The daylight comes, and they look up, watching the sun rise in the west.
It's been a long time since it rose in the east.
They hold one another, waiting for the sun to drive away the chill, wishing they could stay like this for just a little longer. But the sun keeps rising, and they know that if they stay still too long, they won't survive.
"Time to get up," Megamind whispers, kissing the top of Roxanne's head and helping her to her feet.
They fight every day to survive. They fight tooth and nail for their right to life, and most days it feels like they're falling behind. The blue man hasn't eaten a solid meal in weeks. The woman wouldn't have either, if he didn't give her all the food he could spare. He'd stop eating altogether if she didn't force him to eat enough to sustain him.
"Keep the cave safe, Minion," Megamind calls, and the fish looks up and gives a silly, fishy grin. He's somehow managed to keep his spirits high.
"Me and 102 will do our best!" he promises, and the slowly deteriorating brainbot to the left of the pool he's lived in since his body broke down gives a half-hearted bowg.
Megamind forces a smile and wraps his arms around Roxanne. She leans against him for a moment before they leave the cave, looking up at the sun and allowing it to wash over their aching bodies. They stand still just long enough to let the sunshine graze their bones, and then start out into the forest.
Megamind's arms never leave her. He won't let go. If he had the option, he'd leave her behind with Minion, but Minion can't offer much protection anymore. Maybe enough, with the brainbot's help, to keep the cave their own, but not enough to keep her and the baby safe.
They worry constantly about the baby. It should be coming any day now. Really, she shouldn't be walking for any distance at all, but they can't risk leaving her alone, and Megamind needs to leave every day to find food and firewood. They have only so much day-to-day, and they desperately need to stock up for the coming winter.
Even worse is the worry that the baby won't be healthy.
Even worse than that is that it's a hybrid, and they can't be sure it will even survive.
It was an accident-a wonderful accident involving a broken condom and Megamind coming home from heroing to find Roxanne waiting at a kitchen table, Minion grinning so hard he couldn't talk, and spinning Roxanne around and around and around the room, laughing and crying at the same time.
But then things had gone wrong, and it quickly became clear that their gift may never take its first breaths.
Deep into the forest, Roxanne suddenly breaks down. Her knees go weak and her feet go out from under her as she falls to the ground, catching herself with her hands and leaning over.
Megamind immediately drops to her side, holding her shoulders, fear wild in his eyes. They don't have machines. They don't have medicine. They don't even have another human besides Roxanne, certainly not one who has experience with children. When the world died and Metrocity burned, everyone split into groups. No one wanted a pregnant reporter and an alien inventor. Their skills seemed terribly obsolete in the New World, particularly with Megamind's all-too-visible coloring and Minion's clunky, loud robot body.
They were all in it together, and they were all alone.
"Is it the baby?" Megamind asked, but Roxanne shook her head. She looked like she was about to speak, but then she closed her mouth and began to cry.
Megamind pulled her into his arms again and held her, rocking slowly back and forth until she was ready to form words. They came shuddering, halting, filled with raw emotion.
"We have no future," she whispered, and Megamind hushed her, soothing.
"Don't talk like that."
"It's true!" Roxanne cried, and Megamind wished he could take the pain away from her voice. She shouldn't be in pain. She didn't deserve it. She was so strong... "We're all going to die. The world is over. The human race might as well be extinct."
She squeezed his hand for comfort, and Megamind nuzzled her hair.
"Don't talk like that," he insisted, setting one hand over her womb. "There will be a future. I promise. We're making the future. We are the future."
"But we're adapting."
For a long time, they didn't speak.
For a long time, they just sat there.
For a long time, they lent one another comfort.
And for a long time, they envisioned a future with blue-skinned children, tall and lean and strong, who would bring the world into a new era, one of peace and prosperity and truth.
Metrocity had burned. The wind had scattered the ashes.
The world had died. Catastrophe had scattered the survivors.
The past was dead. The past was gone. The past was never coming back, and the present's breathing was shallow. But maybe, if they worked hard enough and persevered, the future might just have a pulse.
Maybe, if they just worked hard enough and persevered, in a few days, the future might have a name.
After the end, there are two options—live or die.
I think they've chosen to live.