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MS. PAC-MAN was still in a daze when she awoke. She had dreamed in splinters that collapsed into blackness; her cognizance was consistent, but thoughts and words were slow to come. Inky saw how tired she still was. He understood why.

"Let's go to the top of your labyrinth," he suggested. "There, we will have the highest view possible of the world."

"I love you," she told him. "Yes, let's do that."

And so it was on the rooftop above the two hundred fifty-fifth maze that they rested that day. Together, pulsing with emptiness that time would slowly banish, united in the blank-walled darkness but with a panorama of light far below and before them. Beyond the two hundred twentieth level the walls were invisible, suggesting a final stage to Ms. Pac-Man's presence there—a story at its climax. There was a feeling of forbiddenness to this rooftop. It was as if she had never been intended to reach it, for it wrapped up too many ends. The count of bobbing fruit throughout her quest had seemed random until she'd reached this point, but when the last two fruits had brought the count of all seven types to equality, she realized they had been drawn from a secret repository all along. The purpose of her quest had likewise became clear, as she collected the final stone. At the great moments in life, things that seem random become anything but.

This was their honeymoon, she realized. They watched the world. There was nothing moving below, except a distant path that seemed to shimmer, and they whispered of whether it was Sue, or an illusion. Somewhere down there, anyway, Sue was wandering in her own madness. As there was no one else present to witness them, they called her their official witness and spoke of her collapse as their moment of consecration. They composed and exchanged vows to each other, there at the summit of their world.

"Will your son come to join us?" asked Inky.

I don't dare speculate," she replied. "But I hope he does. In time. Once he's had all the adventures he wants."

Will there never be any more?"

Ms. Pac-Man smiled to her love. "Isn't that what I should ask you? It's your theory."

Inky looked around the dark rooftop, hovering in wonder. "We're past the realm of theory."

"We're out of the spotlight. But I still can't be sure it will never shine again."

"It will shine on our other possibilities. The ones we didn't live."

"Just as it fails to shine on the lives we lose?"

Inky brought his eyes forward and down. It weighted him ever so slightly; it was like a nod.

"So here we are… the living dead. Our destiny abandoned—not for death's sake, but for our own."

Inky turned around and faced the stairs. He no longer hovered. Ms. Pac-Man spun around and followed his gaze in horror.

Sue was there, at the entrance. She wasn't moving.

That in itself was horrifying. There was only one exit to this place—she was blocking it. There were no power pellets here. That meant Sue could imprison her here for as long as she liked. It had been careless, Ms Pac-Man realized, to come here, but she hadn't expected someone as rash as Sue to halt by the exit. If she'd thought of the danger, she would have expected to be able to circumvent it. Yet that wasn't the worst of it.

Sue was laughing. And her laughter wasn't meant for herself alone.

"I can't believe it! They are up here! Together! They thought they'd just hide away forever… but nothing's forever! Right, Blinky?"

Blinky. He was here too, then. Had none of the ghosts adhered to duty? Had none of them found their intended prey worth pursuing?

If Sue was a savage bonfire, then Blinky was the raging glow of an iron-tinged planet crashing out of orbit. His body was not blood red, but red like molten metal, and he streaked over the open roof with the determination of a gigantic bird, careening in from the sky and burning at the wingtips. He said only one thing, and it was in a whispered that crackled like hot coals: "For them all."

Only one object on the roof could even remotely hinder movement. It was a single post in the center of the rooftop, extending up from the levels below. Ms. Pac-Man did not know its purpose: it might have been a pillar supporting the entire complex, or perhaps the source of light for all the mazes below the two hundred twentieth. But she ran for it instantly, reaching it just ahead of Blinky. The instinct to put something between herself and her pursuer had come to her just in time; were it not for the post, Blinky, whose speed now matched that of Ms. Pac-Man, would have caught her in seconds.

Because she had the post around which to run, she could not be caught, so long as she did not make the slightest movement away from it. If Blinky circled in one direction, she could go the other way. And indeed, Blinky chased her around the post. Sue was blocking the exit, but Ms. Pac-Man would be safe if she kept her wits about her, and made no departure from her tight circuit.

Around and around and around she flew. Inky moved in a wider circle at a slower pace, apparently bewildered. She couldn't clearly see his expression, which was utterly subtle at the best of times. This circumstance seemed grim, but she was reassured by the presence of her lover. He was an ally, and family to the two ghosts. She had hope that he could perhaps convince Blinky to stop, or Sue to move away from the stairs.

"For them all?" Inky repeated, bewildered. "Who are them all?"

Blinky didn't answer. Uncharacteristically, neither did Sue. But Ms. Pac-Man couldn't guess. Blinky probably remembered Pinky, she realized. He wanted vengeance for his brother. And he might have been referring to Inky himself, if he saw her as his corrupter. But 'all' takes three, and she couldn't think who the third person could have been. Her brain was getting dim, in any case. She was running out of mental energy. It might be better not to speculate.

As before, she was trapped. But this was worse than when Sue had chased her. Here, she could not go wherever she liked, living her life on the run. She could talk to Inky, yes, but physically she was confined to this tiny path around a simple post. There would be nothing more for her until the ghosts either relented or she lost her concentration and was forced to give up a life. Perhaps she should do that. Perhaps that would be better than sinking slowly away. She would make sure to stay clear of enclosed places. Yet… did she even have any other lives? The thought drew her down like the coiling of a spring. Here, in this place of exile, she had no more speed than did the ghosts. Had her extra lives been stripped from her too? Were they an inherent part of her nature, or had they been gifts from destiny, taken away when destiny found itself forsaken?

Had she lost other gifts as well? Gifts of which she had been unaware?

She tried to coax a response from her pursuer. But Blinky was silent in his rage. He had no more words for anyone.

Inky hovered nearby, helpless, staring. Ms. Pac-Man wondered if he would ask another question, and if so, what? But he rushed for the exit instead, passing straight through Sue's body, and hurried down the stairs.

Ms. Pac-Man was confused by now, and too discombobulated to guess where he was going. But she took a small satisfaction in the sight of Sue's startled face, the next few times she circled the post. But her satisfaction soon gave way to despair.

She fell into a waking dream before an hour was out.

It was not an interesting or enlightening dream. It was a dream of hesitation and fear. It was a dream of compulsive switchbacks and chaotic patterns, of motion and response, motion and response, motion and response.

She had no choice. Blinky had began suddenly changing his direction of pursuit, repeatedly forcing Ms. Pac-Man to turn around or be caught. Reflex was the only way she could stay alive, and as she had been unable to stay awake, she had been forced to take her awareness of Blinky's sudden reversals into her subconscious state. She dreamed of the need to switch from clockwise to counterclockwise and back at a hair's notice, and that was all. So that was her last source of happiness spent—no rest, no freedom, no dreams. She knew this, but she did not think of it. She could no longer think of anything.

The figures moving in her dream became less abstract and more realistic as she lost further ability to focus. Her dreams were the same as her waking world now, only simpler—she and Blinky, rushing around a post, changing direction now and then, growing ever closer to exhaustion.

She saw herself from above now. The two shapes, red and yellow, began to move more slowly, but it was not because they were slowing down. It was because her mind needed to save energy, so it began to feed her visual stimuli as if her mental camera were spinning at the same rate as the two figures. Their motion slowed, and as it slowed she could discern changes—further simplifications—in the figure representing herself. In silent shock, she realized that her bow and her eye had disappeared. All that was left was a simple circle with a mouth…

Her husband. Here, at the bottom of her subconscious well, she was presented with no difference between herself and him. She had already forgotten why the image was wrong—what it was supposed to be. She had now forgotten why it upset her in the first place—there was nothing wrong with that image. It was she, and she was it… and had always been. Hadn't she?

Her last thoughts fell away, and the spinning image finally came to a halt. Now everything was still. Reality was nothing but a static diagram, representing some distant kind of motion that had been forgotten. And when all of reality stays the same, there is no time. And where there is no time…

But there, more decay. Half the world was gone. The red shape, jagged at its end, pocked with oblong eyes, had disappeared. Now all that remained was that unmoving self-image. Soon, perhaps it too would….

The ghost gone. No need to run.

Ms. Pac-Man made an effort to slow herself, to remember what that even meant. It was like starting to move again, only backward, and it pained her. Then she found herself suddenly awake and in a state of great confusion.

There was the sense of a significant blackness at her back, as if she had fainted. A part of her mind told her that she had died, but miraculously come back, and this was her second chance. But before her was Blinky, and like the specter he was, he seemed to be having trouble staying in one place. The feel of the smooth roof was under her body; she was being dragged. Should she be fleeing Blinky, even now? Somehow, he didn't seem to be pursuing her; if anything, he seemed to be chasing himself.

She blinked. Sue was screaming obscenities again, still by the exit to the stairs. The redness she saw resolved into what was clearly two forms—now this was impossible, or at least incredible—both red ghosts of the same shape, one large and one small. Four eyes sparked from the bedlam. She recognized Blinky now—the other was distracting him, weaving in and out, trying to keep him off balance, perhaps even away from her. But who was dragging her?

It was her husband.

She could feel the intrepity of his grip. She could smell him. She shook herself fully awake and realized that he was continuing to drag her around the post, but not steadily—only when the ghosts approached.

She felt him feel her come awake.

"Pepper!" he exclaimed. "You're all right!"

Gently, she freed herself from his grip—the ghosts were sufficiently distracted—and regained her own autonomy. "You saved me," she observed.

Aside from the caution he reserved for the darting red ghosts, his only emotion was jubilance. "You'll never believe it. One of the ghosts went turncoat! The blue one's on our side now! He told me where you'd gone, so I came to rescue you!"

She sighed, feeling bittersweet. "I know. And you left your quest?"

"Of course I did, Pepper! The ghosts had all disappeared anyway. Why wouldn't I come for you?"

So Inky had gone for help. On some level, she must have realized. He could not fight his own brethren, but the enemy could. "How did you get past… her?" She nodded toward Sue, who was yelling indistinctly at the red, dancing mass.

"She wasn't at the door when I got here. She moved over when I wasn't looking," said Pac-Man.

The lump she felt tasted odd. "But now we're both trapped here. Together."

"I…" This puzzled Pac-Man. "I think the ghosts are fighting. The little red one's helping us too, I think."

Ms. Pac-Man examined the spry form and was mildly surprised to discover that she was female. "Where did she come from?"

"Beats me. I think she's a kid. We… we can't really be trapped here, can we?"

At least things were more complicated now. Complications were better than terrible simplicity. "Unless we risk giving up our lives. But here… oh, Pac-Man, they may be the only lives we have!"

He huffed. "Because we left the game."

The game. "We left our destinies. We're no faster than they are now. We may have no more extra lives."

"Or maybe we'll come back forever and ever, like they do!" he countered, dodging Blinky as he broke free.

Such optimism… yet he did have a point. "Not all of them," she pointed out.

He frowned. Did he remember the pink ghost? "Well, if it's our only choice…"

Ms. Pac-Man sighed. They would settle into the option, if they had to. She had her strength back; she could afford to keep dodging. In the meantime, she would learn how things stood. "Where is Inky?" she asked.

"He was behind me. You know, Pepper, I never dreamed I'd be friends with a ghost! I just hope it's not a double-cross."

"It wasn't. And Junior?"

Pac-Man slackened. He then redoubled his focus on the enemies. "I don't know about him, Pepper."

Sue was quieting down now, watching the grim dance of meteoric red. Blinky started to ignore the small ghost and chase singlemindely again. Ms. Pac-Man and her husband dashed around the post together, darting back when their adversary's strategic reversals required it.

"If it does come down to a choice," she got out. "If it's between risking death and hoping we come back… or staying here trapped forever…"

"I'd stay with you, Pepper. You—the bad guys, the chase—to be honest, it's all I really need. Sure, I'd miss all the flashy adventures, but… they're not what matters."

She was what mattered? If she was all that mattered to him… together with 'the chase'… then what did he expect to matter to her? He had saved her—was she bound now to stay with him? What if Inky returned?

It was a frightening situation, but somehow… not as frightening as what she'd come through. She tried urgently to recall the horror, the stagnation that she'd fled in the first place. Why had she hated him? It came back to her, but only faintly. Like it was a joke, or a picture of a story, nothing more. All over again, she was amazed at how much everything had changed, now that she had untethered hersefl from her quest. But had her feeling changed for that reason, or for some other?

They were living in a loose end now. A loose end of destiny, a path unchaperoned, yes. But also a strange room on top of a complex of mazes. There were no mazes here. There was only hatred, and drama, and fear, and the ghost of love. But that was something. Ms. Pac-Man had made do with less.

She would bear this.

Suddenly the ghosts went blue; there was a flash of power from the stairs, and a rush of potency nearly bowled her over. It was a full second before she recognized the phenomenon, familiar though it was. A power pellet! Somehow, a power pellet had been triggered! Fearing it was too late, not knowing its duration, she leapt for Blinky. He too had been taken by surprise; unable to dodge her, he disintegrated and his eyes flew down the stairs. Sue stood at her post, wide eyed, frazzled and flailing, and Pac-Man went for her. "DAMN YOUR EYES!" she roared, and a moment later she was devoured.

Ms. Pac-Man glanced at the other ghost, blue and flashing like the others. She wondered if she should attack; she decided to take her husband's word for things, and instead flew from this wretched rooftop. She followed her husband down the stairs to the dark top maze; the ghosts were already reforming in Central Control. But—

Junior was hustling up before her. Urgent, fresh-faced and proud. "Mom! We have to go down from here! There's another pellet three floors down!"

No hello. But this was her hello. An acknowledgment that he'd come, and for her. And for his father, presumably. It was he who had swallowed the power pellet. "Junior," she said.

"No time Mom, talk later!" Of course. Of course there was no time. Of course they would talk later.

The danger was simple—they were slower than they used to be, or the ghosts faster, or both. Their usual strategies would no longer work. It was possible too that Blinky and Sue were free of certain instincts that had bound them during previous quests. Sue's behavior had been odd; if she hadn't been able to remain stolidly before the exit, the rooftop would have posed little danger. Now, there was no telling how much danger this duo would pose. Ms. Pac-Man bumped into a wall. She focused her memory—she had to remember the arrangement of these labyrinths. She'd spent so many long days in them, and the others hadn't. Finally recalling the layout, she feinted for the lower right corner to draw Sue away from the others, then took the tunnel and zipped down the stairs. All three of them ran; all three of them descended.

They had, as it turned out, plenty of time. The ghosts were just as confused by the dark walls as they were. The Pacs entered level two fifty-two and there, just as Junior had said, was another power pellet. Pac-Man grabbed it, and the pursuing ghosts were sucked back to the previous level's control box. Now the way was perfectly clear to descend… level after level after level. The ghosts might give chase, of course, but the family would be free.

Ms. Pac-Man was surprised to realize that at some point Inky had joined them in their descent, and she'd been aware of it. She just hadn't… realized he was there.

"Inky!" she cried. "You're so quiet. Like a zephyr!"

He acknowledged her with a brief push in her direction, and with his eyes, of course. But he said no words.

It was down, then, and down, down at length but by no means endlessly, and at last they spilled from the tall complex into the wide open blackness, surrounded by walls of coral orange. There, and only there, they allowed themselves to rest. Junior sat looking up apprehensively at the complex, glancing occasionally at the door. Was he acting as sentry? Such a responsible boy they'd somehow raised.

Ms. Pac-Man shook with relief. To be saved from destruction… by the one she had tried so hard to escape. By the one from whom her desperate flight had made all this terror, and wonder, possible. It was a feeling without description. She looked at him.

"Pepper," he said. Longingly. Nothing more.

Then suddenly the red ghost—the small, female red ghost emerged, a bow in her hair, and Junior dashed for her. "Junior! Have you gone crazy!?" she yelled.

But the two of them rushed into a rapid, tight loop, almost blinding in its speed; they circled each other, never touching, and far closer than she and Inky had ever dared race. She gasped. Beside her, she could hear her husband gasp, too.

"Yum-Yum!" he swooned, but his tone swiftly descended toward tears. "Thank you. Thank you, Yum-Yum. You helped me save my mom."

"I'm glad," she whispered. The small ghost's voice was a tiny rasp, like a single raspberry in a basket of fruit.

The two of them broke their dance and looked at Ms. Pac-Man. She came over to them.

"This is a surprise," she said.

"Mom." Junior seemed nervous. "Mom, I meant to tell you…"

"You have the agility of youth, and the grace of love," she said.

Her son blushed. The ghost somehow blushed too, despite her complete and total redness.

"If you are… together, then I have no objection," she went on.

"I knew it!" trumpted Pac-Man. "Or I thought I knew it. I thought I heard something in the way they talked."

"I guess I…" Junior turned side to side, not quite making eye contact. "I know I'm supposed to be afraid of ghosts, but there was just something in her I liked."

"She was created for you," said Inky, suddenly nearby. "She is the daughter of Blinky and Sue… but she was created for you." Junior turned to regard him in fear.

"As my enemy?" he asked.

"As your reward," said Inky.

"Did you know?" asked Ms. Pac-Man.

Inky nodded slowly. "Would you have rather I revealed the secret?"

Ms. Pac-Man thought back. She laughed. She looked back on the situation, on the surprise, on the beauty she'd seen just moments before. "No. No, I wouldn't have. Thank you, Inky."

"But… why doesn't she attack us?" asked Pac-Man.

"She does not want to," said Inky. "Even less than I do. To kill is not in her nature. Yet Blinky could not love a daughter who would not fight. When he learned it, he would not treat her as his child."

"I see," said Ms. Pac-Man. "And Sue?"

Inky descended slightly. "Sue adored her. To my knowledge, she still does."

The two hostile ghosts still hadn't emerged from the complex. She could only guess they'd given up and had decided to take their time. Or perhaps they were arguing. "Created as a reward," she reflected. "Amazing." Like a living toy, a living piece of fruit? Or… like herself? She couldn't help but recall how she was created for her husband, at the beginning.

"She's great, Mom," announced Junior. "I couldn't have asked for more!"

Ms. Pac-Man was shocked, and let it show. She had been so certain that her relationship with Inky had been illicit… even perverse. Yet now, it transpired that whatever forces until recently guided their lives had… not only condoned such a relationship, but… had directly caused one to be. She felt like she could float.

Pac-Man beamed, approaching. "I'm proud of you for keeping the secret, son."

"You are? Really?"

"Of course. If you'd told us too soon… why, we wouldn't have allowed it! We'd have been splintered." He glanced at Ms. Pac-Man. "Even more than…" A shadow of shame crossed over his features.

"Even more than we already are?" she asked gently.

He nodded. "We never could've worked together to destroy… the other one, if we'd been fighting."

Ms. Pac-Man gave him a look, as did Inky. "The other one?" She was offended that he hadn't used his name.

"Pinky," said Pac-Man with effort. Yes… I can remember his name when I try. Getting rid of him was… monumental! And Junior knew that." Yum-Yum approached him again, and the two frolicked as Pac-Man watched. "What a great little guy." He sounded choked up.

It was a strange moment. Ms. Pac-Man turned to Inky, as if for counsel. He gave her only his most characteristic look: one of deep longing and profound will. Then he looked toward Pac-Man, his one-time adversary.

Ms. Pac-Man went to him. "Dearie?"

"Pepper?" Hope was building behind his mask; true optimism bubbled beyond the optimistic veneer.

She shook in the negative. His face fell.

"You saved me," she said softly. "And you left your place… I know how you loved the games. And now… you're so accepting. Of the ghosts as allies… of Junior…"

He nodded, a shadow coming over him, as if he couldn't believe it either.

"What I mean to say is… right now, I don't hate you anymore." She met his eyes with a cautionary look. "I may tomorrow."

"But why?" he asked.

She sighed. "I, too, have waited until the time seemed right. Darling…"

Now his expression was perplexed. "What do you mean, Pepper?"

She closed her eyes, enjoying one last moment of secrecy. When she opened them, she saw her husband watching her more closely, more carefully, than she could ever remember. She did not look away.

"Darling… I'm in love with Inky. I have been for some time."

His whole body was so radiantly, simply yellow. Like hers, but unadorned. He gaped, and in the tiny rotation of his sphere on its axis, the angle of his gape, she saw betrayal, confusion, appreciation, sadness. Adoration.

"Is this why…?"

"No. Our troubles came first. Inky came after."

He exhaled, tilting forward. "I'm sorry, Pepper."

"You don't have to be. But I appreciate it just the same."

She never told him that she, too, was sorry.

The remaining hostiles took their time in leaving the complex. The new allies fled to the Pac family home and watched Blinky and Sue mill at a distance. It seemed they had no further interest in pursuing their enemies… for now. And so the five of them filled the rooms and rested, and talked. And wondered about the future.

As if from nowhere, her son was now her knowing confidant. They had had the same experience, more or less, and were able to share thoughts on the possible impossibility of loving a ghost. How could he remain a generation beneath her when he'd been just as surprised, just as lovelorn, just as torn by his secret? They spoke often now, in a sense of wonder, as if they were simultaneously admiring the same display on which something amazing was happening. Yum-Yum spoke rarely, but when she did, her beauty was evident. Ms. Pac-Man could understand how her son had fallen for her.

The one thing he regretted was her regret too: the destruction of Pinky. It was Pac-Man's greatest triumph; for the others, it was a source of pain. Ms. Pac-Man could not remember what he had been like. She felt they could have withstood his attacks, and the world had been richer for him. One day she asked Inky about it, and he had given an ethereal shrug. "Pinky was my brother. I will always feel his loss. There is nothing we can do."

"And Blinky. Sue," she asked. "You aren't their friend anymore. Do you miss them?"

"They are still here," he replied. "So I do not."

"If they were gone…?"

He floated close to her and gave a minuscule bow. "Forgive me. If they were to ask once more for my friendship, I would give it to them."

A wave of wonder washed over her, leaving her on the verge of tears. "Are you so forgiving?" she asked.

"It isn't that."

"Then what is it?"

"They are my family." He hovered placidly. "They are your enemies, and that will not change, but I must still love them… even as I continue to love you." He paused. "As for your part…"

She looked into his eyes. "Yes?"

"You must learn to accept this."

Ms. Pac-Man cried. She dried her tears, though, and held herself straight. "Do you know what that sounds like to me?"

"No… what?" asked Inky.

She took a peaceful breath and smiled. "A new project."

Pac-Man accepted things almost at once, surprising everyone. The idea of receiving help from a former enemy had made something click in him; now he embraced the idea of having ghosts for friends. When he wrangled with Sue and Blinky in times to come, he even teased them about the idea. "When are we going to put our differences aside and get along?" he'd quip while turning a corner or approaching a power pellet. After all, his wife had been awestruck by something as simple as a ghost continuing to peer at her while he moved away. Ghosts actually being nice? That was like a shining spike through the walls of the world. Things would shake. Things would fall.

He was the one left alone, while everyone else was coupled off. Pac-Man, the star of the show, had every reason to feel lonely in the end, yet somehow it didn't bother him. He was married to justice, Ms. Pac-Man took to saying. He was the soul of their world, neglected though it might be, and that fact fueled him. He spent his weeks developing a new moral compass so that he could use it to lead his family.

And then, one day, he felt himself glowing. The others could see it—Pac-Man was in the midst of a searing blue-white column from on high. They hadn't thought it was possible anymore, but the truth was clear: he was being summoned. He had abandoned his last quest, yet somehow, he was still being called to another.

"Inky," Ms. Pac-Man whispered. "Your theory… was it wrong?"

Their goodbyes said, the others watched as Pac-Man rose spinning through the column to places unknown. The boost would surely disorient him, but no doubt he would rediscover his bearings wherever he wound up. Ms. Pac-Man did not doubt she would see him again.

"Perhaps," said Inky, peering upward.

"But how? The rules have changed… it feels different than it used to."

"For you and me, yes. He never reported feeling that way. Perhaps your namesake never truly left the spotlight."

"But he abandoned Pac-Land," she argued.

"Yet his reason was heroic," Inky replied. "He left to save you. For all we know, that may make all the difference."

Ms. Pac-Man swallowed, though her mouth was empty. "That… seems altogether plausible. What is his life, if not heroism? What else could his destiny be?"

"Your son left for the same reason. If the father is unblemished, so may be the son."

Ms. Pac-Man beamed. She felt no shame in the notion that they would be called for adventures again, yet she would never be. The world she knew was adventure enough.

"How about you?" she asked. "Did you come to rescue me from Sue?"

Inky shook slowly, side to side. "From loneliness."

She regarded him tenderly. "Does that count as heroism?"

He looked up hopefully. He dared no answer, and Ms. Pac-Man dared not speculate.

Pac-Man did come back, months later. He showed up humming a sweet tune and kissed his erstwhile wife on the cheek, and she spun to face him, smiling. Then they gathered together in the nursery and fitted it up as a theater in which he could tell his story. Even Blinky and Sue watched through the entranceways, milling quietly. They had not been called to the new quest: Pac-Man's tale described a colorful and fascinating world filled with new challenges and new villains.

From then on, whenever Pac-Man was called to further glory, he would hum his happy tune as he made the rounds saying goodbye. On those rare cases when Junior was called, he would whistle his own tune. And when both heroes were back in their old world—all of which they now considered equally their home—everyone would celebrate. Blinky and Sue never made friends with the rest, and while they did not chase the Pacs constantly, they never gave up their ambition to catch and destroy them. Yet in their way, they too were part of the celebration.

As for Inky and Ms. Pac-Man, they made good on all the promises they'd made and more. Their very first physical contact as lovers made it clear how things would proceed.

The first time they embraced—with the help of a power pellet, of course—it was as if Inky had been so struck by the force of Ms. Pac-Man's love that he simply shriveled away into nothing. His gift was to make it seem perfectly good and natural that this should happen.

Whenever he had been eaten by Ms. Pac-Man or one of her family in the past, Inky's eyes had immediately set out for Central Control, seeking renewal. This had happened thousands of times. But this time, they stayed. Ms. Pac-Man was trailed by the silent, floating eyes, watching her lovingly. And this little devotion, this little surprise moved her. She loved the fact that after being followed around several bends, she had to remind him, gently, to go and rebuild himself. When he was whole again, she told him in no uncertain terms how much of a difference this little deviation made. And then, of course, they wanted to embrace again to celebrate.

In the end, Inky turned out to be a simple being. But when he existed only in his eyes, after being swallowed up, he was simplest of all. At those times, he was a being of pure admiration, and Ms. Pac-Man loved him.

Ecstasy is a word for great happiness whose root means "astonished displacement," a phrase that perfectly described Inky's way, after being swallowed, of being concentrated into two constant points of apperception. After many such encounters, he came to be so good at embodying this unique experience that the two lovers found they needed never lament their inability to touch under normal circumstances. Rather, they laughed about it, calling it their 'little difficulty'. They rationed their power pellets wisely, and by using them only on special occasions and relishing both their anticipation and their memory, they found that they were never in short supply.

Inky's enamored withdrawal into his eyes became the soul of their relationship. He learned to withdraw with skill and with passion. For Ms. Pac-Man's part, she learned to chase him, to adore him, to tease and to care for him, including in that simplified form. She spent much of her time with him, and when she was not with him, she thought of him. And over time, when she thought of Inky, what increasingly came to her before anything else was the thought of those eyes—those steady, loving eyes.

That thought, above any other, was what brought her ecstasy.

A/N: Here I am at the culmination of something that began fourteen years ago. In a silly mood in the spring of 2005, after leaving The Lion King MUCK and before I helped found a new roleplaying venue based on the same setting (Endless Round), I decided to stretch my literary muscles by writing a short story in an even sillier setting than Disney's The Lion King: Namco's Pac-Man. I posted it on my website with creative pictures and backgrounds, and there it sat for many years until I let the website come down. My then-friend and later founder of Endless Round read it and enjoyed it, though he said some of the words I used might have been replaced with better ones—quite the understatement! It took quite a lot of revision when I finally came back to it, and even now I think my imagination of the setting is incomplete and could make better sense. But oh well, it's better to share an imperfect story than keep it secret forever!

For a version of this story with (stolen) pictures, check it out on AO3.

The Pacs will always have a labyrinth in my heart!

I'm still writing and posting my Arashi no Yoru Ni novel, Beyond the Storm—if you want more forbidden predator-prey interaction, watch the movie it's based on and then check it out. :-)

The Pacs will always have a labyrinth in my heart! Goodbye for now!

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