands as I recoil, breathing in sharply through my nose before sighing. After a moment, I answer, "Yes."

The concept scares me, but I need to know. Will it be sickness? A wild accident? A fatal injury?

Will rolls his head around, his expression pained. I can tell he's struggling with the concept, figuring out the best way to break it to me without being so blunt that I freak out. My lungs feel like weights in my chest as I wait for him to tell me my fate.

Finally, he says, "Lila, you've been surprisingly cooperative with me through this whole process."

"Because I thought I was getting you at the end of it."

"That may be true, but still..." he bites his bruised lip. "The fact still stands. You were fine with your death. Can I ask if you still are?"

I narrow my eyes. How am I supposed to answer that? I have no idea how I feel. Right now, all I care about is stopping Will from going to hell. "I- I don't know."

My reaper - if I can still call him that - nods, looking down. "Okay. Okay, that means there's still a chance."

"A chance for what?"

"For you to survive," he says, apparently giving up on his attempts to beat around the bush. "Lila, the Fates predicted you would die at the end of November. 6 months after the crash, you'd have a particularly depressive episode. And, home alone one night, desperate for an escape, you'd overdose on pills."

It takes a moment for what he's telling me to set in. My cause of death is - is supposed to be - suicide. My thoughts become a blur. I push down the empty air in my throat as I become sickly frantic.

"No-" I choke out, "No! That has to be wrong! There's a difference between being resigned to your fate and actively seeking death. I'd never kill myself. I-"

I stop, as I realize how suicidal I truly have been in the past few weeks. I've romanticized the idea of death in my mind like a beacon of hope, a goal easily attained with the help of my reaper and my fate. But it feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy, because I can't possibly imagine killing myself. It's one thing to look forward to dying, and it's another to actually commit suicide... right?

Closing my eyes tightly in pain, I bow my head and fall into Will's arms again.

"I took you to the Realm of the Reapers because I wanted you to see how bleak it was after death. Of course, Heaven is different, but no matter where you go, there's always going to be something missing. There's no life in death, Lila, as romantic as it seems."

I don't know what to say, what to think. I can't just drop everything I've been looking forward to for weeks. There has to be another way. "I don't want- I can't-" I splutter, looking for words that could possibly describe my feelings. "I just... there's nothing left for me here. I can't live without you, Will."

"Yes, you can. You have been for months, now. And it may be miserable, but were there not good parts? You're going to have to redefine happiness, Lila, just like they say in the song. But that doesn't mean you can't be happy."

I don't want to be happy, I admit, both to myself and to him, hoping he can still feel my thoughts. Not without you.

And then I realize what I'm doing.

I have depression, and PTSD, and I may never be back to my old self, but I could still be... something. Something better than this. And I'm holding myself back, because with all the love Will had for the world, I can't bring myself to live in it without him.

Everywhere I go, I see him. In flowers on a grave site, wilting with the wind. In the student section at the football field as the Jackals roar, showing the school spirit he always had. In Trevor's sadness and Macy's kindness and Veronica's sad smile. In the eyes of a Reaper, even long before I knew the truth.

It's now that I realize this may be the last time I ever see my best friend again.

But before I figure out my fate, and what I'm willing - or unwilling - to do, I have to help him.

"We have to go," he breathes suddenly, stiffening. As he sits up straight, staring out the window, I blink away my tears and follow his gaze.

"Where?"

"I don't know. I can't fly you anywhere, because I lost my powers. And we can't run forever. We need to face them eventually - it's inevitable."

The thought of whoever them is overrides my brain, sending anxiety to sweep through me like a nor'easter. No matter what comes for us, and for Will, I don't want to be so helpless again, as if my whole body is melting underneath me, like I am every time I look into the face of death.

Clenching my jaw, I sit up too, and ask, "Who is them, anyway? Angels of Death?"

"With something like this, it'll be The Council themselves. They probably won't waste any more time on me, especially considering the fact that I'm starting to mess with the balance of life and death. Like you said, they're not going to go easy on me. But you have a chance."

"I- I don't want to say goodbye."

Will turns, his expression softening from focused and on-edge to empathetically sad. "Neither do I, baby. We can run, just a little bit longer, if you want."

"I do," I decide. "And whatever happens... I don't want it to happen here. I want to go far away, not somewhere the neighbors can see us."

I don't want to taint this place. I associate it with innocence and love, youth and prosperity. This is the home of my memories of 7 year old Kat and I, arguing as we discuss the boy from across the field. It can't become some trial ground, too.

"All right," Will says. As our gazes dance back to the window, and the town lying beyond it, I think he's thinking the same thing I am. In fact, I know he is. I can hear his thoughts, clearly and depressingly, our only remaining power this psychic connection.

This place used to be so different, he thinks. This town did, too. I miss you, Ashdown. Don't forget about me.

Impulsively, I reply, If I survive this, I won't let them.

Will's mouth twists into a small, melancholy smile. He takes my hand and squeezes it tight, before kissing it gently.

As he does so, I start, hesitantly, "Before we go... can I just say one thing? Even if it was your job, thank you for everything you've done for me in the past few months. Even before you knew who you were, you still made some of my biggest dreams come true."

My reaper laughs gently. "That was all you, Lila dearest. I was only the transportation. You were the one with the bucket list. Still, I suppose, you're welcome."

I remember when I first thanked him, and he just told me it was his job, nothing more, nothing less. Now I see, even if we didn't know it, it's always been something more than that.

But he's right, I suppose. As far as our adventures, it was really nothing more than him fulfilling dreams I'd planned long ago.

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It's a blur as we stand and leave the treehouse, as if we're nothing more than kids being called in for dinner. Making a final decision, I lead him to the car, switching the roles we were in when he died. Wouldn't it be ironic if my cause of death was something other than suicide, and I died here as the driver, with Will staring at me lovingly from the passenger's seat?

"Lila," my best friend says, aware of what I'm thinking, "I just want you to know... There's so many people who have fought their fate and failed. But you don't have to fight. You have a choice."

"I know," I reply hollowly, my heart beating in time with the engine. "I know."

And with that, I peel out of my driveway and head straight for the Ash Grove.

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A/N: Before I get into my author's note, I wanna say that I dedicated this chapter to TheQuirkypenGirl
because she has commented and voted on many of the chapters, and I really appreciate that. Plus, she started a book club that I used to be active in, and that's where I met many of my other (earlier) readers. So thank you!

(Also, I'm going to be dedicating the next chapter to someone else! Stay tuned!)

Anyway, does this count as a cliffhanger? How do you guys feel about Lila and Mor's reunion? Or the fact that he's Will?! Is she going to die, is he going to stay dead, and will they end up happy?

I hope you guys are happy. You guys are awesome. Please stay that way :)

xoxo, Athena

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