She kissed her daughter’s forehead and flipped the light out. “Mother?” cam the little girl’s voice. “What is it, Mariemaie?” her mother questioned. “What was father like?” Lady Une sighed and sat back on the bed, stroking her daughter’s hair. Mariemaie had asked ever since Lady took her in, it seemed that no one had ever told her what her father was really like. With a sad, sad smile, she began, “Your father was the most magnificent man within the Unified Nations--Though at the time it wasn’t very unified as you well know. . .” It’s true that Mariemaie was not Lady Une’s daughter but it held no significance to either of them. Lady had taken her in as her own and Mariemaie began calling her “Mother” almost immediately. At first it pained her to be addressed as the mother of Treize’s daughter, but in time she began to adore the title as she did Mariemaie and-- “Treize,” she mumbled in the darkness of her bedroom. It had been hours since her discussion with her daughter but she found that she could not sleep. She loved Treize with her entire soul, but now he was gone; only a memory. She gave out a dry sob as she rolled onto her side, clutching her pillow to her chest. “Oh Treize,” she whispered so as not to wake the girl, “it’s been two little over two years. I don’t know how I manage without you.” She hadn’t cried since he died and she was alone in her quarters, and she wasn’t about to start now, she vowed silently. “You’ve no reason to be so upset, that story has never troubled you like this. What’s wrong with you,” she scolded, “You weren’t trained to be weak, use some of that military talent. Suck it up.” Try as she did, she could not however. The pain was unbearable, even as the raindrops softly began to patter on the window. She sighed deeply into the silence and lay listening for the longest time. She then decided to write in her journal and turned her bedside lamp on. Bringing her laptop to rest on her legs she began to expel her despair: March 29, A.C. 198 Treize has been gone for. . .so long it seems I can’t remember the last time I saw his face. I miss him now more than ever. Mariemaie is growing up so quickly I don’t know what will sustain me once she grows up and leaves me. Marie is a wonderful and very intelligent young girl. Treize would be so proud. She may have been mislead early on, and she was almost never to walk again. At least that is what the doctors had told me. She surprised everyone when she began walking again and now she is so active one would never have guessed she had once been in a wheelchair. I may not have Treize but I have his lovely daughter. . . my daughter-- There was a tap at the door that made Lady jerk upright. It was so slight that it could have been passed off as the rain, but Lady’s instincts told her differently. She reached for her gun in the bottom drawer and asked herself, “Who would be here at two in the morning?“ She turned her light out so her eyes would adjust to the dark quicker. Just in case it was some psychotic maniac. As she approached the door she saw a tall male figure. Zechs, maybe? No, she concluded. He and Noin would be in bed, and if it were that urgent they would have called first. The figure turned away and Lady decided that she wanted to know who would have the nerve to stop at the house so early--or late, if you will. She opened the door and held her gun ready as the figure turned to look at her. Her brown eyes met sad and relief-filled blue eyes, and she dropped her gun onto a table beside the door. Her eyes widened in shock as the man cleared his throat to speak. “Lady? Oh Lady, you’ve no idea. . .” he took a step forward but she took a timid step away from him. “You? Why are you here? You can’t be,” she stammered. “Lady, you’re letting cold air into the house.” Still in a state of stupor she stepped outside the door and closed it, wrapping her robe tightly around her body. Shivering, they stared at each other for what seemed like hours. He made the fist movement and stepped closer to her. “Lady,” he sighed her name breathlessly as he pressed his hand to her cheek. She could not contain her immediate reaction and raised her own hand to his face. Her touch was not quite as gentle as she smacked him with all her being. Her hand stung from the blow as she kept moving right past him and out into the rain. Tears were streaming down her face and she remembered that the cold water felt good on her overheated skin. She was heading for the rose garden and planned to stay there until she woke up.