A/N: Here's that promised epilogue! Once again, thanks everyone who stayed with this fic, it means so much to me.

Disclaimer: Our only God, Richard O'Brien, owns all of this. Except Rose-y. She's a figment of my crazed imagination.

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In a late and dark November evening, as the sky and earth were shaking from the thunder and soaking from the rain, velvet darkness surrounded the peculiar castle just outside of Denton, USA. A closer look to it revealed an atmosphere, which could be described in a single word. Creepy.

Gargoyles were lined up on the roof, a white flag flapping from the edge of the highest tower. It had a weird and strange symbol that no human had ever seen before. The smell of old, ancient and, somehow, even foreign was literally in the air, you felt as if you've just opened your closet door and stepped into an alternate universe, where it's pretty normal for people to live in castles with enormous glass domes over them.

Taking a closer look inside doesn't help us to think any different. Cobwebs were hanging from the most corners, a dim light coming from the lit candelabras, only the silent cracking of candles and smell of wax breaking the heavy silence. Stuffed animals were hanging from literally everywhere – mostly deer, moose and eagles, some of them even standing in walkways and in your way, where it would be sure that you are to bump into at least one of them and wake someone up.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the castle was creepily quiet. Sleep was lingering in the air, a relaxed atmosphere, which still caused you to be vigilant. The clock on the wall hit its 12th mark, there was this feeling that the eyes of the stuffed creatures were stari –

'Weeeeahhhhhhhhhhhh!' a sudden cry broke the silence. It was followed by a sigh and a female voice, bearing a strong yet unfamiliar accent, exclaimed:

'Your turn, Riff.'

:::

Magenta turned on the other side, trying to get her tired eyes to close even if for a minute. It had been an uneasy night. This was the third time Rose had woken up – apparently, she was experiencing stomach ache, which, Frank had said after Magenta's initial shock, had appeared to be normal for babies her age. It'd go away after a few months, he had said.

Only that Magenta didn't know if she was going to make it that long. She and Riff hadn't had a decent night's sleep for about a year now. It was all two or three hours of stolen rest, both of them cherishing the silence of being wrapped in each other, before the well-known sounds of a tiny screechy voice came from the room next to theirs and one of them had to get up and calm the little girl down, before it had woken some of the others.

Rose, it seemed, was afraid of the dark, so they had to buy her a nightstand with a lamp. Her hair was growing red like a forest fire, just like her mother's, but her eyes remained steadily blue, ever since the day she was born. Every time Magenta looked at her daughter, she saw Riff's eyes, a hint of her own nose and her brother's twitchy smile. It was as if their little girl had taken their features and combined them in the most perfect way to create a masterpiece. A little wonder. Their little wonder.

Magenta turned around in her bed a little more, listening to the muffled sound of Riff's voice from the other room and hearing Rose's laughter when he tickled her or made a funny face at her. Magenta smiled as she imagined the scene. The little girl had taken a steady place in her brother's heart – he was downright addicted to her. Sometimes, she'd just catch him observing her, while she was sleeping, a lazy finger trailing down the little cheek. Magenta would come up behind him and wrap her hands around his waist, he'd turn to her, place a soft, gentle and loving kiss on her lips and in his eyes she saw warmth, that heated with the intensity with a thousand suns.

After a few more struggling with the sheets, Magenta sighed, knowing it was pointless for her to even try to get any sleep. She got to the other room, silent like a ghost in her black dress. Voices weren't heard behind the doors anymore, so she assumed that Rose was already asleep. Silently opening the door to the nursery, she faced something different to her initial expectations, though. Yes, the baby was sleeping soundly, but not in its crib, not even close to it. Instead, Rose was situated comfortably on Riff's chest, both of them having dozed off at the couch near the crib. Her daughter's mouth was slightly hanging, almost mimicking her brother's sleeping face. This mage Magenta stuff a chuckle, she picked up the blanket from the crib, covering them both with it, careful not to wake them up. The movement made Riff stir though and he soon opened his eyes, blue orbs looking around confused, staring first at the sleeping little bundle on his chest, then at Magenta. He smiled.

'Hello.'

'Hello,' she whispered, a smile gracing her lips. 'apparently, Rose was the one who lulled you into sleep.'

'The battle wasn't even. She had an advantage.'

'Of what, being just over six months old?'

'Never underestimate the enemy,' Riff said, stifling a yawn 'Rose has an undeniably successful tactic of sleeping more than I do and thus making me more vulnerable to her attacks.'

'I'm sure she pretty much knocked you out' she smiled at him and kissed his forehead. 'come on, let's get her to bed.'

She lifted her off Riff careful not to wake her up, but it appeared that Rose was completely drained, as she was sleeping soundly. Magenta placed her into the crib, the moon glow making her seem like an angel in the night. She found out that this was absolutely the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her entire life.

Warm hands found their way to her shoulders and sensual lips touched the cold skin of her neck. She shivered in delight.

'You know,' her brother said in between kisses 'it makes me wonder, what did I even do to deserve all this?'

'All of what?'

'You. Her. Us. Family.' He shrugged. 'I must be hell of a lucky guy.'

'You're lucky,' she turned around and kissed him. 'She's lucky. I'm lucky. We're all lucky.'

Deep laughter echoed in his throat, as he took her hand and with one last glance of their daughter, they went off.

Probably they would wake up at least two more times tonight. After two days, Rose would say her first word – 'ankie'. Frank would spend long hours of trying to convince them that it was actually 'Frankie', but Magenta would be pretty sure her daughter had wanted a hankie, because she would have a running nose. Her second word would come a few months after that – 'da'ie', she would mumble, while looking at the door, through which Riff had left through to go work in the lab, sad little hands hanging in the air. Magenta would think she might cry at this, and she secretly did, actually. But she would never tell Riff that he won their little bet. Of course, the same night, Rose would say it again, when she saw her father come back to her, light gleaming in the little eyes. 'Ma'ie' would come along later as well.

There was a lot to come. A lot for Rose to be, to have, to see..

And Magenta was right. They were indeed very lucky to have each other, it was their way of surviving. Otherwise, they'd all be lost.