The smell of smoke and booze filled the air; a smell that brought back a slew of memories and melancholy. How long had it been since I drank Strawberry Hill and smoked under a bridge with those friends of mine? Had you asked me, during the peak of our friendship, I gladly would have put my ass on the line for any one of them. Especially the blond girl in front of me. Jesus, she didn't look anything like I remembered, but then, time would do that to you. Warp your memories. The person you remembered was always much different than they actually were.

We stared at each other for a long time, neither breaking the silence, neither for the same reason. At my age, I treasured silence. It was a luxury rarely afforded a man with kids; and even that was a strange thought. My youngest was nearly a decade older than this girl I'd foolishly chased after in my high school years.

The shapeless void churned around us, the darkness strangely comforting, where it would have been terrifying in any other setting. Time passed, or perhaps it didn't. Who could know with no way to mark the passage?

A few moments later, or perhaps a few eternities in which stars were reduced to useless hunks of iron, she finally spoke, her voice raspy and dry. She'd obviously never kicked that habit, even in death. Though, maybe that was simply how I expected her to sound.

"Took your sweet ass time getting here, didn't ya?" She asked, her eyebrow curling up in youthful amusement.

I smiled, the lines on my face growing clearer. "Well, I had to find my 'Great Perhaps' at some point, didn't I?"

She barked out a laugh, and I was pleased to find that it was just how I remembered it. Even after years, that laugh was unforgettable. "Oh yeah? I was wondering about that. Well don't keep me waiting, Pudge, spill the beans." She crossed her arms and waited, her eyes sparkling with contained mirth.

I shrugged. "It'll sound corny, but I had it right next to me the whole time."

She laughed again. "Jesus, Pudge, I wait this long and that's what you give me? Talk about a let down."

I grinned, knowing that was coming. "I don't know what to tell you. It hit me one day when I woke up on a Saturday. The kids were at their grandparents house, I was warm and cozy in bed and in walks my wife holding a plate of pancakes and bacon wearing nothing but an apron. I decided then and there that as long as I could exist in that moment, my search was over. After that moment was over, I'd find the next one to live in. The Great Perhaps wasn't one big thing I needed to find. It was a series of them that lead me right to here. Now I exist in this moment. That is my Great Perhaps."

Her smile shifted to a kinder one. "That's real sweet. Still corny as hell, but sweet."

We fell into another silence, this one a more companionable one. We both knew the question on my tongue; it was simply the matter of asking it. It was such a shame I had to ruin a perfectly good moment.

"Why, Alaska?" I finally whispered the words I'd been pondering for so many years.

She thought about it for a long time, and I let her. I'd waited this long.

"You know, I've had all this time to think of an answer that didn't sound selfish, but for the death of me, I just can't." She whispered.

I took a step closer and put my wrinkled hands on her shoulders, the contrast between us far too great not to notice. I looked her in the eyes and used the voice I'd mastered for comforting my children. "Then tell me the truth. I can guarantee that it's not any worse than the number of theories I've thought of. Trust me on that."

She looked up, youthful fear of the unknown clear in them. There was a time, long ago, I'd have looked in those eyes and seen nothing. Now, I was able to see the pain, transparent as still ponds.

Her words barely carried passed her lips, but I picked them up all the same. "I saw my escape from the labyrinth."

I nodded, expecting that as a possible answer. I pulled her close into my chest, putting my hand on her head. She sobbed, the suit I'd been wearing when I had my heart attack soaking up the tears. "Shh... I know..." I muttered, smoothing out her blond curls. "I know."

She cried long and hard, a side of her I'd not seen in life, but here in death, there were no other witnesses.

"You know, it took me a long time to get over you. And even longer to admit that I hadn't." I whispered to her, simply holding her and offering comfort for a few passing eternities. "But, of course, I didn't just say that, because I love my wife." I joked.

Her sobs became interspersed with laughter. "Wow." She stepped back and wiped the tears away as she tried to recompose herself. "You're just full of corny ones, aren't you?"

I shrugged. "Been holding onto them for years; seems a waste to not use them."

She giggled. "So, are you going to move on now?"

I shook my head. "I'm a patient man. I think I'll wait for the others. I have some words to exchange with Takumi and the Colonel. Plus, my wife would kill me over again if I left a young girl by herself in this all encompassing darkness." I gestured around at the landscape, the strangely comforting darkness still shifting.

A grateful smile graced her features, one that actually reached her eyes. "Thanks... Miles." She patted the ground(?) next to her and I happily took her invitation. I wanted to see them again as soon as possible, but a small part of me hoped it took them a long time to get here. I could be patient and they deserved their own chance to find their Great Perhaps before they escaped their labyrinth.