There was no screech of tires or honking of horns. No chatter of people, or scuffle of shoes on the cement. The cars that should have littered the city street, the congestion of midmorning traffic, had completely vanished, the traffic lights stuck a constant green. The shop windows on either side of him glistened a little where the pale sunlight struck the glass, but there were no shoppers, inside or out. His were the only footsteps down the one-way street, the crunch of gravel permeating the air -- beyond that, it was completely silent.

It wasn't even that the city felt abandoned. Abandoned implied nobody wanted it, that people had tried to flee from a terrorizing force. When people thought of the word 'abandoned' they thought of dirty concrete, broken windows and graffiti. Here, the sun shone too brightly for the connotation of the word, the air too sweet. This was as if the people had never been there at all. It was still New York, still the city, but it smelled of flowers. From the east, a gentle breeze picked up, rolling through the maze of skyscrapers to meet the cowboy, tugging at his dirty blonde hair. Somehow, even with all the buildings, there were no shadows, the sun warming every inch of the street. Tilting his chin up a little and sliding his eyes closed, he felt the sun on his face, taking in a deep, slow breath.

Magnolias.

"I've been waiting for you, cowboy."

He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice, soft with a hint of a tease rolling up behind him, like a cool bubbling brook. When he turned around, he was standing on the street in front of the abandoned bank. She was sitting there on the curb where they'd met not a few hours beforehand, legs daintily crossed at the ankle, eyes smiling at him as meaningfully as the smile the curled her soft, round lips. A white sundress fluttered lazily in the wind, the folds sweeping gently at her knees, patterned in small wildflowers. Delicate little wedge shoes replaced the red heels she had been wearing before, cream colored ribbons laced up her shins, tied with a bow. The heavy makeup was gone, leaving only a hint of blush, a shine of gloss on her lips, the dark eye shadow replaced by a touch of eyeliner, revealing the deep hazel of her eyes. A little silver butterfly rested in the hollow of her throat, and just below one ear, a magnolia had been tucked into her rich, dark hair.

Smile deepening a little, she made a beckoning motion, patting the curb beside her.

"What took you so long?"

The way she said it, he couldn't help but laugh a little under his breath, smiling at the way she teased him. Like they were old friends. "Sorry ma'am," he replied, reaching up automatically to tip the brim of the cowboy hat that wasn't there, miming the motion instead. The gravel crunched again as he took the few steps towards her, bridging the distance between them and turning around to seat himself next to her on the curb. The sun had warmed the concrete, comforting against his palms, grass that lined the sidewalk tickled his fingertips. He hadn't noticed that before.

"Is this what home is for you?" she asked with a quirk of an eyebrow, peering out at the rows of skyscrapers, eyes tilting up to look towards where they touched the sky.

"Well, not quite -- few less buildings, few more trees," he replied with an amused grin, drawl growing thicker just thinking about his southern home. Tilting his head down, he brushed his fingers over the grass by his hand, "'N the grass is bit taller. You woulda liked it."

Next to him, she sighed a little, tilting her head back to enjoy the sunshine. "It's nice," she answered, nodding an agreement before letting her head roll to one side, cheek resting on her shoulder as she shot him another grin, "What a beautiful place to wait for a friend."

Suddenly, a wave of clarity washed over him, the meaning of her words, of the word 'waiting' becoming as clear as a water in a stream. "... you're dead," he almost didn't say, the smile falling from his face.

"Mmhm," she answered, unworried.

"Oh Em..."

Em turned to look at him then, really look at him. Curling her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on the one closest to him, giving him a meaningful look.

"Don't 'Oh Em' me, you're dead too you know."

He'd known. How could he have not -- one doesn't just close your eyes and wake up standing alone in an empty city. Bits and pieces of the scene -- the pitch black of the subway, the screech of something inhuman -- flashed in front of his eyes, but it was gone faster than a heartbeat, nothing but a memory, or the remnants of a nightmare. Looking away from Em, he tilted his head back as well, looking up at the blue sky, the large cotton clouds. At first, when he'd found himself alone, back in the city, no sight of Isaac or Zoey or Adam, he'd thought he was in Hell. How could it be anything else, without them? But the sun was too warm to be Hell, the breeze too refreshing, too cool, the air smelling too much like turned earth and a summer's day. It was too sweet to be hell, and too lonely to be heaven.

But he wasn't concerned with that. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on his bent knees, letting his head fall into one palm.

Shifting beside him, Em pushed herself gently off the curb, standing for a moment before turning to face him, lowering herself to crouch in front of him. "Don't you feel sorry for me, Cowboy Cliff." Sliding her fingertips beneath his chin, she tilted it up to face him, soft hazel eyes meeting his. "Every second of my life in this place, I lived happier than if I'd had a million years out there in the real world. I was ready to die, and now, you gotta be too." Smiling again, she leaned forward to brush her lips against his, a chaste kiss, like the fluttering of a butterfly's wings. "And now I get to show you the way. Don't you look at me with those sad eyes; I'm the luckiest girl in the world."

"I didn't get to say goodbye," Cliff answered, his low voice touched with regret. Isaac had died so quickly... he hadn't had the presence of mind to say anything meaningful, any of the things he had wanted to say. He didn't even know if he'd heard him. Lucas' body had been one of the ones he'd passed in the subway station -- the man he joked about the twins with the night before -- torn apart around the same time. If he'd had any foresight at all, he would have told Zoey goodbye right after Isaac had died -- he should have known the end was coming for them soon too. He didn't even know if Adam was still alive or not -- the coms had died before he could even try.

Cupping his face in both her hands, Em gave him another little smile, resting her forehead against his. "You're saying goodbye now," she answered, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks," Except it's not goodbye. Never goodbye." Standing, she let his face go gently, turning to walk a few steps down the street. Somehow, the sun was setting now, eclipsed a little by the buildings behind her, casting warm orange and deep purples where their bodies cast shadows on the street. Or was it rising?

"He's waiting for you, Cliff. They're waiting for you."

Looking over her shoulder at him, she extended her hand to him, her eyes laughing at him even as she smiled.

"We're waiting for you."

Pushing up off the curb, he reached to take her hand, closing his fingers around the thin, delicate ones. They were warm, from the sun or from her own inner light, he wasn't sure, but he liked the way they closed to lace with his, like she really was going to lead him home. Reaching onto her pocket, Em pulled out a pack of cigarettes just as they began to walk, tilting her head to look at him almost side-long, a mischievous grin curling her lips.

"Want one? Last chance."

Returning that same grin, he reached over to take one from the pack, sliding it between his lips.

"Yeehaw."