The first light of dawn in my eyes wakes me up, burning away the mental fog of hunger and exhaustion that has obscured the last – how long? How long has it been since we left that grateful village? Trying to remember is like sifting through fragments of dreams, piecing facts together around nebulous impressions. I know I'd insisted that we continue our journey to the West once I was strong enough to walk again. After all, I learned long ago how to sleep behind the wheel, and our directions mainly consist of things like 'follow the road for twenty miles, take the left fork, drive for another sixty miles'. Hakuryuu can do that by herself; there was no reason to delay ourselves just because I needed more rest. That took care of the exhaustion while on the road, but I still needed a frightening amount of food. No one complained when we stopped in a town every night for dinner, warm beds, and breakfast, and then stopped in another town for lunch. I'm usually quiet during meals anyway; I'm sure no one was concerned that I sat very still and didn't say anything once I'd finished eating. Granted, I was eating a lot more than normal, but no one said anything about it. Maybe they didn't notice how much I was devouring, or that I was dozing off afterwards.

There is a large pitcher of water, a small tub with a sponge, and a coarse towel on a table by the bed. I mindfully fill the tub and begin washing, acknowledging the feel of the rough sponge and the cold water on my skin – skin that feels smooth and strong again rather than thin and old. About a month. I think it's been about a month since I drained myself to the point of injury. The days since then are mostly a haze of exhaustion and hunger, with moments of consciousness standing out sharply. A grimace worms its way across my face. Somehow, having low chi levels seems to disconnect me from my short-term memory, and sometimes anything further in the past than 'right now' ceases to exist for me – especially when my reserves are drained down to nothing. I truly live in the moment then, becoming a creature of survival. It's not until my reserves are full again that my memory of that time is put in its proper place between the events that came before and the ones that follow. I seem to have reached that point now; that 'pit' in my life-force has been completely filled and my chi has finally stabilized, allowing me to think rationally again. I wade through the hazy memories of the last month, trying to settle them. It feels as though it were it was all a dream, or that someone else that had inhabited my starving body. I know I'd been sleeping so heavily that not even the nightmares or Kanan's specter disturbed me. Only when Hakuryuu stopped did I wake up, or if someone mentioned leaving the table, or when Sanzo knocked on my door in the mornings.

When Sanzo knocked on my door? My mouth twists into a frown, and I pat myself dry with the coarse towel while examining that thought. Yes, there was a stream of nights spent in single rooms such as this one, and each night ended with an imperative knock on my door just before breakfast – a knock that did not go away until I dragged myself from the tangle of sheets and blankets and forced my reluctant body to unlock the door. I remember stiff fingers fumbling with the lock, sandy eyes blinking and blinking again, struggling to focus on the scowling face of Genjo Sanzo. If he or I ever said anything, I don't remember it. Now that the memory of that intent violet gaze hangs before me, however, I can remember being watched surreptitiously during meals and while driving. Sanzo has been watching me almost constantly since the morning I'd finished healing him, but why?

I promise.

The towel falls from my nerveless fingers, and I hastily pick it up. Sanzo promised. More than that – I made him promise. Nervously, I smooth my hair down and make futile attempts to brush it away from my left ear before reaching for the strip of green cloth I use to hold it out of the way. The warm, vibrant colors I'd seen so briefly in his chi...the only other person he'd cared for in that way, trusted that deeply... I dress myself slowly, deliberately, letting the routine motions be a channel for my chaotic thoughts and feelings to flow through and sort themselves out. No wonder he watched me so carefully. Then, on the heels of that thought: I'm not worthy.

Worthy or not, what's done is done. I will hold Sanzo's promise as sacred as I hold my own, and redouble my efforts to live in such a way that he does not fear being released him from his oath by the event of my death. Still feeling shaky from the last month, I make my way to the door and pause. Behind the wooden panel, a buzzing cloud of electric-blue sparks grows nearer until Sanzo reaches my door and stops. His chi underneath the sparks was a hard turquoise streaked with searing orange, but as he detects my presence on the other side of the wood it softens to a lighter shade: baby blue, tinged with peach and rose. There is a pause, then he knocks quietly.

"I'm awake." My words are soft but firm, and leaf-green blooms briefly among the other colors, transforming his chi into something like flowers under the morning sky. "Thank you," I add, and anyone listening would think it was just the wake-up call I was thanking Sanzo for.

The other colors are pushed to the side as warm, velvety lavender wells up and is gone, and then Sanzo is walking quickly back down the hall, and out of my chi-sensing range. I know that when I see him at breakfast, his chi will back to its usual lapis, and he will act as though nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. I shouldn't have imposed on Sanzo like that, but I don't regret it. If he needs me to live, and I need him to live in order to live, does that make my actions Right Action? Or would it be sophistry? Somehow, remembering the warm shades of his chi, I think it is the former. I open the door, smile firmly in place, and go to meet the others for breakfast. Unworthy as I am, I still have responsibilities to the dead faces that stare back at me from the silent darkness, and I'll do whatever they demand of me.

Just hold on tight, because if you close your eyes, look inside yourself, you'll feel a heartbeat. Yes, I want you to believe in the future. You can take another look from the other side…

The memory of Kanan's voice is bittersweet, but my bland smile doesn't waver. Sanzo promised, and I hold tight to that memory. Right now, that's the only 'future' I have – the only future I can believe in.

The usual sounds of breakfast come from the inn's dining room as I turn the corner. Gojyo and Goku are in a heated argument over some bit of food; Sanzo is trying very hard to will them away as he drinks his coffee. He'll yell at them in a minute. I let their chi wash over me – deep blue shot through with the Maten's sparks; smooth, rich magenta; gold so bright and warm that nothing could ever put out that light.

Until you find all that is love...

This is all the future I have, but right now, this is the only future I need.