Epilogue

Chapter 60

A Cowboy's Guide to the Galaxy

"But, when I was a young man, I did not want to be a hero. And, when I lived in that bewildering city, in the early days of the war, life itself had become nothing but a complex labyrinth and everything that could possibly exist, did so. And so much complexity - a complexity so rich it can hardly be expressed in language - all that complexity... it bored me. In those tumultuous and kinetic times, the time of actualized desire, I myself had only the one desire. And that was, for everything to stop."

Angela Carter - The infernal desire machines of Doctor Hoffman

"Go back to your family, boy," Erron whispered as he noticed Nathan standing still before the dancing lights of the portal. His ancestor was right – there was nothing else for him to do there. His wife and his children were waiting for him back home. Still, she was gone. The love of his life had died protecting him and closure felt distant and elusive.

The younger man turned around and faced his ancestor. He shook his head.

"How come you exist?" He asked. "How come you're still alive?"

It was impossible. Improbable. Implausible.

History and futurity had finally merged.

"I met a sorcerer when I was twenty-five," Erron said. "I know it sounds crazy; I didn't believe him either. The man worked his magic on me, but I thought he was bluffing – many of the things he said were pretty obvious: there had been a war, I was an outlaw, a gun for hire... but then he spoke of my father; he said he was still alive and not even my mother knew his name or who he was; she was raped. He said: I'll come to you when you're fifty years old, twice your age now, but you won't have aged a single day." He paused for a moment; it was difficult to bring back the memories. "He saw my box of memories and grabbed it, and green smoke shrouded the box and I felt weird. He said that, for as long as those memories endure, so will I. Then he took off and I paid no mind. At least, I tried to. Years passed and then I noticed that I wasn't aging properly - I wasn't aging at all."

He crossed his arms over his chest and Nathan did the same, but the younger man wasn't even looking at him – his eyes were lost in the portal.

"What he had said about my father remained in the back of my mind for quite some time and one day, I went," Black confessed. "He owned a farm in El Paso."

Your eyes gave you away.

"He looked just like me, the bastard was my biological father. As I was leaving, I heard a young girl was calling him grandpa. That meant that I had been alone all my life but he had a family. He had ruined my mother's life, but he was loved," He stared at Nathan for a long time, drawing the invisible parallels that history had tried to erase. "Then she asked me who I was, but I couldn't talk." He looked down. "I came back that night and killed that son of a bitch," only then, Nathan faced him.

"I'm sorry for the depressing origins story," Black mumbled awkwardly, "but I guess now it's your story too, somehow."

"Why would this man stop your aging process?" Nathan managed to ask, composing himself – but Black shrugged his shoulders.

"He wanted something in return," he said. "Everybody does."

"Did she love you? Was she happy?"

Black nodded his head in silence and Nathan bit his lower lip and nodded his head as well. As the sound of yet another bomb falling on the citadel interrupted the scene, Nathan walked towards the portal and disappeared in the dancing lights.

Yvo was still there, holding Black's box of memories in his hands.

"As long as these memories endure, so will you," the old man said, and Black smiled timidly. "What now, Erron?"

"She once asked me," he remembered, "if, given the chance, I would give up this eternal youth. If by some miracle, or the hand of an Elder God I could age again, if I would take that chance."

"Boy, you know, what you two had… It could not last forever."

Black nodded his head.

"Yeah, but it wasn't supposed to end like this, not now… I need time, Yvo, she was taken from me, I'm angered," he whispered. "We all killed her – even us, the ones who loved her most."

As he crossed the portal, Erron Black disappeared. Walking towards the dancing lights, the multiplicity of lives he had lived merged into one white prism – Josephine's son, Zar's husband, Jessica's lover, Amanda's boyfriend, Alexandra's husband. And Nathan's ancestor.

Yvo stared at the smoke columns far away, in the distance. He hid the cowboy's box of memories underneath his tunic, determined to protect those memories just like Zar, Ferra and the doctor had protected them.

Now it was his turn to keep him and his story alive.

For as long as those memories endure, so will him.

Author's final notes:

As I sit down and begin this final author's note, I realize just how hard it is to let go of the stories you created for yourself. Because that's what we do when we write; we communicate with ourselves, creating stories and narratives that we need to exorcise from our system. Readers are wonderful, they are an essential compass and the greatest company ever (especially when you write fanfiction and they read as you update your story) but writing is an act of solitude and, if you are like me, you appreciate this kind of loneliness. It's a nice, quiet silence. It's introspective. It's you.

I'm shaken. I spent four years writing this story, I never thought I could commit myself like this for as long as I did. This feels like a victory and a very personal one. There were times when my interests migrated someplace else, other projects that got in the way, life... I started writing this story as a single woman and now I'm married, I've moved houses in between, the dog we had back when I first started drafting the initial chapters has been dead for two years now...

There were times when I said to myself: "Ok, I don't feel like writing, I don't feel like continuing this story, my motivation's gone." I put it on hold, I fell into a long hiatus but I never had the guts to delete the story. It crossed my mind, I'm not gonna lie, but I lacked the courage. I knew, deep down, that I was gonna finish this eventually. I just had to be wise and wait - I love this story, I worked really hard; it wasn't fair for me to feel like this was some sort of obligation. I wanted to end this story because the story deserved an ending. I didn't want to end the story so I could cross it off my to-do list. So I went back and revisited the whole thing - it had been so long, I needed to connect myself to the core of the plot, I needed to feel again that irrevocable sense of empathy that connects you with your own words. A new game had just been released, there were things that I needed to change, there were others that I needed to consider.

I finished all my other projects, this was the last piece of fanfiction that I needed to complete - and then what? I often wondered if my impossibility to bring this story to an end had anything to do with the fact that Debris was always meant to be my last piece of fanfiction. "Original fiction is what I'll do next!" I'd say but it's scary out there. What if I'm not good enough? What if nobody likes my stories? What if I never make it as an author? I was terrified, so I shielded myself in this hiatus. "First finish Debris, then go knock on doors!" Well, I have finished Debris now and I'm still terrified but at least those questions don't mean much to me now: your reviews were amazing, you liked my story, and I have finished this 60-chapters-long monster.

I'm proud of myself, I'm satisfied.

And you've been a huge part of it - thanks to every reader, reviewer, friend, consultant, editor who has helped me along the way. Thanks to those who, anonymously, have waited for a new update, thanks to those who left a review, or favorited the story, thanks to all those who wrote to me directly or chatted with me about the story. I was always fascinated to read your theories and your opinions!

The end of the story had already been planned by the time I posted the first chapter. And while many times I debated with myself about these final chapters, I decided to stick with the original plan. I never felt pressured to write exactly what my readers wanted from the story, and that was wonderful. So thanks for letting me write the story that I needed to tell.

It's been a long ride, guys, but I'm really, really happy.

I'm sorry if this final note feels like a bunch of stuff that has no logical order or correlation, I guess I just let my emotions get the best of me.

And now, as I sit down and finish this final author's note I have to admit: I'm gonna miss this story. It's gonna be weird, from this point on, not to get carried away by new ideas and plot twists for Black and the doctor. It's gonna be weird that, after four years, I won't be writing this story anymore. Or revisiting it. Or working on it.

But that's life, right?

Thanks for everything.

See you around.