*It's a double update, so make sure you've read Ch. 11, 'The Rising Tide of Hope'!*

Epilogue: Wandering the City of Beginnings

(Posted 2016-02-26, Updated -)

{(CI)}

At first, Vince is crushed, because the world outside the portal is still San Fransokyo, still the same skyline and blimps he's seen for years —

— but then he notices the children-teenagers-young adults watching the pod with sharp and wary eyes (for some reason, their eyes passes over him, and they do not see him), covered in the dust of the destroyed portal, dressed in a virtual rainbow of colors, and he realizes that yes, he has made it to a different dimension —

— because the smallest one in purple is someone he recognizes; he's the same child he left locked up and unconscious, and dammit, Monique would have his head if she ever found out and does that mean that Tadashi Hamada is the one who sent Callaghan to jail?

He watches them cry over the medical robot (who sacrificed himself to save the Abigail Callaghan, who was reported as a experimental casualty in his world), inferring from conversation that Tadashi Hamada has died — that this time, it is the younger brother who faces the world with trembling lips and too-skinny shoulders, trying to hold up the impossible weight of the universe in the face of loss —

— and he finally understand the games Fate plays. She will either take the boy or his brother, or both; his dimension, where he existed in the universe to kidnap the boy, was an exception, one in the midst of millions.

Because in the end, someone always grieves; in his dimension, it is himself, Smith and Callaghan. Here, it is the boy who lost his brother because he did not exist make the sacrifice; Tadashi had been killed by the machinations of a desperate professor trying to get his daughter back.

But that is not that important now — he is here to look for the woman who went through before him, the meaning of his life who went through because of a silly mistake —

He turns back to the portal, as something tells him that he's not there — not yet —

— so he steps-floats-flies through, gazing into nothing as the multiple folds, thinly curtained veils and cracks of the universe come crashing into him once more.

(000)

Has it been a minute? days? years?

Another step from nothingness into the world of tangibility, followed by another — then another —

He is at an empty shoreline, and he sees numerous portals around him. He instinctively knows that this is San Fransokyo, and that no one can see the portals nor come into contact with them. He chooses the next portal to walk into and walks toward it, but something causes him to slow down to a stop in front of another portal in particular.

As he watches, a woman appears out the portal. Her step is full of determination, though her body slumps slightly, as if tired.

Monique, is the one word that he thinks; his eyes roams up the long brunette hair to the face — and he finds disappointment.

But she looks straight at him, and he at her — this is the first person in all the worlds to actually meet his eyes.

She looks... surprised, then... understanding. Followed by easy acceptance.

He opens his mouth then closes it, because the answer is already there. She has also been traveling through the portals, looking for something.

He fidgets, not knowing what to say. She patiently waits for him to speak first, but when he remains silent, she speaks up with a small hesitant smile.

"...Are you Lost too?"

He hears the emphasis on the word, and immediately understands.

Lost, he muses. It's like a code, an inside joke — one that only the two of them has the key to and understands. It's a language with new and different meanings behind the same old words.

Because Lost is exactly what the feeling is; the sense of loneliness, of feeling out of sync with the world, of rejection from the very air that catches in his lungs with every breath. He does not belong here.

He is Lost — he should know, as he felt the echoes of what he is feeling now often enough in the past, before he met Smith and Monique.

And he recognizes a kindred traveler, a Lost traveler — the woman standing in front of him.

He sees the woman waiting, and realises he hasn't answered her yet.

"Lost," he muses again at the word, at how it fits so well. "...I suppose so."

"As you've probably guessed, me too," she says with a sad sigh. "We're a long ways from home." She looks back at the portal she came through wistfully.

He follows her gaze to the portal then back at her again. He finally notes the skin-tight suit with a Krei company logo.

She glances at him and sees him observing the logo; she fiddles with her pocket as she answers the silent question. "I was in an experiment sponsored by Krei when the portal..." she runs a hand through her hair. "It was theoretically sound and already had some experimental success before I went in, but there was some sort of malfunction that broke the connection my pod had with the portal."

She sighs again and looks up into the sky. "The only way was forward."

"Ah." he says in understanding. And he does understand. He has spent the past few months to find a way to pass those 'malfunctions' to get to the other side — where Monique was.

"...You too?" she asks, curiosity clear in her eyes.

He shakes his head. "I am looking for someone." he says simply. In those words the whole story is told: someone he loved went through, and he is here to get her back.

Vince looks out at the ocean and looks unseeing at the San Fransokyo bridge, losing himself a little to memories of Monique. The bridge looks different; instead of the Asian-styled gates, he sees purely geometric squares that make up the bridge. Monique would have begun to rant about the 'historical influences on art', 'different color scheme', and 'stylistic backgrounds' that was probably the cause of the differences.

Vincent shakes himself when he finds himself analyzing why the bridge might be different in Monique's point of view and glances back at the woman. She also has a far-off look in her eyes as she gazes at the sky. It is a cloudless blue that is slowly turning red-orange-pink as the evening comes — time passes around them, but it doesn't hold as much meaning as it had before — he looks back at the bridge, and the lights on the are shining more and more clearly as the sky darkens.

With thoughts still on Monique, he turns to the woman next to him. "Have you seen...?" Vincent trails off, unsure how to start describing the person that is Monique: energetic, optimistic, self-conscious in one situation then confident in another, strong yet... so, so frail inside.

The woman shakes her head ruefully. "I haven't seen anyone yet. You're the first who's seen and heard me."

He can't help but sigh at the bitter sting of disappointment yet again.

There is a soft pat on his shoulder. "So you're looking for someone who went through before you," she says sympathetically. "I partially understand what you're going through. I left behind a father."

She hesitates, appearing to wish to say something. Vincent notes all this from his periphery, thinking to himself that it's so very easy to read the woman. But he does and says nothing, looking off into the distant horizon of the not-their San Fransokyo city line.

She begins, uncertainty clear in her voice.

"I've walked through these dimensions while trying to fumble my way back, and..." she hesitates again before continuing. "In most worlds, if the other-me chose to go into the portal, I — the other-me always made it back alive somehow."

She looks at him and sees him watch her. Their eyes tangle, as she speaks again.

"Has... that been the same for you? One detail that remains unchanged in all the dimensions?"

He thinks back to all the worlds he has been in. Two pairs of siblings, a loss of one sibling in one pair or the other.

"...Perhaps," he answers, not really sure but vaguely understanding where the woman is going with this. If they are traveling in one direction and there is one detail that is the same, assuming that the dimensions are organized in some fashion, it would make sense to go in the one direction where the detail is the same as found in his own world.

"Could there be a chance that our worlds — " The woman begins, and Vince finishes the sentence.

"— that our worlds are related? I would put it as a 70% chance of them being related. Even if they are not, I suspect our worlds are still closer to each than most."

The woman lights up. "Oh, then would you travel back with — " she begins excitedly, only to be brusquely cut off.

"I have to find someone."

Vince tries not to show his discomfort at the sorely disappointed look on her face.

"Is it Monique?" she asks. At his look of surprise, she explains simply. "It was the first thing you said when you saw me."

"Ah." he says.

And what else is there to say?

Awkward silence hangs between the two until the woman sighs, then meets his eyes again. "Well. I'm off. Hopefully we'll meet again — "

Something tells Vincent that he shouldn't be letting her go. It's the same feeling he has felt about Monique's survival — it makes no sense but there is not even a smidgen of doubt that he should stick with her for the rest of his journey; she is somehow very, very important to him. So he is not so surprised when he finds his body moving before his mind, catching the woman's wrist to stop her before he could come up with the words of a suitable excuse.

When she looks up questioningly, he clears his throat, letting her go.

He tries to word what he wants to say several times, but it all ends in a cough. She looks more and more concerned as he continues to cough.

He finally clears his throat again and gives her a suggestion; he doesn't do very well asking for help (or asking for anything, for that matter), and he hopes that she understands what he tries to say with so many words.

"...I believe my sister is quite close. If you do not mind the... detour, I would not particularly... mind your presence."

The woman's concerned and worried expression morphs into puzzlement, surprise, then joy. She smiles brightly back at him with a knowing look in her eyes.

He can't help smiling back in relief. She has understood. Right then, he can't help but compare her to Monique; she is very much like her, showing her emotions so openly and yet effortlessly understanding his lack of ability to express himself the same way.

They spend a few more moments smiling softly at each other, both relieved in their own way that they no longer need to be alone. The sky has darkened to a rich pink-yellow-purple, and a twinkle low in the sky proclaims the arrival of the evening star.

He clears his throat once again and stretches out a hand toward the woman in formal invitation. "As Smith, my — my father," he pauses, feeling a shiver of delight at the word. He uncharacteristically ignores the negative thought of whether he deserves Smith as a father and continues. "As my father often reminds me to do, let me introduce myself. My name is Vincent. Vincent Kruger."

There is a slight look of surprise when she hears his last name, but it passes quickly. She takes his hand and shakes it, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

"Nice to meet you, fellow traveler. My name is Abigail. Abigail Callaghan."

A/N - Hey there.

You peeps, it's the end. We're finally here. Cosmic Intervention is complete.

Ha, the funny thing is, I actually finished writing chapter 11: The Rising Tide of Hope (Hiro waking up in hospital) way back when Vincent first showed up in chapter 5. (Many things have happened between then and now, and I am kind of glad I already wrote the ending, cuz I would read it when I was discouraged and get my Hamada feels back)

The Epilogue, on the other hand, is pretty open-ended. I have some vague ideas of what might happen to Vincent and Abigail, but I am not going to write about them. Maybe if my muse drags me back to them one rainy day.

Also, I don't think I mentioned it enough: Reviewers, you were the saviors of this story.

Without you peeps, I would have given up at chapter 6, when I had to come up with a dialogue between two OCs. (I had planned for Smith and Vincent, but they were supposed to be plot points, not important at all; then Smith and Vincent crept up on me with their family feels :S) Every time when I was about to abandon the story, someone would pop in and leave a little review, with either a 'plz update soon' or 'this story is great'.

Though some say that is annoying, I was encouraged. A lot. Thanks so much.

And look where I am now! I can now officially say that I have completed a story!

Again and again, thanks for reading this fic. I don't know what story will sweep me up next time, but this has been a fun ride. Thanks for riding it with me.

Cyber-love and cyber-hugs to everyone,

New and Old

(if you want, check me out at newandold or newandoldskies on tumblr!)