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There was a small relief given when Mort affirmed that he did remember the two Hunters they had unintentionally befriended. Surely it was something they would have to discuss once he fully gained back his memories, for it was Mort that said there was no such thing as a kind Hunter, which Belladonna had swiftly disproved twice, if not three times. But now was not the time for that conversation, and certainly not that potential fight, so instead the witch continued on in her explanation. It was odd to talk about something they'd experienced together as though they hadn't, but still the witch cast about for details that might help coalesce his obviously tormented thoughts into coherent memories.
The hand against his head and the other one that had found his hoodie did not go unnoticed, but until Belladonna finished talking she did not move her own hands. For a long time after that she kept them against him while her thumb rubbed a soft pattern against his shin. They were uncomfortable gestures he enacted, things to ground himself. Which made the witch feel a little left out, for wasn't she anchor enough? Still, it was silly to let it get to her so she only listened quietly at his explanation of what happened of what he could remember.

The witch's eyes went momentarily wide when she realized he had been at the celebration too, that she might have found him out in the open like that. It was best they found each other when they did, otherwise she would have been a sobbing mess in front of hundreds of people, which just wouldn't do. Further unease came when he mentioned Clover being at the celebration, which made the witch wonder just how many other Hunters in golems there might have been. To think that they had invaded Halloween on their special night was enough to make a vague spark of anger flare within her, but it quickly died out as he continued, as his expression grew worse.
The exploding pumpkin had been part of the celebration, had been the light in the darkness, a metaphor not lost on Belladonna, but she only gave him a small squeeze of his leg. There was little else she could do at that point anyways.
It wasn't until he pulled the hoodie closer that the witch almost moved, but he made a familiar noise she'd missed and she stilled. Listening to what details he remembered, it was easy to pick out what had happened. There wasn't much missing from his tale, mostly little things that could be filled in incrementally.
But the most stark thing was his shivering. Mistakenly convinced it was due to cold, Belladonna let go of him to lean back and fish behind her pillows. After a bit of wiggling the witch turned back around to find an expression of such lost emotion on Mort's face that it cracked her heart, made her clutch the hoodie in her hands a little too tightly.

"Its alright, love." Belladonna whispered as she rose up onto her knees and leaned forward to press a kiss against his temple. She gestured at him to raise his arms so the witch could pull this new, clean jacket over his head and shut out the chill. Once done with that task she sat back on her legs so that she was slightly raised and could lean forward, press one hand to his jaw as if that might ease his ache.
As for everything else, she only gazed at him a moment more before she let out a small sigh.
"There were... Many smaller battles. First we had to fight that big, dark monster... Then when it was defeated you disappeared and... And somehow got turned into a Hunter's weapon. And everyone attacked you, but I was the one who... Who finished you off while I tried to yank you away from the Hunter you were attached to." She momentarily lifted her free arm and flexed her elbow and fingers in a stilted, mechanical fashion. "You were essentially Thor. And then just as you were disappearing, Arel appeared and splashed something on you... And you were back, and we fought against the Hunter leader and Red was there. I healed her, and then... She took you back. She just reached inside you and you were gone. Right in front of me."
An angry down turn of the witch's mouth could not be stopped as she shook her head.
"I grabbed at Red and shouted and she protected me until she threw your gem at that Hunter's weapon... And you were back until... Until Alexander said he knew a way to stop this. And you told me you'd be back soon, not to despair..." Now she really had to stop because she was starting to get a little choked up. Her voice had taken on a leaden quality, had become thick with tears that wanted to spill over.
But, they didn't have to. He was here now, he was with her now... But was she finally enough to keep him this time? Or was this just another brief moment of love before he would be pulled away once more?

"When I went to fetch your pets... I... I couldn't go in the building. Ren had to do it for me. And he grabbed me this." Belladonna told him as she tugged the heavy fabric over his head. It was odd, something she had done for her scareling cousins at family gatherings, but never for someone her own age or larger than herself. Whereas it should have felt odd, the witch did not mind one bit and in fact took a strange joy in the action. Where once the fabric had smelt of her zombie, now it surely exuded a soft vanilla scent, as well as any numerable scents of lavender, patchouli and a variety of incense spices.
A bit of silence stretched out between them, as Belladonna sat there and waited for the memories to sink in or surface. Patience was not something she wanted for, since it was easy when Mort was involved, so she only let her hands rest on his knee, face angled up to watch the emotions play across his features.
They were not happy emotions, as they had not been earlier this evening. She wondered if they would turn happy at all this night, or if they would need a good rest and the light of the pumpkin sun to fix this wound they shared.

Another cycle surfaced, another sense of deja vu. Mort dropped his head and Belladonna reached out toward him, but only grabbed the back of his hood and tugged it over and onto his hair.
"And I told you..." She began as she fussed over him, laid the hood so that the fabric folded nicely and brushed some hair from his forehead. "That you're not a joke."
Yet as she pressed her palm to his cheek, his hand covered her's and she nodded at his offer of explanation.
Everything seemed to slow down then, as Mort reached out and opened his palm to the witch. A beautiful gem stared at her, electric blue and glistening. Yet as she stared down at it, a finger was taken and swirled against his cheek. A pang of memory smarted within her of back when this whole thing had started. Back then it had been easy to take in stride, for this was for the greater good. And it had always been for everyone else, but the fear she had once had of this actually doing something horrible to him had actually come to pass.
Yet before she could even say anything her hand was taken from her soft chill and pressed to his chest. Her eyes went wide as she realized exactly what he meant by this... This gem was... Was...
Suddenly the room swam as she flicked her gaze from his chest down to the gem and back. This gem was his entire being, his entire essence, him.
"Oh, Mort..." Was all Belladonna could say before she moved her free hand to clasp at the back of his neck and bring him to her. She leaned forward so that her hand remained on his chest and that the gem still rested between them, but so that they were protected with her own body.

What could she possibly say? What was there to say? Please don't ever offer yourself up again?
He had literally given his entire being over to Red and she had taken him. Now that Belladonna realized this was his core in a physical form and that he had given it away, it suddenly hit her that they had experienced a miracle. People weren't supposed to come back from this sort of thing. Once their core was obliterated, they were gone.
And Mort had been gone too. But now he was back, here with Belladonna, cradled in her arms and safe.
The witch bit down on a sob, pressed her face into his shoulder to keep from once more breaking out into crying. She took a deep breath and began to pull back, but quickly placed another kiss against his jaw.
"Anything else?" Belladonna asked in her lightest voice, which would have been much brighter had all of this not been so deathly serious. It was hard, but she managed a small smile for him, something for him to hopefully brighten him, even a little.

The noise of disbelief only made the witch momentarily pull her eyebrows down in a small pout, but it was quickly let go and Belladonna's face smoothed out into a more caring expression. That first time he'd ignored her reply as well, had smoothed past it with giving himself up for the greater good. So now that he was attempting a repeat, she let it happen. Why not let this little circle complete itself too? So many cycles were repeating tonight, that as Belladonna began to count them she hoped certain ones would not resurface. Their brutal fight when they became so infected by Insanity that they were turned into monsters, their questioning of the others presence and validity, even the oddness they each experienced but had not spoken of in their strange travel with Ofelia and Clover. Another image rose up in the witch's mind, one she had put away from herself simply because it was one she could not handle. She had never gotten to tell him what she saw when they walked through that door, had not spoken of the little zombie ghoul that had her own eyes and curling hair. Perhaps it would continue to go unspoken, maybe it was an image best left hidden. So much had happened already, so much to be absorbed that adding anything else would feel a burden and that was not needed.
Mort began slowly, stilted and confused. His hand with the gem rose to his chest and Belladonna moved her own hand so that she could curl it around his fist. It was a small gesture, but one she hoped convey the idea that she would always protect him if she could.
And when he began to speak in the most stuttering fashion she'd ever heard, Belladonna only took a deep breath to harden herself against what would come next.

All his jumbled words and improperly started sentences became a sign of something horrid lurking under the surface, that same black tar creature that had squatted in the witch's stomach and eaten her from the inside out. But this was worse, because now it had hooked its claws into Mort, tried to bring him down with it. Stubborn resolve bloomed within the witch and she tightened her hand around his and his crystal, her face patient and gentle as she waited for him to get his words together enough to speak.
Because she watched him intensely, she almost spoke a number of times, almost interrupted him to assuage his fears, but stopped when she saw the little bloom of red in his eyes.
And when he continued, when he spoke of voices that whispered in his ear, Belladonna had to hold her breath to keep from gasping. He'd come back tainted, he'd come back with a grey mar. Worst of all he came back with so many doubts, but with love for her still. It tore at the witch, made her wounds ache further to know that he'd wanted her too. The knowledge that she hadn't been alone in her loneliness was foreign, but it gave her the strength to hear his final words.

Softly, but with enough force behind it to show the conviction of her feelings, Belladonna's hand left his chest and both her hands cupped his face. She leaned forward so that she was close enough to be the only thing in his line of sight, glad she had pulled his hood up so that it effectively blocked out the rest of her room. Her expression remained soft, but her vision began to crystallize on the edges as tears tried to force their way out. A deep breath and quick sweep of eyelids made a few spill over, but Belladonna only opened them again to look at Mort.
"This is a happy reunion yet. There will be time for joy, but first we must work through our sorrow. We will be happy, very soon, but for right now, it is alright to indulge in the sadness. And our story can go however we want it. We are the ones who are writing it, so if it goes a little off course who's to say we can't bring it back? We have time, Mort." Her fingertips began to shake against him so that she pressed them a little further back until they brushed against his hair. "And I am safe now. I am happy with you. It does not matter to me that you have to break down, because that isn't forever. Do what you must to heal yourself, even if it seems weak. You're not weak, you're massively strong but strength is a combination of weaknesses that are able to be conquered. You haven't done a thing wrong, darling. And I don't care about the whispers, they... They can be fixed. Somehow. We'll find a way."
More tears spilled over, but still Belladonna refused to let her gaze stray from him, even if it was torture to look into his stricken eyes and see pain she could not easily fight off.
"Mort, you are enough. You are more than enough. I want you no matter what."

Cyclical to the end, Belladonna only gave him one small smile before everything came crashing down. The gem was dropped and while the witch almost let go of him to retrieve it, she instead only had time to move her head from his face before Mort fell against her. Pulled in one direction while pushed in another, Belladonna quickly shifted herself so that she was in his lap before she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. Her arms curled around him tight, did their best to protect him from the invisible monsters that had already done their damage. And like every other time, Belladonna hated that she had not been able to do anything to help him. That she had been there, after vowing she finally would go with him, and still she had not been able to stop this horror, this deep sadness.
Once again all she could do was sit there while he despaired.

Carefully the witch pulled his hood back before one hand curled into his hair and did her best to soothe without words or noises. Not one to enact mothering tendencies, the witch stayed quiet as he cried, but did carefully comb his hair, tenderly, in the fashion of lovers. It was a simple gesture, but one she knew he liked, one that at least would help even a little. One that was sweet as well as let him know she was still here with him, that she would not abandon him.
And as he sat there, Belladonna did her best not to cry as well. This insurmountable sadness weighed down her darling zombie, made him unable to enjoy their reunion before he could express what had happened. And honestly, the witch had been a part of that. As much as she hated to admit it, Ramona had been right. The witch had praised Mort's heroic tendencies more than anyone, but as Belladonna only squeezed him against her tighter, she just could not fully accept that.
It was because he was innately good, because he was more decent than she would ever be, that he had sacrificed himself. So while it had been painful, he'd still survived. He'd still walked down that road and back again, mostly whole. Hopefully, it would not be a hollow victory and instead teach them both something immensely valuable.
If nothing else it would at least be the deepest pit either of them had ever found themselves stranded in. They were lucky that the other always seemed capable of rescuing the other, but entrenched with such sorrow, the witch feared for the day that her loving patience would not be enough to pull Mort from his sorrow.

Finally, it felt ages but Belladonna would never complain, he began to relax in her arms. A low, dull hum struck up and she almost smiled. The press of his head against her's made her arms release their heavy hold on him, so the witch pulled back a little so that she could straighten Mort up and press her forehead to his. With him situated against her, still connected through touch, she reached up and began to wipe away the little streaks of red that remained.
Words kept popping up in her mind, begged to be said. Kind phrases, encouraging sayings, thoughtful and poetic expressions about how strong he was and how valiant and how very proud of him she was. All this and more vied for attention in her mind, but the witch said none of those things. She only whisked away the offending color from his face, carelessly smeared them against the fabric of her skirt, and reached back up for more. Sure to be delicate, she even pulled off his glasses and wiped away what tears had splashed onto the lenses before she carefully returned them to their proper position. After that there was a moment of pause where silence reigned, where only the filtered golden light of the moon danced between them, before Belladonna leaned forward to place a gentle kiss against his mouth.
"I love you."

Leading was something at once easy and irregular for the witch, as it was an action she found herself occasionally in, but also felt she was adept at completing. When Mort so easily complied with her, it only furthered this little thought. So even though she knew she was capable of leadership, even though she was more than alright with pushing this relationship further along, Belladonna had not been prepared for the minute widening of Mort's eyes or the surprised expression that flitted over his face. The combination of her words and his carefully trained gaze upon her made the witch's heart speed up suddenly in her chest to the point she was sure he could hear it.
But the moon shone through still, refused to go down before the couple were ready to call this night at an end. Like a kind friend who kept watch over them, it cast them in a golden glow, lent an odd, soft quality to the room and their skin. Light glinted off the edge of Mort's hair, caught the curve of his jaw, made everything seem warmer than it was.
In the morning, Belladonna would surely recall the moment in such dramatically picturesque detail that she would bring it up to the zombie merely for the sensation of reliving the moment. Surely he would smile at her and maybe take a curl of hair between his fingers and, if she were very lucky, laugh.

So distracted with such thoughts of romance the witch missed the removal of his glove and only realized what had happened when two chill hands, one metal and one tender, cupped her face. It happened so quickly, did not take a longer amount of time than normal, and therefore made her gasp, softly, as sweetly as one in love can gasp. And still her cheeks blushed under his hands and a smile formed upon her mouth. The sensation of metal against her cheek was odd, unnatural but not unwelcome. It was a part of Mort just as much as any other piece of him was, but Thor had also been so desperately fought for earlier that now it touched her skin and only bestowed a sharp chill instead of pain. Such a thing made the witch sweep her eyes close and thank her patron Goddess for such a blessing. That, perhaps after all, the young witch's fighting had not been in vain. That her own attempts at a rescue had yielded a save, if only a slightly delayed one.
Yet her eyes opened back up and watched with a strange sense of delighted excitement as Mort smiled at her, and returned her love.
Similar to a physical blow, but one made smooth and caring and honestly quite pleasurable by the sentiment, his words found their target in her heart and the witch stared at him in mild disbelief. For two weeks she'd experienced a pain in her chest when she thought of him, an ache that could not be cured. And now it was like that had never even existed. All those tears and screams and wails of despair had only smoothed out the foundation and now they stood on something beautiful, something new the witch had never had the glorious chance of being near.
A bright smile was his reply, along with a small, surprised laugh.

He really does love me.
All thoughts of second doubt, all thoughts of whether she was enough or deserved this or if she was right from him flew from her mind. There was nothing else to think of but him, and this moment that was beyond precious but was not fragile in the sense that either of them could break it. They had come so very far, suffered so very much and this confession was one that served to strengthen an already strong bond.
With such a well of emotion within Belladonna, she did not at all question herself as she launched herself forward and tugged Mort into a kiss, one she fueled with all the passion she'd had to hold to herself for the past two weeks. She did not at all worry that she suddenly felt wanton about the way she crushed herself to him, or that perhaps this was a push when he did not need one. There was nothing but her singular love for him and the fact that he returned it.
Unwilling to let go, the witch at least reigned herself in for a moment to let another laugh out, a pure, undiluted sound of joy.
"I will always shine for you, Mort." Belladonna told him before she pulled him back to her, pulled him back for another kiss. She knew she was supposed to drop this now and ask if he was tired, because her limbs had started to ache, had begun to grow weary. But such a wonderful declaration of love could not go without an equally passionate kiss to seal the endeavor.

Ages, it had felt like absolute ages since the witch had really and truly laughed. Actually laughed too, none of this faintly happy enough to let a little additional air mingled with a note out. True joy registered into action, legitimate happiness. And as the witch laughed, she felt some of the edge from before taken off. The room, while still mostly flooded with moonlight, had felt stark before. Had been a room that held worries and fears and more sorrow. For two weeks the witch had cried and pleaded with the fates to bring back her lover, but even his return had not fully dissipated that negative feeling her room had taken on.
But her laugh did. The giggle worked to dissolve a portion of that unfortunate mood, so as Mort caught her and returned her passion, as well as mumbled his own love against her, it only made Belladonna laugh more. Torn between kissing back and returning the love, the witch found a compromise with stifling her giggles with a return kiss. His sudden passion surprised her, but only excited her more as it was a pure expression of his feelings for her. Exactly how much he cared for her was shown through each new push forward, each new finger through her hair. Each new word he whispered made her more and more giddy until he pulled back and she wanted to scream with joy. Her heart felt close to exploding as the sadness melted away from her, from her room, from her life.
"I love you too." She finally whispered as he pulled back, close enough that words could be barely spoken and still heard. To be so close, to be so loved and held in such a manner was the greatest salvation the witch had yet experienced. Similar to having just shed a new skin, the sensation of drastic melancholy to utter happiness was welcome and fit perfectly. The witch's hands reached up to fix his glasses, to skim against whatever part of him they happened across.

"I cannot decide if I am tired or not." Belladonna finally offered with a stilted, half joking sigh. "Just when I think I am ready to lie down, you kiss me and I find I am not so sleepy anymore." Honestly, it wasn't as though either of them would fall asleep so soon anyways. Even if they snuck under the covers they would cuddle and whisper in the dark to the other. Belladonna would want to lie with her face pressed against his chest and she knew Mort would not be able to drift off with such a distraction. There were still questions to be asked, still little curiosities that were a bit too heavy for the currently light mood. Along with questions were answers that would ruin this wonderfully beautiful moment, answers that would finally lay out the choices and paths before the couple. And naturally there were stories of their time apart to be told. Sad ones, cautiously happy tales and tearful weavings that needed to be hidden in the darkness before they could be fully uttered. A few additional tears would surely be shed, yet they should only come after such great happiness when the deepness of night would keep them safe.
Finally Belladonna only gave him a quick peck on the nose with a wink before she pressed her forehead back to his. Hands folded against his chest as she smiled up at him.
"Whatever you want, darkling. We'll do whatever you want."

So grateful for that little rumble of noise, Belladonna unconsciously mimicked it back, though her's was not the same deep sound. More like a poor attempt at a kitten's purr, the witch only screwed up her mouth into a pout and tried again. This attempt was just as pathetic as the first one, but it only made her laugh. With the oppressive atmosphere from before obliterated, she felt almost back to normal. A strange shade still lurked on her heart, but that was easy to deal with now that she had her Mort back.
Yet she had posed him a choice that he had to mull over, so the witch wiggled in place on his lap before she folded her hands into the pocket of his hoodie and patiently waited for his response. It was a bit peculiar that when things got serious or something terrible had happened, when stress was high and emotions even higher, Belladonna could wait forever. If Mort needed time to work his thoughts out or needed someone to sit by him until he could overcome his sorrow, she would not budge. But the moment things turned light, the moment he returned to a happy state she became drastically impatient. A simple matter of what to do next had her fingers pulling at the lint pieces inside his hoodie pocket, a small wait had her batting her eyelashes at him as though that would help him make up his mind and when he 'mmmr'd' one last time, the witch could not stop herself from shaking her head with her eyes squeezed shut so that their noses skimmed back and forth.

After that a grin was given and the witch opened her eyes, wide and curious as to what his request would be.
What was asked was not what was expected. So much so that the witch was unable to keep the crestfallen emotion off her face. It wasn't disappointment in his request, not that at all. Quite the opposite, for it was disappointment in the requestee.
In attempt to wipe away the surely worrying look, Belladonna bit down on her lip and averted her gaze. Flying herself was easy, it took little to no effort. Since she'd been doing it from the age of seven, it had become second nature. But carrying another person, let alone the one thing she'd just lost and only gained back by a sheer miracle...
"I do not... I do not know how strong my magic is..." Though it had never been something proven, after such immense sorrow it was generally expected that one's magic might have suffered a certain hit as well. Flying another person did not take too much magic, but Belladonna had the fear that she had been put through such an emotional gauntlet that it would be difficult to concentrate on the task Mort requested.
But it was still a request from him, still something he'd asked for.
"But I can try! I really can, if its what you want! I don't mind!!"
Because it seemed a sin to refuse Mort anything anymore.

A momentary pause permeated between them, a hesitation of words and actions. A sick feeling pulled at Belladonna's stomach, one she had been able to avoid most of her life by refusing to refuse anyone's request of her. The fact that she'd induced it because of Mort was enough to nearly make her keel over in shame, so when he spoke next the witch was only given one option. Carefully she removed her hands from his pockets and flopped backwards onto the bed. It was dramatic, naturally, and she covered her face with both hands so that when she spoke, it came out hollowed and distorted.
"I knoooow~" She replied in a voice that just skirted past being a whine. "I don't know if its messed up or not. I can fly myself, that's easy. But I do not want to risk finding out that my magic is not what it used to be with something as precious as you."
Hands remain pressed against her face as Belladonna's face turns a bright red, but she doesn't even bother to take the words back. They are precisely how she feels, so there is no need. Already she expressed her love, so there really is not reason for her to be embarrassed, but still her blush persists.
For a long moment the witch laid there and listened to Mort speak before she heaved a sigh and sat back up. Her hands reached out to find his, to hold his chill between her palms and relish just how wonderful it felt for him to be within her grasp once more. To be only a reach away, only a breath away, close enough to touch whenever she pleased.
"I promise to take you flying tomorrow. I think a good rest will do us both wonders." A bounce was snuck in there as she moved back closer to him so that it was apparent she wasn't ready for that good rest just yet.

As for what to do next, the witch could only crawl back into his lap and cradle her head in the crook of his neck before she spoke.
"So if you have something else you'd like to do now, that would be best." Because anything else suggested at this point would be given, for Belladonna could not refuse him twice. Not when he had just come back from essentially being dead, not when he smiled so sweetly and hardly ever asked a thing of her.
Still feeling quite affectionate she reached up to press a small kiss to the side of his throat.
"Anything you'd like. Anything at all."
Just not flying or going out.
A bit of guilt sliced through her for the thought, for who was she to deny him anything? After all they'd been through, after she'd only ever refused him one thing before and then gone back on that, now she could deny him everything? Another kiss was placed, another supplication of her want to make him happy.
"As your shooting star, I am obligated to fulfill your every command. So wish away."