Disclaimer: Me no own Chronotrigger. Me own goodly grammar when me likes.

A/N: Okay, here is the end. Finally. Yes, I know it's just a tad sad, but I might be writing a sequel. Otherwise, well, poignant is okay, too, right?

Epilogue: "Shall I Light the Lamp?"

Crono and Marle were lying together on a grassy hilltop. It was sunset, and a cool night breeze was just beginning to whisper through the treetops of the nearby Guardia Forest.

"Crono!" called a voice, sounding very familiar.

Crono, lying in a pleasant, half-dozing state, could not place it immediately. He sat up leisurely, yawning, and brushed lazily at the back of his head to get rid of the various bits of verdure that were clinging to it. He was then promptly knocked flat on his back as Lucca rounded the corner at a full speed run and tripped over him, sprawling inelegantly on the ground.

"Lucca?!" exclaimed Crono, sitting up. Marle sat up too, amazement and welcome glowing in her eyes.

"Hey everybody!" Lucca exclaimed, sitting up with a gasp and a blush. "I finally made it back and I just had to find you!"

"Come to think of it, why didn't you come back sooner?" Crono asked. "We left you a note."

"Did you? It must have gotten lost. Took me ages to figure out how to get back to this time. Anyway, I've got news!"

"News?" queried Crono. "What sort of news?"

For answer, Lucca reached into her pocket and yanked out two envelopoes labeled 'Crono' and 'Marle.' She shoved them at the bewildered pair and said, "Read."

It was a card. "You are cordially invited," Crono read aloud, "to the wedding of Lucca Ashtear."

He did a double take. "You're getting married?" he exclaimed, shocked.

"That's, like, so cool!" Marle cried excitedly. "I'm so happy for you, Lucca! Who's the lucky guy?"

Lucca went red and said, "Wlsmblgbls."

"What?"

"Er, Magus," she whispered, her cheeks warming as she watched her two friends' open-mouthed stares.


Shimmering faintly, the Gate out of which Crono and Marle had stepped vanished slowly.

"Oh, Crono," sighed Marle, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Wasn't their wedding romantic?"

"Yeah," Crono agreed, but he sounded distracted. His eyes were fixed on a point near the horizon.

"What's the matter?" Marle asked. Crono scratched his nose curiously.

"Do you remember that tower ever being there before?" he asked softly, pointing to where something cast a tall, dark silhouette against the setting sun. Marle looked surprised. "I don't exactly know. Let's go see what it is."

As they came closer, she exclaimed, "Why, it's Magus's lighthouse, of course!"

"Of course," Crono smiled, about to turn away, but something made him pause.

"Let's explore it," he said to Marle, who shrugged and followed him toward it.

In front of it were two old stone graves standing side by side. Crono felt a shiver run down his spine as he approached them. Marle followed. Crono knelt in front of the two rounded tombstones, wearing smooth from years of erosion by sun, wind, and rain. He squinted at the inscriptions. On the first, barely visible, were the the words. "Lucca Ashtear. Mage, engineer, wife, mother. She will be missed." There followed, "Born ----, died 30--." The year of birth was worn away, as were the last two number of the year of death.

Crono felt a lump building in his throat as he turned to the second. "Janus Ashtear," he read. "Mage, warrior, husband, father. May you find in death that which you lost in life. Born ----, died 31--." Here, too, the same numbers were missing.

"What's the matter, Crono?" Marle's voice said behind him.

"Nothing," Crono responded, turning to her. As he did so, he noticed that the once-white stones of the lighthouse had been blackened by the fury of an ancient fire.

"I was just thinking," Marle said, with an obliviously happy sigh. "Wasn't it sweet of Schala to give Lucca and Magus her pendant as a wedding present?"

Something stirred in Crono's mind, and he gazed contemplatively at the rich, red-blond locks of hair that framed Marle's pale face.

"Marle…" he said slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you dye your hair?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I thought you knew that. Some stupid tradition or other. All the Guardian royalty have to dye it this color."

"What color was it before?"

"I can show you. When I got my last haircut before they dyed it, I saved a little and put it in a locket. No real reason, I guess, except future nostalgia, maybe."

"Can I see it now?"

She shrugged. "Sure." Reaching inside her dress, she fished out a battered old locket, which she opened. She dumped the contents into Crono's hand. He stared at the hair in his hand, barely moving. As the sun glinted off the rich violet color, he thought he faintly heard a cry of pain and rage that transcended millennia and, fainter still, little more than a whisper, a girl's voice, familiar, yet not, "Shall I light the lamp?"