[Khentii Mountains, Mongolia] Genghis Khan

Theresa opens her eyes after feeling a presence, pleasantly surprised to find Aladdin. Her eyes crinkle ever so slightly at the corners, lips curling mere millimeters. They have spent time together in these last few weeks, perhaps as friends. She certainly thinks of him as one. As such, she has been far more emotive with him, relatively speaking. 

Quietly, she listens to the start of Edgar Rice Burroughs' poem, relishing it. The words wash over her like cool ink, some scratched into her skin with a pen. The silence after he finishes the first stanza is as welcome as he is, like a cool breeze on a hot summer's day. She takes it, basking in it along with him. Where his thoughts stray, hers follow, friends walking down a winding path of what was and will never be again. 

"Peace," Theresa answers him, her voice scarcely louder than the wind through the vegetation around them. An ironic answer, seeing as she watches as Behter bleeds out into the dirt, Temujin and Qasar successful in killing him. In those few moments as light fades from his vision, he thinks of his mother, his home, his choices...

"How are you, friend?" Theresa asks. She doesn't feel right in her skin right now, like everything is just an inch to the left and she cannot quite tell just yet. 

The small smile that Theresa has only grows. It makes her look so much younger, so much more beautiful. "I am an unusual woman," she says in response, a touch of humor in her tone. "When there is less to focus on, it becomes easier to set it all aside," she explains to him. "Instead of the white noise of New York, this is like... an orchestra I can listen to, but let fade away," she says. "Being in the moment is... difficult for me."

Theresa's smile fades, but only to give way to surprise. "Ares? I ran into him, as well. Gave him a reading," she says, nodding her head in thought. "He is... not how I remember him. I do not know if that is for good or ill, but it is," she says a bit thoughtfully. "What did you two speak on?" she asks, curious. 

When Aladdin turns to food, the smile returns. "I am glad you are getting a chance to choose how your days and nights are spent," she says, feeling a touch of pride at that, something teetering on the edge of possessive. She can taste the meat on her tongue, full of flavor. "I have enjoyed having you around, Aladdin," she murmurs, pleased to have someone, anyone, by her side like this, even if it is scraps. Even if it is a momentary distraction in the face of eternity. To her, it is everything.

Theresa has never had a friend before... not one she actually thinks might see her as one, too. 

"I think I would rather be boring, sometimes," Theresa answers. "But I might just end up having the same problem as I do now," she says with a shrug. She has gotten so emotive with him, like a flower blooming to show off all their colors. 

Once more, Theresa basks in his presence, listening and being here in the moment. He is making it so much easier, her heart so much lighter... "Something might be coming, yes," she says. "I think I put that in his mind. His reading was... something," she says, leaving it vague. It isn't for her to tell Aladdin. 

".... already?" Theresa asks, her heart sinking. Her eyes shift down and away. A terrible feeling starts to blossom in her chest: selfishness, possession, and greediness. She shouldn't have to give up her friend, she shouldn't have to do this! He likely can sense this in her, the unjustness to her personally when it simply is a part of who he is. "That is disappointing," she says, the pause buying herself time, giving just a scant few moments more. It isn't fair, it isn't right! 

Theresa doesn't have to wish for anything. A child's answer to an adult's problem, the equivalent of throwing a fit instead of truly fixing the problem. He is giving her warning- he didn't have to. Unless he is lying, and just wants to get away from her... abandon her... just like everyone else. Her breaths are coming out faster. 

"I thought I would be better, Aladdin," Theresa murmurs. "I thought I was a good person who could give you freedom, give you kindness, give you comfort," she says, gulping hard. "Now that the moment is here, I don't want to. I want you all for myself," she says, tone heartbroken for him, for herself, and her mundaneness. How human of her, to think she could possess something she was never meant to. 

Aladdin has said his own poems... she has one of her own, now. 

"Do you know when you've lost something—like your favorite T-shirt or a set of keys—and while looking for it, you come across something else you once missed but have long since forgotten? Well whatever it was, there was a point where you decided to stop searching, maybe because it was no longer required or a new replacement was found. It is almost as if it never existed in the first place—until that moment of rediscovery, a flash of recognition.

"Everyone has one—an inventory of lost things waiting to be found. Yearning to be acknowledged for the worth they once held in your life.

"I think this is where I belong—among all your other lost things. A crumpled note at the bottom of a drawer or an old photograph pressed between the pages of a book.

"I hope someday you will find me and remember what I once meant to you."

Theresa gets quiet after that. She takes a breath, steadying herself. "Forgive me for my selfishness," she says, bowing her head. "I really thought I was above it... but you are the closest friend I have ever had. I don't... want to lose that. I also recognize that in keeping you here, forcing you, it isn't... friendship. At all. It is possession. You aren't a possession. You are a person, Aladdin," Theresa affirms. She wants him to know what she is thinking, because she thinks it is more meaningful than being duplicitous.

"He really loved you, Aladdin," she says, a tear escaping. So seldom does she cry, it almost takes her by surprise. She can hear his pleas, his curses, his desperation all those years ago. "But not enough to be with you forever," she continues, bowing her head. "As much as I can... I understand. Just because something has an ending, doesn't make it any less meaningful. It doesn't make it less worthy. Death is sometimes well deserved, but not because of maliciousness, but because a life was well lived. You made his life well lived. It is a period at the end of the most satisfying of sentences," Theresa says, and another tear slips out. 

"I have my final wish, Aladdin... but I have two. I don't know which to choose. Can you help me?"

The mountains around them are vast, yet in this moment, it feels as though the space between them has contracted into something more intimate. The silence speaks volumes; it holds the weight of their unspoken thoughts, the heaviness of her longing, and the quiet understanding that lingers between them like a thread tethering them to this brief, fragile moment.

Theresa breathes in deeply, her hand absently brushing at the loose dirt beneath her fingers. The simple motion grounds her, but the swell of emotions inside her threatens to overwhelm. She feels it all—the conflict within herself, the rush of pride, jealousy, fear, and desire, all tangled up in the uncharted territory of this relationship. She had never allowed herself to want someone else so thoroughly before. Never thought she could.

Her heart squeezes painfully when Aladdin speaks of leaving. She wants to deny it, to pull him back from the edge of his departure, but she knows better. She knows that this world and all its passing moments are temporary. Everything she has with him, no matter how fleeting, is something she cannot grasp, cannot hold forever. Not even a friend, no matter how much she wants it.

Aladdin’s words are like a balm to her fraying nerves. The comfort, the gentle reminder that even though their paths are not destined to be entwined forever, their friendship can still exist in these small moments. His lightheartedness, his humor—it’s the thread she clings to, the only part of herself that feels steady now. And yet, she cannot shake the feeling that she is being left behind, that this time, unlike the others, she cannot stop it.

When she speaks, her voice is small, but the vulnerability is clear. "I never knew what it meant to have someone like you in my life, Aladdin. Someone who isn't trying to take something from me, but just... exists with me, beside me. It's hard to consider letting that go. I hope you remain my friend when our agreement ends- but I don't know if we will or wont. It is the uncertainty that scares me."

She pauses, meeting his eyes with a sense of finality in her tone. "My possible wishes... one is selfish, the other is not. One might be for you to see Aladdin again," she offers. It isn't a permanent fix... but something to look forward to, whatever that means. It comes with the possibility of loss, however. "Or... I made another..." she says, reaching into her bag. Theresa pulls out a novel of a wish, carefully worded. She had worked on this, clearly. It gets held out to him to read, and she waits for his judgement. 

The wish is simple- as long as she lives, he will visit her once an earthly year to visit. There are so many loopholes, all of them for Aladdin to take advantage of. As long as he is with her, the visit lasts and cannot be interrupted. He could use it not to be with her, but rather have a break from his servitude. He could even be there for a micro second, should he wish to avoid her. On and on it goes, a means for him to have more freedom... but with her.

"In retrospect... I was always afraid of losing you," Theresa says. "I made it seem like something I was giving you... but it was really for me. I see that now. I think... you should have the choice. Really have it. I could ask for something else entirely. There is something in your future that will... help you more than I can. I know this... and I know that if I keep you here, with me, you will be kept from that beautiful future."

Theresa doesn't flinch at Aladdin's outburst, but her heart does lurch. She should have known better. How many times has she asked him what he wants, and he just... skates past it? She is offering him everything he offers her, and even he cannot answer honestly, truly. Does he fear her not granting him this boon? Can he not say? She would wish for his freedom... but something in her tells her that is not for her to do. "Understood," she says, and that is all that needs to be said here. She fears she has overstepped once again. 

There is no balm she can grant, no wound she can soothe here. So, instead, she will soothe her own. 

"Yes. This is what I wish for, Aladdin," Theresa says, quiet. It still feels like an ending in her heart.