Darkness enclosing, a crossroads at night. A person stands, trying to decide. He is difficult to see; only the dull shine of a loose white shirt and the sag of blood red pants. After a moment's pause, he chooses both directions.

The darkness swallows all.

(No matter what the time…)

Heavy rain falls on a black city, greenish smoke from multiple, high-tiered factories sizzling as it connects with the moisture. A missive tower of ridges and rising pipes shines murky light down upon the sectioned ground level, marked by filth and crumbling buildings. At the highest part of the tower sits an observation level, topped with a thin, reaching antenna, piercing the clouded sky.

A figure stands impossibly at the narrowed point of this steel marker, silver hair waving in the increasing wind and blind-folded eyes watching without seeing.

He waits.

(I'm just alone…)

Farther away than can be measured, a tanned, slender hand releases a bottle into a rose-colored surf, bare legs kneeling on pristine sand. The edges of a dark red skirt can be seen and the rustling tips of same-colored hair. A sad smile as the bottle begins to drift away, buoyed by the waves as the sun sinks into the horizon.

"A world without you…"

The sound of soft footsteps crunch across the sand, heavy boots making their way to the kneeling one. A black-gloved hand is placed on a delicate yet muscled shoulder, the results of training and intense hope. The face shifts, hair sliding to block it from view as the smile disappears and sapphire eyes meet tired, ready black. An empty red sleeve flaps in the wind.

"It's time."

(Destiny forgotten…)

A different beach, dark and surrounded by black crags of broken and misshapen rocks, frozen in some distant, forgotten agony. A moon of faded gold releases uncertain light, glowing ripples of still water. There are waves, but no sound; cold, but no reason to care.

A heavy slate-colored raincoat moves with sudden motion, a figure walking without steps into view, ephemeral for a moment as he passes through the crags. For an instant, a broken crest passes before him, but disappears quickly and leaves the only sign of his presence the sound-not-sound of his footsteps and the shine of a single yellow eye.

He looks out to the ebon water and smiles.

"Something so natural…"

(Even though I kept going…)

Within the desolate city, beneath the citadel made of steel and the loss of gathered hope, walks another figure, dark gray hood hiding most of his features from view. Only near-white hair hangs to cover his eyes, tips waving with every confident step. The rain falls around him, unheeded; the shadows rising from the ground are what claim his attention. Masses of them, coming for him, muscular arms and glowing eyes searching, reaching.

A faded, broken crest without color besides black sits, still and alive, on the chest of every creature.

They encircle him, closing tighter and tighter, but he doesn't move. Instead, he merely waits, gloved hands limp at his sides and raindrops sliding down his form. Puddles of liquid reflect the shadows seeking his destruction and the flickering lights of long-broken fixtures.

But of the figure there is no sign.

(Inside of the sudden light I awaken…)

The shadows leap forward all at once, dozens upon dozens centered on the lone figure, who remains still for a moment longer. Then, movement, all at once, and the coat swirls as the figure back flips into the air, two Keyblades spinning into his hands. One is mostly white, delicately shaped but almost indestructible; the Oathkeeper.

The other is a mixture of black and midnight blue, lined with chains and demon's wings; the Oblivion, though far more fragile than it seems.

While still in the air, he throws both Keyblades into an intertwining, spinning line, crisscrossing over each other as they cut through the shadows with ease. He catches them as he lands in a crouch, a phosphorescence forming around him in bright, neon violet.

The outline of a heart, split at the bottom.

(In the middle of the night…)

Pausing even as more shadows appear to replace those destroyed, he looks behind him, to the massive tower rising above. He slides to his feet, Keyblades moving to decimate the shadows as neon signs flash red and yellow through the rain with a crack of electric sound.

-Shinra-

He looks higher, seeing without seeing the figure waiting at the highest point. Spinning once to drive the shadows away, he leaps onto the nearest rise, jumping from one to the other, higher and higher until, at last, only the main tower is left to scale.

"Something so simple…"

With another swirl of clothing, he is running up the side of the building, heading with all speed towards the other figure with the shadows trailing behind.

(Quietly…)

A theatre, run-down yet colorful and happy in design. A younger boy, with golden hair and cream-colored tail, watches over an unconscious pair, worried yet full of hope. He paces from time to time, casting worried glances to the wizard and knight, sure that they would have woken days ago.

It bothers him that he doesn't know what's wrong.

With quick, hasty movements, a girl enters the theatre, carrying something in her hands. Long black hair flaring out behind her, she runs to the boy, handing him a bottle. Within it is a message, which he takes out and reads with ever-widening eyes.

"But…it can't be real…"

(Stand in the exit way…)

Atop the tower the silver-haired one tilts his head downward, seeing, despite the distance and the obstruction on his eyes, his approaching counterpart. A smile as he reaches up, pulling the blindfold away. The rain begins to slacken, but the winds become more violent, his hair continuing to hide his features from view.

He leaps off the antenna, plunging straight down with coat fluttering behind him. He smiles all the way.

The other looks up, seeing him, and goes faster, his form a blur on the darkened steel and ridged wall of the tower. They get closer and closer to each other, shadows following them from each side.

The clouds part high above, torn by the wind, and a cascade of stars fall in the night, tears of times forgotten and the pieces of something irrevocably lost. The narrowing of eyes behind a sheen of silver, flashing in the darkness.

"But why…?"

(And, in the pitch black, take the light…)

They are near to each other now, the gap closing as the seconds pass. Expression shifting to one of anger, he raises the Oathkeeper, tip illuminated by a final crack of lightning from the fading storm, defiant against the coming calm. In an instant, they meet, and with all strength, he plunges the Oathkeeper into the chest of the other, who never ceases to smile.

"Where's Sora?"

The soft whisper of light, a tiny piece of brightness responding with existence to the presence of the white Keyblade. It drifts free, falling into the darkness but continuing to shine, a star to remain after all other lights go out.

The Oblivion now rests in the other's hand and, with the same ease but lacking the anger, returns the favor, his counterpart jerking as the black reaches inside.

"You can't save him."

(And about the recent promises…)

"Will she be alright?"

An innocent, knowing question, sapphire eyes watching with anxious care as a woman, a girl, walks into the temple on the sunlit island, dual-colored eyes bright with hope and purpose. Yet they know it will be hard, and that it will cost her more than they are willing to give. But she will give it anyway.

And someone is coming to help.

"Maybe…" comes the answer as a tanned hand brushes deepened red hair, worn, intricate staff held with the ease of long practice. She's been here long enough to know how to defend herself. "But…I'm worried."

Three pairs of eyes fall onto her still-young figure, wary and aware that she knows far more than any of them. The rustle of a long, heavily belted dress as one moves toward her, anxiety in crimson eyes.

"Why?"

"I can't hear his voice anymore."

(A wish that's wanting to be said, but shall be repressed…)

The darkened beach, the moon unmoving. A glowing yellow eye travels through the dark, hood hiding all else. He approaches another sitting on the beach, watching the black waters in their perpetual, useless movements. He turns his head, seeing it too, and caring, for just a moment, that this world is still.

But it fades.

The sitting one points out to sea, where the waters grow more turbulent, low, rippling waves that hide depths beyond reckoning. Darkness and light shift beneath, aching to rise but incapable.

The door is broken.

"He looks just like you."

"…he would."

(No matter what the time…)

Together, the figures on the tower fall, forms graceful and sad as they descend past the gathered shadows, which turn to follow them. But they will reach the desolate catacombs at the bottom first, the withered homes of those without hope, though the place they reach contains a small piece of light, that which fell and that which was created.

Shattered wooden beams of a church are a testament of their arrival, cloaked forms slamming into a soft, welcoming bed of green leaves and yellow blossoms; the only place of life in a city of corruption.

After a moment, identical eyes are forced open, meeting one another in the patch of light, petals drifting down around them. A crooked smile and an angry frown in response.

"We'll go together…"

A small, dark figure, clad in similar clothes and holding a gold and silver Keyblade, watches them with narrowed eyes.

(The light known as 'you' finds me…)

Hovering above the wounded sea, eyes closed yet knowing all, a young form clad in red and white, a dusting of ebon feathers, real yet not, on his shoulders. A sleep without dreams, a want for something beyond reach. Clouds part above him, revealing the weeping stars. Midnight eyes slowly open, light reflected but not contained in their depths. Within them is nothing; only pain and an echo.

A hand reaches up, catching a falling star.

Shadows gather around him, yet are calm, meek. They do not seek his destruction. In truth…

"We have come for you, my liege."

A bitter smile, a grin so familiar that it hurts to see it, though none who remember are here to do so. He rises from his sleep, straightening as the sea parts to allow his movements. The stars continue to fall and are taken into the black waters, yet one remains in his hand, beating strong.

"You are the source of all Heartless."

(In the middle of the night.)

"…find them…"

Ahem. The above lyrics are from Hikari, by Utada Hikaru, provided by .

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is the last. 'When All Other Lights go Out' has now ended, but, as you have just read, the journey is not over. Obviously, there WILL be a SEQUEL, titled 'To Light a Candle'. What happens? Who's in it? Well, all the clues I'm willing to give have been placed above and it's up to you to figure it out. The other burning question is, of course, when. Well, I definitely won't be doing anything until my other two fics are finished, of that I'm sure.

More than likely, it'll start appearing on the weekends later on in July or August, but I can't be sure. All I know is that I must do a sequel; not only for myself, but for you as well.

Speaking of you, I'd like to thank all my reviewers. This got no where near as much reviews as my major work, but I really didn't expect to get as much as I did. I'm truly grateful, for your support, encouragement, and for those of you who pestered me with questions, advice, and the voice of experience (). I'd also like to give a big thanks to Koorino Megumi. If it hadn't been for our little, uh, 'war', some of my chapters wouldn't have come out so good. That, and she seemed to like it so much that there was no way I could ever stop writing.

Thanks so much. ^_^

My muses thank you as well, though Ryu hates everybody since good reviews and responses mean more work for him…but who cares?

Also, I have thanks to give out (quite a lot, yes?) for your patience with me. It took me a week longer than expected to finish this and I feel bad about that. I mean, I would be just about dying of want by this time if I was in your shoes (good thing I'm not), but I hope when I get down to the sequel I won't pull stuff like that again.

Not without good reason, anyway.

I suppose I will check out now, get back down to moving and waiting and writing and playing my PS2 (while it's still in the house, anyway). If anyone is reading my other stuff, expect a new chapter or two-maybe-on the seventh of June. And I'll be back into this arc someday, with, hopefully, more surprises, love, loss, danger, and terrible cliffhangers.

…sounds like fun. ^_~

With smiles, a few tears, and no small amount of relief,

Rem-chan

P.S. And my reaction at this time, about 12:54 am Monday night (or Tuesday morning, if you prefer): "OH MY GOD! IT'S REALLY OVER!" Cue the hysterical weeping on the bed. Joy or sorrow? Hmm…the world may never know.

~Sailor Moon SuperS, Manga version