A Time for Forgiveness

Fox McCloud was no stranger to loneliness.

The most crushing episode of it came shortly after his father died. He never forgot the absolute feeling of hopelessness and sense of being alone that he felt when Peppy told him the news that change his life. He had felt numb, and hadn't spoken to anyone for days. And the loneliness set in during those days, the full sense that his mother and father were gone, and that he was all alone in the world. No family left. If it weren't Peppy coming through and taking him in, he might have lost himself during those days.

Now this was a different kind of loneliness. This, this feeling hitting him as he sat at the bridge of the Great Fox II, with naught but ROB 64 to keep company, was more pronounced.

He was the only one left.

It happened slowly, months after the Aperoid invasion. First Peppy, becoming Corneria's general after Pepper died a peaceful death. Then Slippy, to build something with his fiance, Amanda. Those two had been graceful departures. But it still hurt when he saw them hang up their flight jackets and step off the team, but they parted on good terms. An "I'll see you," a "Take care of yourself, Fox." He had nodded. If he had known how hard this was all going to be without anyone, then he might have begged them not to go. Or maybe not. That would have been selfish.

Then Krystal...Krystal. He didn't want to think of that. No. That darkness needed to be contained.

Falco. Always the free spirit, he struck out on his own once he saw that there being only the two of them on the team just wasn't going to work. Star Fox needed more than two people. Falco saw that. And Fox gathered that Falco couldn't stand to see the sight of him being miserable. Falco wanted out. And Fox couldn't blame him.

So Falco left, saying he would keep in touch. He did call from time to time, but mostly to see if Fox was doing well. As for what he was doing, Falco had taken to doing freelance work of his own.

And now here he was, costing through the outer reaches of the Lylat system. Nothing but void in all directions. Loneliness in any direction. ROB 64 may have been there still, but that wasn't enough to console him. He needed live bodies on board

"ROB?" Fox said suddenly, eager to get out of his head.

"Yes?"

"...plot a course for Macbeth. I need a drink. Badly." Macbeth may be scrap heap, but the place was home to the watering holes with the hardest liquor in all of Lylat. Nothing but the best. Fox didn't consider himself an alcoholic, but he couldn't deny that the bottle provided a nice haven from all the troublesome introspection he had been enduring lately. And bars, at least, meant company. Unfamiliar company. But still something. Even if it offered very little comfort.

Besides, there was nothing to do otherwise. Work had been coming in at an incredibly slow pace. Once it was common knowledge that the revered Star Fox team had been reduced to a grand crew of two, with only one pilot, people lost confidence.

"...Affirmative." ROB responded, after a pause.

Was ROB worried about him? Is that why he paused before speaking?

He wasn't an alcoholic. He wasn't. But god did he need a drink.

Mortimer's Porthole was one of the many bars you could find in the rougher part of Macbeth. After the Lylat Wars, the planet was mined in earnest once Andross' forces were no longer a problem. So mining towns, small but peopled, dotted the planet. Some were friendlier than others, and Fox always opted to visit the places where criminals didn't flock. A bar fight, though it might relieve stress, was only fun until someone broke a glass on the back of your neck. Then it get's scary. And Fox wasn't in the mood for that.

He strolled into the building, his boots clicking on the metal floors of the watering hole. He strode right up to the bar, and the visage of a rough looking brown-haired ram turned to greet him.

"Fox. Why am I not surprised? You're becoming a regular customer, you know?" The ram said stoicly. Mortimer, the ram in question, was a hard fellow, but a fair one. He wanted no trouble, and strove to preserve a humble if not slightly seedy-at-times establishment. Fox enjoyed his company. He was a good listener. And that was just what someone at the bar needed sometimes. But right now, what he needed was a hard drink more than a good talk, considering the day it was.

"Hey, Mort. And it's because your place is quiet most nights." Fox replied.

"I do take pride in that. And thank god." Mortimer was currently cleaning a glass with a white rag. He was a strong looking fellow, well-muscled. Intimidating enough that anyone who caused trouble in his place was sure to be punished. Fox wasn't afraid of him, naturally because he had seen worse. But he respected him, because Mortimer was a good man. And Fox wasn't one to cause trouble unless someone else started it first.

"Hey Mort...what's the hardest thing you got?" Fox said somberly.

Mort raised an eyebrow. "Well, I can certainly make something for you that will get to you. You think you're up for it?"

Yes. Yes he was. Today was that day, after all. And Fox was set on being at least somewhat inebriated for this day. Alcohol drove the nightmares away.

Usually.

"Yeah. Just make it for me Mort."

Mort looked at Fox for a moment more, and went to work. That was another thing. Mort didn't ask questions. Didn't pry into why this day was what it was. For previous years on this day, Fox has flown through space on his Arwing, or simply went to Corneria and took a long, very long walk about the city's many parks. None of that had been terribly effective, because grief isn't shaken so easily. But alcohol did something. And he kept telling himself he wouldn't go overboard. For pervious months he'd tried to keep to that. Keyword being tried.

Five minutes later, the drink arrived in front of him. It was deep red, the color of blood, and even from his position sitting on the barstool he could smell the sharp stench of the drink's alcohol. Oh yes. With this, he might forget.

Mort must have seen the faraway look in his eyes, because he spoke up.

"If it isn't my business, that's fine. But, usually when someone orders THIS drink, they want to forget something. Badly." The question was left unsaid. Fox was glad that he'd been polite. Should he tell him? No, this was a personal affair. And what good would it do really? Some said talking about your problems what a good step towards solving those problems, or at least getting them off your chest. But Fox didn't believe that. Not anymore, really.

But it would be rude to just not answer...

"It's...the anniversary of when I made the biggest mistake of my life." Fox said, quietly.

Mort blinked. "It involved a girl?" He asked.

Fox gave him a surprised look.

"Most times, for the people who can tell me, problems with relationships are why people order that drink. Men and woman alike, of all species." Explained Mort.

Ah. Well, he was a bartender, after all.

Fox looked at the glass, seeing his reflection. God, did he really look that haggard right now? His eyes looked tired, and dark circles were visible just below his eyes, even under his fur. The months had not been kind to him, at all. Sleepless nights and all. And of course, the self-loathing.

And it all looked so much worse on this day, the day he told Krystal to leave, the day he told her to leave because he was afraid to lose her, the day he told her to leave and screwed up because he figured out too late that Krystal flew out with the team knowing the danger, and most likely felt the same drive to protect him as well. They both knew they were important to each other. But he had recognized it too late. Far, far, too late. He'd never felt that close to someone in his life, not like that. And despite the fact they had been together for months before and after the Aperoid invasion, all that time seemed so ephemeral, now that he had gone and utterly ruined everything.

"Pretty smooth flyin', Fox." whispered the voice of Falco in his ear.

Hurriedly he took a slug of the drink, and he almost gagged as liquid fire poured down his throat. He shivered, both from pain and pleasure, as it settled down and burned warmly in his stomach. He licked his chops.

Yeah, this will do the trick, he thought. By tonight I'm gonna be utterly glassed. There's a mission for the Star Fox team. Cheap, no monetary reward, but all the good feelings of one.

Faintly he felt pathetic, but he pushed that aside. He needed this.

He finished the drink with two more slugs. Now the warmth in his stomach spread to his body, and now he felt a little tingle. Not quite buzzed.

"Hey Mort," he said, "mind if I have another one?"

"You think you're liver can take it?"

"That's a non-issue."

Mort raised an eyebrow, and shook his head.

Fox lost coherent vision at halfway through the third drink.

Krystal was no stranger to loneliness.

Being the lone survivor of the Cerinian people was always a weight at the back of her mind. Even with recent events, such a joining and…leaving the team, meeting new people and having new experiences, that weight never really vanished.

When you were the last of your people, you didn't expect that weight to vanish.

She sighed as she flew about in her personal craft from her Starfox days, earned shortly after the Aperoid invasion was repelled. The craft carried memories with it, mostly bittersweet. One particular memory burned painfully, burned hotter than usual.

Today was the anniversary of that day.

It hurt to think about him. Burying him down into the depths of her memory hadn't been entirely effective. Even flying in the Katinian army for a year wasn't enough to bury thoughts about the man who, though he had hurt her deeply, had made her happy for months before.

It was just impossible to forget those days, days of flying with the team, her best friends, and on man who had made her so happy. Even as she tried to destroy those memories, throwing herself into military work and trying her absolute best to focus only on said military work, she couldn't do it. She just couldn't.

And there was the loneliness, of course. She missed the team. Falco, Slippy, Peppy, ROB…and Fox. They had been a family. A loving family. And even when she flew with her Katinian squad mates, she knew it just wasn't the same. She was lonely. And as she knew, loneliness hurt.

Her rational for wanting to forget those days was that Fox had asked her leave the team. He was afraid of losing her, so afraid in fact that he wanted to eliminate any risk of losing her completely. As much as Krystal understood, she had urged him to reconsider, urged him that she knew the risks of flying with the team and willingly took them. But Fox, in all his fear, couldn't see that.

It would have been so much easier to forget those days completely if Fox had told her to leave because he was over her and didn't want her around any longer. She would have broken his jaw and happily left him forever if that had been the case. But the fact that he had told her to leave because he cared so much about her…that was difficult to think through.

She had maintained her anger for a few months after she was forced to leave, because how could he do that? How could he not see she was willing to be with him, despite the risks? She hated him for how dense he was, how he had denied his feelings and sent her away because he wasn't brave enough to be with her, despite the danger. But then the anger melted away. As much as she tried, she could not maintain it. With the way they had parted, how could she?

But she knew could not simply go back to him, not now. He was afraid. And if he could not see that she knew the risks, and gladly took them to be with him...

She sighed, and looked out the cockpit window.

"Macbeth..." she murmured.

She had never been to the planet, until recently. Fellow pilots in the Katinian army had a watering hole they liked to head too down on the surface, and now all alone she figured she could use a drink to clear her head. Her unit had been stationed there to protect a group of Katinian miners on an expedition, so the situation was convenient. Remove the painful fragments this day left behind.

She blinked.

Something was down on the planet. Something familiar, very familiar. And painfully muddled. Horribly, even. To the point she could not recognize what it could be. Her telepathic abilities flared, and she closed her eyes to clear her head.

"What was that?" she asked aloud. She had felt pain, great pain, and loneliness.

The stars did not answer.

This was going to bother her if she didn't head down there.

She wanted to grab a drink herself, anyway. Two birds and one stone. Following the feeling, she flew down to the planet's surface.

The feeling had led her to small mining town. Very quaint looking, as a matter of fact. Peaceful even. Macbeth wasn't a very pretty planet, so it was a testament to the will of people that it was possible to live down there. Especially after Fox had told her about the history of the planet. It had been used a central base of operations for Andross during the Lylat Wars; Fox and the team had destroyed the base and the major supply train at the same time through a stroke of Peppy's tactical genius. What better way to do it then to get the train to crash into the base at high speeds?

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why the Landmaster is better than the Arwing." Slippy had said smugly, after Fox had retold the story one evening many months ago.

Falco's negative response to that comment had been hilarious.

A sharp stake of pain drove into her heart as she recalled those days. A sharp stake she metaphorically pulled out with a shake of her head. She had to stop thinking about those days.

But those memories would come back sooner or later. They always did.

Following the feeling led her through the small town to a little bar called Mortimer's Porthole. It fit the definition of "hole in the wall" to a T. Light was coming from the bar's doorway, as was the feeling. She was about to contemplate what it could be when the spectacle started.

"And to hell with you too!" cam a slurred voice, "Ya won't give me another drink? Fuck you then, then no money. I jussst...need a little more."

At that moment a figure blundered out of the bar, backing away and staggering with gait of a person absolutely blasted. Krystal had never seen someone so inebriated in her life.

"Hey, Fox! You damn well know your body is just going to give out on you at this point? Even over a girl, is it worth drinking yourself to death over?" said a male voice from the bar.

Krystal stopped breathing.

"Fuck you! You don't know anythin', you bastard. Fuck you and your bar. I'm leavin'. You follow me and I WILL blast the shit out of you. Don't think I...won't" The drunk figure slurred out, pulling out a blaster pistol Krystal tried not to recognize.

The voice from inside did not respond.

The figure, still not having noticed her, started staggering towards the spaceport. He made it all of two steps before his legs betrayed him. He felt flat on his face into the dirt. And didn't get up.

It started to rain.

Krystal stared at the figure. The flight jacket, the scarf, the fur color, the blaster...she knew without a doubt she was looking at a very drunk Fox McCloud. She knew what the feeling meant now, and in her mind she cursed. She shouldn't have come here. In fact, she ought to leave now. She wasn't ready for this, not mentally prepared for it. To just up out of nowhere face the man she had tried to cut from her life.

But morbid fascination, or perhaps spite, rooted her to the spot.

Fox mumbled something into the dirt, then got back up to his knees, stood up, tried walking again, and failed. The second time he managed to get up on his knees, supporting himself with his arms, and actually tried to crawl. He was still mumbling, and it didn't take long for him to fall on his side with a grunt of pain.

Krystal had never seen something so pathetic in her life. It was unimaginable that the great Fox McCloud could ever be like this, crawling on all fours, all alone.

She waited for him to get up again, and when he didn't, a little bit of worry welled up within her.

Without a word, she walked closer, getting a better look of his face. And at the moment she saw him, her heart couldn't help but break.

Fox looked terrible.

Though the last time she saw him up close like this was perhaps a year ago Fox looked as if he had aged at least three years. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, probably caused by sleepless nights and stress. No longer she saw the strong, stolid commander of the greatest soldiers of fortune in the Lylat system, no longer did she see the confident vulpine who had stared death and peril in the face and hadn't even blinked. No, this vulpine before her was not her Fox McCloud. This person looked ragged and past his prime, haunted and old.

And when she looked into his emerald eyes there was no spark in them any longer. There was only a profound sort of tiredness.

Fox, above all, looked so utterly tired.

"..fuck..." Fox mumbled. He tried to get up again, but his movements had become so inarticulate that it was a useless effort.

"Come on...come on, get up...'sjust a little liquor, I can..." he mumbled again. The rain came down on him, turning the dirt on his skin and cloths into mud, which sunk into his fur and only enhanced how utterly sad he looked.

"...why'd I have to drive her away...?" he mumbled.

She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't know her feelings toward him right then completely, but what she did know was that it would be beyond cruel to leave him like this.

She hurried over to him and hauled him up by his flight jacket, and put his right arm over her shoulders to keep him up.

"Who'sthat?" Fox mumbled, and Krystal smelled the liquor on his breath. Goodness, he might have drunk himself into oblivion had he not be been stopped by the bartender or whoever it was that had gotten him so riled up.

Krystal debated telling him who she was. She had an inkling that telling him might make the situation worse, but at the same time...there was something within her that didn't want her to lie to him. Even though she had every right too.

'And he already looks bad enough.' Krystal though to herself.

"...It's me, Fox." She said quietly, looking at him.

For a moment it looked like Fox hadn't registered what she said, and he looked confused. He stared at her like she was a total stranger, and Krystal had the irrational thought that maybe Fox couldn't recognize her.

It was almost comical when the realization dawned on his face. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and any previous confusion vanished from his face instantly.

"...Krystal...?" he mumbled, suddenly looking sober.

She nodded.

Fox said nothing. He looked at her as if couldn't believe she was there.

"Are you real?" he asked.

That statement was so out of the blue she almost laughed out loud.

"Yes, Fox, it's me."

Krystal saw hope dawn on his face like a sun rise for instant before it vanished the next. He looked away.

"Why are you here?"

"I sensed you on the planet. I felt something familiar, and here I am. And what are you doing here, utterly drunk and looking like hell?"

"Trying to forget you." He said hollowly.

So, it looked like they both failed in that department, Krystal thought.

"Lemme go. I can get back 'n the Arwing m'self." He groaned.

"You can barely walk," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Flying an Arwing is beyond you now, I would say."

Fox didn't say anything.

She heard heavy steps behind her. Krystal looked back and saw the approaching form of a ram, his steps sounding wet in the mud.

"So, I'm going to guess he's useless now, right?" asked the Ram.

"Who are you?" she asked in turn.

"Mortimer. I run the bar where Fox tried to kill himself with alcohol. And looking at things, I'd say he isn't going to be piloting a ship anytime soon.

"Thank you for telling him to stop." Again she surprised herself. Even after a year she still cared whether or not he died.

"Trust me, I've seen worse. Even had to shoot a man once. He needs a place to stay, for sure."

"Do you know anyplace around here? That he could stay in until morning?"

"Hmmm…no. There really aren't any motels around here, what with this being a small town. But...because I know Fox is a good guy at least, I'll let him stay at the bar for the night. I can keep an eye on him, and I have backroom he can stay in."

Krystal nodded. But, when she looked again at Fox, who by now was looking utterly miserable, she added on to Mortimer's plan.

"I'll keep an eye on him."

The back room in the bar had a couple of extra tables and large sofa, a room Mortimer said would be used whenever the bar was closed and he had company over. The sofa made a good place to lay Fox down, and Krystal decided she would watch from one of the tables. He was still awake, had been when they walked in and when she had helped him out of his flight jacked, which was soaked. She took off her Katinian flight jacket, which she wore over her pink body suit, and sat down.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Her presence must have cooled him off.

"So you're here alone?" she asked.

He nodded. "Falco left a while ago."

"Why?"

"...he said it wasn't the same."

That was just like Falco. He was always the free spirit. Like the aloof older brother of the team.

"...why did you help me?" he mumbled. And that was just like Fox. Straight to the point.

"You looked pathetic."

"I thought...you hated me."

At one point she might have. Now, after months apart, she knew she didn't. How could she?

"I couldn't just let you lie there. You think you could have flown your Arwing like that? Don't you think you might have caught a chill of sorts from staying out in the rain like that?"

"Why do you care? I made you run off like that..." Fox mumbled, voice dripping with self loathing. "You have every right to let me die like that."

"Why would you say that? Nobody deserves to die in such a wretched way."

"Your lyin'..." he slurred, "You hate me. I know you do. You deserve to kill me."

The certainty of his tone scared her. He sounded as if he actually wanted her to kill him.

"...you hurt me, Fox. You pushed me away, wanting to protect me, even though you knew I wanted to be with and that I knew the risks of being on the team. But do you really think-"

"You hate me, I know you do! Just go ahead and kill me, or leave. You don't have to-"

"Fox, be quiet!" The self-loathing in that voice was sickening to her. This was not the Fox she remembered. Even after what had happened between them to make them go their separate ways, this was not what she wanted to see from the man who had loved her, and whom she had loved.

No, he did still love her. It was evident.

"...just leave. I don't want you to be around someone who hurt you."

And with that, Fox turned away from her.

His insistence, his utterly wretched insistence, that she hated him and wanted to kill him was actually hurting her.

"…You really believe that I would kill you, don't you?" she asked, horrified.

"You have every right to. I still love you, but I know you could never love me back now."

Krystal stared at him, in all his hopelessness, and looked away.

"We couldn't forget each other, couldn't we?" she murmured.

Fox did not respond. He had fallen asleep.

The morning rays of the sun awoke Krystal, and she steadily awoke from her position at a table. She had fallen asleep with her head in her arms, and had no idea when she had fallen asleep. She chalked that up as to why she still felt a little tired still, but not enough to go back to sleep.

She looked over to Fox and found him still sleeping, turned away from her.

All that had happened yesterday was one of the most ridiculous cosmic coincidences she had ever been a part of. To run into him again like this. It felt absurd. And to do it now, after a whole year. When she had ran away she had figured he would search for her at some point, not because she secretly wanted him too, but because she knew he would. But he hadn't. And she had wondered why. And know she knew.

The self-loathing over letting her go, over driving her away and thinking that was the right choice and discovering that it wasn't, had ripped him apart. He had convinced himself, deeply, that she hated him totally. And it was clear as day that all that insistence had not been enough to kill the love he had for her.

She got up from her chair and walked over to him, and gently peered into his mind with her telepathy. She wasn't surprised to see him dreaming of her, dreaming of those days when they were together. But she was surprised to find that these dreams weren't extremely intimate. Fox wasn't dreaming of times when they were in bed and passionate, but of times when they were simply enjoying each other's company. Sometimes that was all that they had needed.

Fox didn't necessarily want her back to get back to that relationship they had, though he surely wanted that much. He simply wanted her back, because he missed her, and wanted to be with her.

He was lonely.

And she knew what loneliness felt like.

And wasn't she lonely too?

"Kry-Krystal…"

She gasped, and saw that Fox had woken up, and he looked like hell. That hangover was probably killing him bit by bit. Though now, without the alcohol in his system, he looked much more coherent and like she remembered him. But that old and tired look still persisted. What was more, he was looking at her like he couldn't believe she was there.

"W-what…what are you doing here?" he asked, lost.

"You don't remember last night? No surprising, considering how much you drank.," she said matter of factly.

"I only remember drinking a lot at Mortimer's, and then I…it's blank from there. But what are doing here? I thought you…you wouldn't-"

Krystal calmly interrupted him, and told him all that had happened. Fox's look grew increasingly more horrified the more the talked, to the point that he hung his head in shame.

"You had to see me like that…Oh goodness, what did I say to you? What did I do to you? No, you don't have to tell me. I know I probably yell-"

"You told me how much you knew I hated you, and that you wanted me to kill you. As if you thought I actually could."

Fox did not look at her. He only hung his head.

"Fox…you really believe all those things, don't you?" she asked gently, tenderly.

He looked up, his eyes filled with misery. "How could I not believe them?" After I realized the mistake I made…I knew that you had every right to. And I couldn't forget you. My only way to survive, at that point, was to bury the heartbreak, and convinced myself that you hated me, and that everything we had…everything we had was gone."

Krystal could feel his sincerity, and at that moment she knew they were alike. He had buried his heartbreak under a mound of loathing and certainly, certainty that she no longer wanted anything to do with him. And if last night was any indication, it hadn't worked. He could not stop loving her. She, on the other hand, had tried so hard to forget him, to hate him, to bury him away with all that she could, but despite that she had realized that he had meant well. Tragically meant well. She could not hate him. But she had still tried to move on, despite that. But the result was still the same. And now, seeing him again, looking at how he looked and seeing his thoughts, she knew he had realized his mistake. And she also recognized something else.

They were hopelessly in love with each other still.

"We both have tried to forget then. And it seems that we failed in that regard." she murmured.

"You couldn't forget me?" he asked, incredulous.

"Fox…with all we had…how could we forget each other?" she said gently, sadly. Then she looked at him, smiling a sad little smile. "How could we actually hate each other?"

At the moment, she could see something dawn on Fox's face. Something like…hope.

"You don't hate me?" he asked simply.

"Fox…" and her she smiled tenderly, "I think it would be impossible for us to hate each other."

Fox sat stock still on the coach, and then he did something that Krystal had never see him do in all the days she had been part of the team.

He started to sob.

His body shook with sighs and tears, and it looked as if he were about to break apart. Whatever dam had been holding back his feelings for the past months had broken apart, and now he was being assaulted by everything his feelings could muster. With her telepathic abilities she peered into his mind again and saw what had caused such a reaction.

He was just so incredibly relieved to hear that she did not hate him.

At that moment, she walked over to him and sat beside him, and held him. Fox latched on her as if she might disappear, and cried into her shoulder. She felt her heart warm at having the time to be intimate with him again, to comfort him.

Fox continued to cry for another five minutes, with Krystal patiently rubbing his back. When he stopped, he looked up at her, eyes red and full of pure longing.

"Krystal…I…I…"

"You want me to come back," she said gently.

"More than anything. More than anything in the world…" he murmured shakily. "Krystal…I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And I…I…I…please, come back. Please forgive me. I know now that I was wrong. You piloted knowing all the risks, and all those risks-"

"Were nothing in the face of the fact that I wanted to be with you." she finished for him. She was tearing up herself now. "Fox, I tried to forget you, to hate you, but I couldn't. I loved you so much as well. And to see you like this…It hurts me."

"Don't come back out of pity. I won't let you. What matters right now is that you have to want to. Which is why I'm begging you…If you would like too…could you…?"

At that moment she made her decision. The fact that he was more worried for her sake solidified everything.

"Promise me." she said, smiling. She was ready, now.

"Anything."

"Never," she began, "never leave me like that again. Know that no matter how scary things can be, no matter what…I choose to stay, I choose to protect you."

Fox smiled, smiled what must have been his first real and happy smile in so long.

"I promise. I will never leave you. I will never leave your side. I will always be there for you. Together, we will protect each other. I will do the very best I can."

Now Krystal was crying tears of joy, and in that moment her reply was simple and sweet.

"I forgive you, And I will fly with you again."

And Fox once again embraced her, crying his eyes out and saying how happy he was, saying "thank you" over and over again. She could feel in the depths of his mind joy, love, and peace. Joy because she was there again. Love because love in return was assured. And peace, peace that wiped away the darkness that had been close to consuming him completely.

They were one again.

And she, like him, was happy.

And that was all that mattered.