I watched it begin again

“Holy shit, she’s done it,” trips excitedly off his lips when the message comes, awe and wonder encased in a trill-tremble of adrenaline. Yet not a stroke of doubt amidst the swell of emotion beneath each syllable. As if Flora would ever fail to reach a height she'd set her sights on, no matter the claims of impossibility.  On his behalf, there's not much fanfare. As Mort said, the bags he has to pack are more abstract than material. He kisses his nonna's cheeks and holds her in his arms one more time, smile so big it would hurt if they could only feel such things in this place. But pain is as forgotten as time in this world that has been his only life - or afterlife - for longer than he'd ever been truly alive.  "I'll see you soon, nonna. But on the other side, promise!" The cheshire cut of his gleaming grin is as good a send off as Enzo could ask for. It follows him to the other side to herald his return in equal measure, competing with the heavenly glow of the golden doorway that delivers him.  Flora's expression softens him like a trained dog hearing the command to heel, and though Mort's presence is as captivating as ever Enzo sweeps past him with single-minded focus, hands reaching for his twin to manage nearness just a moment sooner. "Flora," comes out of him; impossible to call it a croon, a sigh, a prayer. There is no singular word that could capture the weight of everything that rests in the syllables of her name; every emotion, every painful hour spent apart, every lost experience that was meant to be shared. And above all that pain - the euphoria of having the chance given back to the both of them. To have a cut thread be tied back into some form of wholeness, more pages placed in the back of a book after they had been ripped out too soon. He's alive. He's alive. Not just for a single day, no more tether around his heart and soul by which he would be dragged away from her again. Enzo laughs even as tears spill over, relishing in the way his grin does hurt this time, and he pulls his sister into his chest until the world is gold and cream with the nearness of her hair and skin. The only part of the world he'd ever truly missed. "Honey, I'm home," he sing-songs through wet laughter. Enzo doesn't turn to thank Mort - Flora deserves that gratitude far more - but he also knows Mort will hear it from his soul loud and clear. enzo enzo