It was only now she realized that the emptiness she had seen when she looked toward the future, that terrifying, hopeless nothingness, was actually a blank canvas. It was here, that future, unfolded before her.

She had resolved to stop looking back, but didn't know how to look forward quite yet.

xx

So she went to see Crow.

In the Arc Cradle, he had resisted the promise of fixing what had been broken, insisted vehemently on facing what was to come, no matter how uncertain it was. At the time, she couldn't understand how he could deny such a warm world, but now she thought that maybe he was wiser than her after all.

"Well," he said thoughtfully; he had invited in, gracious but a little surprised, and sat her at the table. "I guess it's really just a matter of thinking the past created you, y'know? Of course I'm not happy my parents died, or that their parents died-" here he nodded slightly toward the children, two boys and a girl, drawing happily on the kitchen floor-" but none of us would be who we are if it hadn't happened. I might not have met Yuusei, or Jack, or Aki or Rua or Ruka or..." he gave her a roguish grin. "Or a beautiful woman like yourself."

"That's quite the smooth line."

"I try," he said. A pause; they both turned to admire the certain slant of light coming in through the window, making the rundown place look, for the moment, beautiful. After a moment he continued. "So you just keep going, and you hope that maybe the future will be better this way."

She looked over to the children, who had were conspiring quietly in their little circle. "You're it!" one of the boys said suddenly, tapping the girl on the shoulder and clammering over the couch, the small table, in an inelegant yet effective escape.

"Hey!" cried Crow in dismay, "not in the house!" They had already left the room, though; she could hear the thunder of little feet on the stairs. It was amazing, she thought, how resilient they were, running and laughing and, for the moment, truly happy. They had lost as much as she had, but there was no resentment, no hopeless resignation. They had taken their bitter lot and kept walking; it made her feel like even more of a silly fool for it all.

"So that's your secret," she said. He gave her a curious glance. "When you lost your family, you made a new one." She smiled wistfully. "I have to say, I'm a bit jealous. They're cute kids."

"Well," he said slowly, dragging out the word, grossly exaggerated. He grinned at her, and it was genuine. "If it's a family you need, you're welcome to share ours for a while."

xx

Sherry had come to discover that the world had a natural tendency to regenerate. Precious people couldn't be replaced, no, never - but that didn't mean there was any shortage of family. Of love. She had felt hopeless back then, sure that nothing in the future would ever be as good as those rosy halcyon days of childhood, but what she hadn't known was that she could make her own warm future. It was surprisingly, really, how warm a future a woman like herself could find.

She liked the feeling of his arms locked around her waist, his face in her hair and chin on her shoulder, wrapping her up like something infinitely precious. He was more than she deserved, really, but until he realized that she would savor him for everything he was worth.

She pulled herself forward slightly to read the numbers on the clock in the dim morning light. No, she had time.

He stirred, sensing her movement. "Are you leaving?" he murmured, still half asleep.

"Later."

She let herself sink back into his embrace, and he pulled her closer instinctively, making a soft sound that could have been a happy sigh. Maybe one day she would be the one to initiate embraces, a true lover who gave secrets and hopes and fears in addition to kisses and moans, but not yet.

Ah, well. Baby steps.