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Jay found her on the porch of the little bungalow, sitting on the swing. Ilse had insisted on having one installed just days after moving in. She'd seen them in the movies, projected through her window.

For decades before Jay had been born, everything in its partner's life had been projected through glass. They had lived second-hand through more than one lifetime. The demiwoman out of the incinerator was due a few indulgences.

Besides, ridiculous artifact of days gone past though it was, Jay had to admit that the swing was kind of great. Most of the personal touches in Ilse's house had a similar vibe. It gave the whole sleepover a subtle time-lost quality, like a dream from another life.

Ilse looked up as Jay sat down beside them, but didn't speak. In the darkness — it was night, and the house was on a corner lot tucked out of view — those big blue eyes were pools of starlight. Jay put their arm around Ilse's shoulders, and asked one of those stupid questions that did so much load bearing in human relations.

"Can't sleep?"

Ilse shrugged. "I probably could, if I put my mind to it."

Jay reached up to ruffle its partner's orange mop. "Well, that's true of anything."

Ilse smiled. "You are the wind beneath my wings."

"And what's he?" Jay jerked a thumb at the bungalow, where Researcher James, age six, was fast asleep. He snored a little, but at least his growth had been arrested past the point where he slept through the night.

"The bags beneath my eyes?" Ilse suggested innocently.

Jay suppressed a laugh. "That's not nice!"

Ilse's eyes narrowed impishly. "I'm practicing not being nice. One condition of my release is blending in with the modern world."

Month by month, the restrictions placed on Ilse to prevent their anomalous existence from disturbing the mundane status quo were being lifted. She was well on her way to living as normal life as you could live without ever actually getting any older.

"I'll bet it's a disappointment," Jay mused, "coming out of the incinerator to this era specifically."

"No." Ilse shook their head. "It's been anything but a disappointment. And I've seen worse."

Jay cocked their head to one side. "Worse than everyone trying their best to end the world?"

"Yes." Ilse slipped out from under Jay's arm, and walked to the rail. They were still in their night clothes, old fashioned and frilly. Jay, by contrast, wore a robe. "I've seen what comes after. Worlds that really did end."

"The deadlines."

Ilse nodded. "Half of humanity dead in one." She left a beat, to acknowledge the customary omission of Timeline 5243-B. "Ninety nine point repeating nine percent dead in another. Millions dead, everyone dead, and…"

"You never talk about the other two."

Ilse glanced back at them.

"Well, I never saw one. And I'm not actually allowed to so much as mention the other."

"You've told me plenty of things that aren't allowed," Jay reminded them gently. "I've done the same for you."

"This is different." Ilse sighed. "I agree with the reason these things are kept secret. I wish I didn't know about them."

"Are they worse? Worse than the other five?"

Ilse looked up, past the eaves of the house. At the stars. "It's… subjective."

"Subjective how?"

The little redhead's voice took on a quality of distance, though she didn't move a muscle. "There was a world where everyone lived in abject misery. No hope. No peace. Just endless death in red, drifting farther and farther from the possibility of repair. No rest, no comfort, nothing."

"How is that not obviously the worst of the lot?"

"It was, for everyone else."

Ilse tapped the rail.

Jay slipped off the swing, and walked to stand next to her. "You were stuck in the incinerator."

Ilse was still searching the stippled heavens. "Yes, but that wasn't it."

"Then what?"

"You know I was an Overseer in -A."

"You might have mentioned it, several times." Mostly when she wanted to choose what they had for dinner.

"I made a genuine difference there." Ilse wrung the rail with their thin fingers. "I helped rebuild the world."

"You might get your chance to do that here, soon."

Ilse acknowledged the gallows humour with a nod, but would not be distracted from whatever point she was trying to make. "In -C I held them all together. Told them stories about what was still out there, beyond the black. Reminded them what was worth waiting for, no matter how long it took."

Jay ruffled her hair again. It was so hard not to. "You've always been selfless."

Ilse grimaced. "I spent seven decades focusing on nothing but myself. But that's not the point. -D wasn't much different from the world we live in now. Little hiccoughs in the usual course, nothing humanity couldn't survive. Maybe even forget."

"And -E?"

A dark cloud Jay was already well acquainted with crossed those ageless features. "I'm still not ready to talk about that. The point is, they weren't all bad. Some of them were little hells, or big. But for me… at the time, I could have told you with confidence which was worse. Not anymore."

"Why? What changed?"

Ilse was still looking up, only now it was at them. "Jay, there was a time when I was never really alone. Seven realities at once, all blurring across my field of view. Seven humanities to keep me company. But one by one they all dropped away, until I was left with just one me, and just one everybody else."

"That's all most people ever have."

"And it's more than I need. Because Jay?" Ilse leaned in close, and their bodies began coordinating defence against the evening chill. "I could lose a thousand eternities without caring at all. There's only one line I want to walk, now. The others are all equally barren to me. They fall short on the only thing that matters, the thing that makes this world the best of all of them, for me."

Jay stared at her. It didn't know what to say. Ilse leaned in further, rested her head on their chest. They held each other at the rail for a few moments, then a few moments longer.

"This is the only world where I have you," Ilse finally finished.

"Yeah," Jay sniffled. "Obviously I got that already, dummy."

Ilse would not be deflected. Jay found it one of their most endearing qualities. "All those worlds slipped away. All the people I could have been without you are gone. I don't miss them anymore. This world will never end, Jay. Not for me. You're what to get for the demiwoman who was everything."

"You're so humble," Jay tried to laugh. The emotion in their voice crowded it out. "I'm… I'm thankful every day that I met you."

"Me too." Ilse squeezed Jay's side, its empty left sleeve hanging loose over her wrist. "I get to wake up every morning and talk to you. It's an upgrade across the board. I wouldn't trade you for an eternity, Jay. No matter how dark the days get, we'll always have each other."

"That, plus coffee," Jay yawned, and the spell was broken. "Think you can sleep now?"

"And miss more of the Earth's final moments?" She didn't say: and ours? but Jay heard it anyway.

"You said it yourself. You've seen those final moments enough times."

"You're right." Ilse nodded against Jay's chest. "This time belongs to us."

Jay rested its chin against her scalp, and smiled as their hearts beat in sync. "Ilse Reynders, I do believe that some day, all of time will."