For the Last Ship Standing Competition with the prompts gliding, something (or in this case, someone) falling, and Far Away by Nickelback which inspired this in so many different ways because that song is pretty much Wolfstar in a nutshell… :D

There is a whisper on the wind, always a whisper. Faint and unintelligible, but so, so familiar. He's right there, you think. Just there on the other side and all you have to do is reach out a hand.

The veil sways back and forth seductively, her frayed edges flapping against the stone of the floor as a cool breeze brushes your cheek. They always said death would greet you like an old friend, but in this case you think perhaps she is a temptress. And you're falling for her with every step forward until you are upon the dais and on the edge of something either very brave or very foolish.

And then you think you hear him, really hear him this time, saying your name like a prayer.

RemusRemusRemus.

The words beat against your chest in time with your heartbeat, and you want it to stop, but if it does you are afraid that you'll lose him. And he's right there, isn't he?

RemusRemusRemus.

Isn't he?

"You can't come back," says a voice behind you. You turn, both startled and disappointed that you've lingered long enough to be caught. The man in the doorway is unfamiliar, but he doesn't appear concerned that a stranger has somehow made his way into the Department of Mysteries. He leans against the doorframe and nods his head at the veil dancing in the wind. "You won't be able to come back," he repeats. "It's a one way trip, my friend."

You suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed comes as a relief. There is comfort in knowing how it ends. "Fine by me," you say and you hear the desperation in your voice. It's pathetic. "I have nothing left for me here."

"Suit yourself." The man shrugs his shoulders and turns to leave, but you stop him.

"Wait! Where are you going? You won't say anything, will you?"

The man gives you one final smile. It's the kind of look a person gives someone when they know it is the last time they will ever see them. You would know. You've seen that look many times before.

"There is a reason we are called Unspeakables, mate."

And with that he's gone and once again you are at the mercy of a whisper. Of a promise. And there is no going back now.

You come to stand before the veil and she sways, brushing against your fingertips as you reach out for her. Your hand inches forward to pass through the archway, to feel the other side, convinced that it will come in contact with his because he must be right there waiting for you. He's still calling for you.

RemusRemusRemus.

And your heartbeat calls back.

SiriusSiriusSirius.

But as always, you are oh, so very wrong.

The cold sucks you in and there is no other side; there is only down, down, down, and you are falling.

It's a waterfall of colors in your peripheral vision, of people going about their days.

There's a couple fighting in the kitchen at midnight, dishes smashing against the wall.

There's a girl throwing a stick for a dog who doesn't understand the concept of fetch.

There's a boy running along a red dirt road in Africa, bare feet and swollen belly and a smile brighter than anything you have ever seen.

There is laughing and crying and blood everywhere, and you think perhaps this is how we all spend eternity. Perhaps we fall to our death forever, watching other lives blur by. And this is what you get for taking death into your own hands, isn't it, Remus?

But then you hit the ground, and you ought to feel the impact but you don't. The first thing you notice is that the stars don't burn as bright here. Wherever here is.

Everything is muted, oppressive and weighing on your lungs that don't, won't, can't breathe anymore because you are dead. You know and you don't know how you know, but you are dead, and it's not like how you imagined it at all. You are suffocating.

Maybe this is hell.

You almost have to laugh because things like heaven and hell had never crossed your mind before now and no, this is not how most people describe hell. There is no fire and brimstone, no searing pain, no devil with a pitchfork. No, this isn't hell. But this certainly isn't heaven.

Or is it?

Because you swear you still hear that whisper on the wind, you still hear him calling for you. There is still hope for something and his voice echoes in your chest, pulling you onto your knees and then your unsteady feet.

RemusRemusRemus.

And you are gliding mindlessly along a path that has already been set out for you while your eyes come into focus. It's all so familiar and yet, nothing is the same, faded stars and grass between your toes and the sound of water kissing a distant shoreline. It's a distorted memory of sorts, and you start to wonder if perhaps you are on the grounds of Hogwarts when you see it.

The leaves flutter in the wind singing a melody you've long forgotten. It's your willow tree the way it was meant to be, devoid of gnarly fists and creaking spine, its branches weeping over someone you almost don't recognize despite the fact that you've been looking for him all the while.

That's Sirius for you, though.

His face is softened, younger than the last time you saw him. He no longer bears the weight of a man who's seen the inside of an Azkaban cell. He's whole and happy and perfect, and you wonder if you look different as well.

The whisper is gone now, replaced by his barking laugh and the sound of his voice calling you home, and the weight on your chest is lifted.

"I've been waiting," he says, pulling you into an embrace, and you gasp for air. You breathe in his scent, tangling your fingers in his hair, silently vowing to not let go. Not again. "Took you long enough."

"Where are we?" you ask.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Another life, I think," he says. "It's rather heavenly compared to our old one, I'll say that much. Look." He turns you in his arms and presses his chest against your back and then points over your shoulder toward the western sky. The clouds have shifted, allowing the full moon to show its face.

"You're free, love," he says, kissing your cheek. "You're free."

You swallow around the lump in your throat, and tighten your hold on his arms to keep from falling to your knees. And the oppressive weight is on your chest again, but this time it's from joy. "What…what do we do now?" you ask between shaky breaths.

He smiles against your neck. "Whatever we want."

You turn your head to meet his eyes. "I love you," you whisper before capturing his mouth with yours. Because this is all you've ever wanted. This is all you care to do, and once again, your heartbeat tattoos his name across your ribcage.

SiriusSiriusSirius

And you hear his own call back.

RemusRemusRemus

But something feels… wrong. His hands travel to your shoulders.

RemusRemusRemus.

Hands on shoulders shaking you.

"REMUS!"

Shaking you awake.