A/N: For starters, let me apologize in advance because this author's note is gonna be obnoxiously long.

Well guys, we have reached chapter 25 of 100 which, according to my (usually flawed) math, means that I am officially 1/4 of the way done with this project! Huzzah! At this rate, it's only going to take me another approximately 3 years to finish...ha...

But anyways, to celebrate, I wanted to ask you guys a question: What have been your favorite chapters so far? Doesn't matter if you've read them all or only a select few, just let me know what you think! Also, you're free to give any amount that you want - top ten, top five, top 3...doesn't matter to me!

Also, I figure I'll join in the fun by listing my top five favorites of these one-shots. Now these aren't necessarily the ones that are "technically" the best; they're just the ones that I like most (and as a fun bonus, I'll include the title of the one-shot. Yes, all the one-shots have official titles that I haven't shared):

5. Ch. 13 - Oliver x CUL (A Clockwork Heart)

4. Ch. 14 - Dell x Lily (Circle of Perfection)

3. Ch. 5 - Dell x Yukari (A Rabbit)

2. Ch. 11 - Kaito & Yuki (Heartbeat)

1. Ch. 22 - IA x ? (Reality vs. Reality)

So there you have it, those are my favorites.

I have to give a million and a half thank yous to everyone that has reviewed and supported me: Riv, Juice (AliceUnderSkies13, that's the nickname I've decided on for you. If you hate it, let me know and I'll think of something else!), Yi, Abracadoofus, and Ten-Ten. Honestly, I can't thank you guys enough for your support. It means so much to me and I am truly blessed to have you guys behind me for this project. Thank you so much!

Song: Reflections of Long Ago - Nox Arcana

Pairing: TonioxMiriam

For a few moments, she could only stare at the still closed door. It was simple and unadorned, giving no indication of what might be contained inside. However, her entire body shook as her eyes once more traced the wood trimmings. She wasn't sure what would happen once she opened the door; the only thing that was certain was that it would be a catalyst of change.

Gathering every ounce of courage she had, she took the doorknob in her hand and gently applied pressure, allowing the door to swing silently on well-oiled hinges. Drawing upon her courage once more, she took one hesitant step into the room, slowly followed by another. Without the assistance of light, the room looked dark and foreboding, only increasing the feeling of dread that roiled within her stomach.

The longer she stared at the room, the more it felt like a crypt.

The longer she stared at the room, the more the utter silence of the night settled around her.

Filled with sudden pain, her hands fumbled for the light switch located near the door. Relief rushed through her frame as she found the switch and turned it on with the tiniest snick of confirmation. The overhead lights flare to life, flooding the room with cheap florescent light. Her footsteps dragged heavily beneath her as she treaded towards the window, consciously forcing her eyes to look straight ahead. Answering to a call she can't even begin to sort through and name, she opened the window and was greeted with a sharp blast of cold air, the quiet howl of the wind, and cold snowflakes drifting lazily into the room. She strained her ears for the sound of human voices - to confirm that she wasn't the only living being left.

The only thing that greeted her was the lonely howl of the wind and a cold smattering of snowflakes.

She took several gasping breaths, feeling the cold night air sear her lungs, as she tried to calm her thoughts enough to think logically. Of course there were no people out and about at this hour, it makes perfectly logical sense.

Yes, it makes perfectly logical sense.

She's not alone...she's not alone...

Her hands gripped the metal frame of the window as she repeated her mantra to herself over and over again, clinging to it as her last hope. Despite her best attempts to convince herself that no one will be awake at this hour, she can't help but continue to listen for people. She needs to know that other people are there. She needs to know that she's not the only one who is going through this.

She is met with barren indifference.

Commanding her long-ago stiffened limbs into action, she turned away from the window, lacking the strength to close it. Perhaps if she left it open long enough, she reasoned, she'll be able to hear the activity of people below. However, as her eyes swept over the room, she felt the helplessness and loneliness crash over her once more. For several seconds, it's all she can do to prevent herself from screaming.

She's not alone.

She's always there.

She can't be alone.

It just doesn't make sense.

The heavily decorated room mocked her with its soft, pastel colors, speaking of warm spring days and easy-going laughter. Nothing within the room eases her tormented state of mind. Instead, wherever her eyes land, it only increases the pain.

The first thing that managed to hold her attention was the crib. In the florescent lights from above, the white-washed wood seemed to glow slightly. The pink blanket hanging at the foot of the crib lay neatly folded, not a single crease or wrinkle out of place. Above the bed hung a child's mobile from which a singular note had never sounded – just as pristine and untouched as everything.

Untouched and alone.

Her eyes closed as she fought back tears. Despite her misgivings, her feet shuffled slowly across the floor before she stopped right next to the crib.

She couldn't bring herself to peer down into it. Instead, she stared at the mobile that swayed gently in the breeze issuing from the still open window. Her numbed hands moving of their own volition, she gently turned the crank for the mobile and listened to the soft tinkling of bells that filled the room. Her eyes closed as she allowed herself to imagine.

Within this world, turning on the mobile was a ritual she engaged in every night. Within this world, she had heard 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' so many times that she was growing increasingly sick of it. Within this world, the room was warm and one of her favorite places in the house.

Within this world, she wasn't alone.

As if to mock her delusion, a sharp blast of wind from outside rushed into the room and made her shiver. Turning once more to look at the window, she listened as the mobile stubbornly irked out a few more notes before falling silent.

It was a delusion, it was a fantasy; she knew that.

Maybe if she believed in the illusion strongly enough, she could make it a reality.

Stupid really, something that only a precocious child would believe.

Yes…stupid…

Stupid and naïve.

Slowly and laboriously, she allowed herself to turn around and look down into the crib.

Stupid and naïve.

Inside, she found only a teddy bear. Perhaps answering to some childish call within herself, she took the bear within her hands and stared down at its soft, comforting face.

There were no indications that it has ever been held in the hands of a child; there was no matted fur or missing eyes or threadbare fabric to indicate that it had been a child's constant companion throughout the years. There was nothing that would differentiate this bear from the millions of other bears that had been produced; it looked exactly as it had the day she selected it from the toy store.

Unloved, unnoticed, and alone.

She wished she could say that the bear was filled with memories, but she couldn't.

She wished she could say that the blanket at the foot of the bed had been rolled in time and time again; she wished she could say that the mobile had played night after night to a fussy audience.

But she couldn't.

Perhaps she will never be able to.

Still gripping the bear tightly within her hands, she allowed her eyes to once more sweep the room even though she already knew what her eyes will snag on next – it's the object that holds the second most significance in the room. Just as she predicted, her eyes settled on the brightly colored walls. Ever square inch of the walls are filled with fantastical paintings that look as if they stepped right out of a child's overactive imagination. Knights fought dragons; princesses danced in sweeping ball gowns; fairies hovered at the edges, painting everything with the glitter of fairy dust.

She could remember every brushstroke that went into the painting.

She could remember every moment that she put into making the image as perfect and fantastical as possible.

She could remember looking at the finished product with delight, knowing that it would bring nothing but pleasant dreams and fantastical flights of fancy.

Stupid and naïve.

The longer she stared, the more she realized that she was squeezing the bear within her hands tighter and tighter. With monumental effort, she managed to tear her eyes away from the paintings on the wall. It was useless; anywhere she casted her eyes lead to nothing but pain. The closet, filled with tiny clothing she had painstakingly chosen; the bookshelf, filled with colorful children books that detailed her favorite fairytales; the toy chest, overflowing with bright plastic novelties – all of these images only pushed the knife deeper.

Eventually, her eyes once more returned to the painting on the wall, but this time her sight wandered to the lower left corner of the mural. From the distance she at, the particular picture she looked at appeared to be nothing more than a green blob with random smudges of black. Truthfully, she knew that's essentially what it was – she may have been quite the talented painter, but that did not mean that her husband happened to share that talent.

Still gripping the bear within her hands, she walked to the painting and began to trace the outer contours of the image, dropping lower and lower until she was sitting on her knees and one of her hands rested on the painting of the green blob. Up close, it was easier to see what the artists was intending for the picture to be. She could see the eyes, nose, mouth, arms, and legs that extend from the body. A ghost of a smile decorated her lips.

When he had first painted it, she was more than a little miffed. The first problem was that he hadn't asked her permission to add anything to the painting. The second problem was that it clashed with everything else she had painted so far. Didn't he understand that they were having a daughter, not a son? Didn't he understand that a daughter was supposed to have her room decorated with fairies and unicorns and magic? When she brought this point up to him, he only gave one of his awkward, lopsided grins.

"Maybe our daughter will be different."

It was such a typical argument from him that in the end she relented and allowed him to keep the out-of-place alien within the corner. She had contemplated painting over the silly little drawing several times, but she never quite had the heart to go through with it.

Maybe their daughter would be different; maybe their daughter would enjoy the little green alien sneaking into her world of princesses.

It's a question that she can't answer.

It's a question that she'll never be able to answer.

It was a question from a time when she wasn't alone.

Moving of its own accord, her hand left the mural and came to rest of her stomach. She began to gently trace circles across the fabric covering her swollen belly. A few shuddering breaths escaped her lips as she tried her best to control her emotions.

It was pointless.

She no longer carried a tiny life inside her.

By the time she had the opportunity to hold her daughter within her arms, she was already dead. She remembered how tiny and frail she looked, a little bundle of angry red flesh.

She was all alone now.

A miscarriage.

As her mind returned to the present, tears began to fall. They ran freely down her face as she finally gave into the growing despair that had been gnawing at her for the past week. Her unrestrained wails of frustration, regret, and powerlessness filled the silence of the night. She clutched the teddy bear to her breast, almost as if she were holding a child.

Unexpectedly, she felt arms wrapping around her frame and heard a soft voice whispering her name into her ear over and over again. The familiar comfort of her husband's arms around her only made the tears rush down her face with renewed vigor. For six months she had been carrying the tiny life inside her and now it had been snatched away from her.

"…Why?"

The word escaped her as nothing more than a chocked sob as she continued to cry into the night. The entire time, her husband simply held her tighter, rocking gently back and forth as she mourned for a daughter that she would never know.

She wasn't sure how long the two of them sat there, but by the time she gained control of herself again, her throat was raw and her eyes were dry and puffy. Even after her crying had completely died down, the two of them remained in absolute silence.

Suddenly, she felt him release his grasp and she watched silently as he headed towards the window and gently closed it. There was an instantly shift in the room as the winter wind stopped rushing in through the window. When her husband once more turned around, she looked up into his face and realized for the first time that his eyes were also puffy and red – he had been crying as well. This revelation only made her cling tighter to the bear within her arms.

Her husband walked back over to her and once more held her in his arms, tracing gentle circles on her back. To her surprise, she felt her husband's chest begin to rumble as he hummed gently under his breath. She recognized the song instantly. Her lips started moving on their own, forming the words to a nursery rhyme that she had known since her earliest memories.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky…twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…"

Her voice cracked on the last word as she felt another wave of jumbled emotions wash over her. The bear she was holding fell uselessly to the ground as she clung desperately to her husband. The sound of her broken sobs once more filled the night as she listened to the heartbeat of her husband, the confirmation that he was still alive and was still standing next to her.