[ He'd loved it up there, with her, surrounded by green and growing things, all the troubles of the city so far away that it seemed as though the wind would whip them away before they could come anywhere near. He'd been able to think up there, to breathe... to plan, as he looked out toward the Monolith as the numbers crept lower each year.

And Maelle had loved it. Though the Gardens were open to everyone, it had become their special place; had been that way since the first time he brought her there, hiked up on his back, her too-young legs not quite strong enough to make the climb. He'd brushed over her cheeks and eyes and lips with soft flowers until she giggled, and showered her with petals. They'd stuck in her hair, lending her a sweet scent all the way home, until Emma washed them out again ]

That was my favorite, too.

[ He reaches to gently brush her wet and straggling bangs back, fingers warm and solid against her forehead here in this dream. ]

So that will be our pact. The next time we meet... it'll be in the Hanging Gardens. All right?

Maybe I'll even let you challenge me again. But you'll be stronger than me by then... I'm sure you'll learn a few new tricks to take me down.