"Do you promise you'll come back?"

He smiled serenely, sunshine glinting off of his brown eyes, reflecting the gold that was hidden there as well.

"Of course. I've always returned, haven't I?"

-x-

Thirty-five years, she thought to herself, smiling at the breeze ruffling her hair ever so slightly. It had been thirty-five long years since she had heard even a whisper of her best friend. She wasn't stupid, no; she knew he had a dangerous job. And seeing as how he had found her in one of the less-pleasant areas of China, one riddled with danger, she would have been ignorant to not have guessed. But it was his story to tell, and so she had never pressed.

Of course, he had always come back before. Before he started to be gone longer and longer, this look in his eyes of satisfaction and such pride. He had briefly told her, in more elegant words, that he had found a group of people to excel with. That they helped each other reach their full potential, that before this, every job had been simple, easy, and boring.

So, yes of course she was happy for him, even as she felt her heart drop with this news. This meant danger, danger, danger, and she just wanted to continue to enjoy their days around this little home he had brought her to.

It was a simple home.

There was no electricity or running water. The house was lit by candle or sun, and each morning four buckets of water from the well at the bottom of the hill were drawn. A stream nearby turned into a small waterfall that pooled into a small lake, perfect for bathing. There was a garden behind the house, a simple one, full of fruits and vegetables and herbs. It wasn't much; but it was home.

Her mind, as it sometimes did, went to darker places…

She was eight when he had found her, and he had been seventeen. She could still remember his black hair pulled back into a thin braid and his kind, warm brown eyes staring down at her. His lips tugged up into a half-hearted smile, but she could see and feel the pain in his eyes. Was it pain at seeing someone like this? Surely, in this area, he had seen the other children like her; cold, hungry, neglected, hurt, abused, dead.

There was no will left to live in her anymore. The local wars had killed her parents, she assumed, because the alternative of being abandoned was much worse. Her body was littered with scars and her mind had collected its fair share as well.

Nights of men luring her in with the promise of safety and food. Nights of men becoming drunk after their promise of safety. Nights of men touching her bare skin, of doing more than touching, of hurting her over and over before the next and the nextandthenext—

"What's your name?" The man asked, crouching down in front of her, his smile never wavering.

"I dun 'ave one." Was the reply, her voice cracked from lack of water, after using it raw screaming last night in the stables behind the bar—

He seemed to ponder for a moment, "Can I give you one?"

She cleared her throat, speaking clearer now, but no real effort, "Does it matter?" She looked up at him, her eyes screaming helpmeimbroken, "Call me what will please you tonight, after you tell me how very safe I will be and the alcohol consumes you, because you won't remember a name I give you as you throw me aro-"

She stopped abruptly as she was pulled into his arms. Into a hug. He gently set her on her feet, "Please, say no more." His eyes seemed to burn with hurt and compassion for her, "If you would like a place to stay, please follow me. I will not force you into coming with me, but I can promise, you will be safe and I will never lay a hand on you." He gave a small pat to her head, still smiling, "Nor will I let anyone touch you so long as you are with me. My name is Fon."

He started walking away, down the alleyway. Her pale grey eyes filled with tears at the heartfelt hug. The first one she had ever had, one she had always wanted as she watched better-off children go with their parents, warning them to not look at a stray like her. Someone broken. And despite how many empty promises men had made her, despite so much betrayal and anguish and hardship in her life that told her to never trust again—

Shereallywantedtotrustsomeone.

Shewantedtoberight.

Shewantedtobesafe.

With clumsy steps at first, her feet bloody and broken from some glass in the alleyway, she headed after Fon. Her long, greasy brown-black hair barely moved from being matted, as she ran, struggling to catch up. Her naivety and still-somewhat innocent belief that one day the promise would be real. And as Fon turned the corner and ohnohedisappearedwillhestillbethere—

"Zhen." Came his voice, he was still there, right in front of her.

She blinked in confusion.

"You do not have a name, yes? I will give you one, then." Fon smiled and ruffled her hair, "Zhen is appropriate."

And as he turned and walked away, looking back to make sure she was there, she cried silently for Zhen did not fit her at all; one so tarnished and worn and destroyed did not have the right to a name such as Zhen. Zhen was a name fit for a princess. She was neither precious nor pure. But he saw fit to call her that anyways. And her heart, for the first time in many years, felt a little less cold.

-x-

Zhen smiled as she opened her grey eyes against the sun. She watched as it meandered its way towards the horizon to signify today's end. Of course, after she had arrived there had been many more memories. Learning to speak and write properly. Learning self-worth. Learning that nothing had been her fault when really, that's all it had ever felt like to her. Fon had taught her to live from the Earth, and using only what's needed. He had taught her many life lessons and inspired her to think for herself and draw conclusions.

At first he was always there. Zhen had many nightmares after first retreating to this home in the wilderness. Nightmares of nameless faces grabbing her, touching her again…and Fon was always there to hold her and wipe away her tears. At night, Lichie, Fon's monkey (he had clarified that he wasn't a pet, but a friend) would sleep on my bed. I hadn't noticed him at first, until one day he was just on Fon's shoulder. At my question, he said Lichie did as he liked. As Zhen grew older, they occurred less, and Fon began to leave for a day or two at time, for his job.

As Zhen grew older still, Fon would be gone for weeks or a month at a time. And he always came back. Sometimes, he was a little worn with a couple of bruises and cuts (which she would help him to the best of her ability with) but there. And then came that fated day, when he left for a mission with these comrades of his, and just…never returned. She had been fourteen when he left (but he had been her world.)

And so, here she stood, on the grounds that her rescuer had brought her to when she was eight. At the age of 49 (was she really so old?) she continued to tend to their home. Zhen refused to call it hers alone, as Fon had always come back when he said he would. It didn't matter, to her, how long she waited. His home would be ready when he came back to it.

Their home had withstood storms (which she had dutifully repaired it, what, six, seven, eight times now) and attempted looters who wandered too far and tried to ransack it (she had driven them off with the little martial arts Fon had taught her, he was knowledgeable about those things, more so than he let on she knew.) There were nights so cold she thought she would freeze as she nestled before the fire, and nights so hot she didn't risk a candle in the dark.

The sun finally sunk below the horizon and she smiled as a small red panda she had taken in during a cold winter made its way to her. Zhen named him Xiang, as he had been lucky she had seen him huddled against a tree during a snowstorm, no signs of a mother around. Like her. So she took him in, as Fon had taken her in, the never ending cycle.

As he approached she finished her oolong tea (Fon's favorite, which she drank because it reminded her of him) and turned around to head back to her home. Xiang weaved between her legs carelessly, much like a cat she had had a few years back who had never returned (her name had been Shu and she really had been the most gentle animal.) Zhen absentmindedly reached down to stroke the red panda tenderly, a rueful smile on her face.

"Yes, Xiang, you will eat soon. If you had your way, you'd be fat though."

Xiang made a noise of contentment and headed into the home first. Zhen sighed slightly, entering the home through the small wooden door before shutting it, letting the last little bit of sun rays light the home as she lit some candles. She'd have to find an empty bee hive again soon and melt the wax for more candles. It'd do now to stock up for the coming winter. The chill from the north was enough for her to start preparing for what may or may not be a harsh winter.

Her feet brushed up some of the dust from the dirt packed floor, travelling to the fire that was cooking tonight's dinner. She removed several pieces of the fish from the pot and put them on a clay dish for Xiang who dug in immediately. Then she ladled the rest into her bowl and sat next to Xiang and ate. Zhen was careful to only make enough for them to be full, never leaving any left over as it would spoil by morning.

When dinner was done (Xiang nestled in by the fire after a rather cute yawn) and the dishes were cleaned in the last of the water from the day (she now only required two buckets from the well) Zhen finally wandered into a small room on the side, the bamboo-made curtain clacking gently. Her window was open, as she was accustomed to, and she lay down on a well-used futon (one of the only things herself and Fon had not made themselves.)

There were only three rooms to the house; the main one, with storage for dried herbs and meats and jarred vegetables and fruits as well as the fire, and two bedrooms. She never went into Fon's room, even after he left. It was a mystery to her, but she didn't mind.

For Fon, she didn't mind anything.

-x-

And 35 years of waiting turned into 41 years and suddenly, Zhen was 55. She wasn't so young anymore, and her delusions of Fon returning started to fade. It would still be their home, but with the dangerous job he seemed to have, she didn't know if even he would be gone this long. She didn't think he'd want to be gone this long.

It was getting bad around the Provence she lived in. Wars were breaking out between gangs more fiercely than before. It was getting colder, and since the weather change, she'd already scared off ten different looters. Xiang was getting older and less mobile, she thought sadly, and gave him a small pat to the head, scratching behind his ears, as she picked up her buckets and made her way down the hill to the well.

On her way she picked some mint leaves and some other herbs she'd need soon. She'd dry them over the fire for tonight's meal, and the smell would be heavenly. It took more effort to get down the hill now, too. And more effort, still, to draw up water for the two buckets. But she managed, as she always did, and turned around before feeling…wrong. Something was wrong. Even in her older age, she picked up the buckets and nearly ran up the hill in a burst of adrenaline she hadn't felt in a long time. Not even when scaring off looters. Or bears.

As she was about to crest the hill, she smelt it. The smell of fire. Her fears were confirmed when she reached the top and dropped the buckets. They tumbled and spilt all their water. She belatedly realized that there were people running away from the scene, and her heart dropped. It was arson. All of her hard work (for what else could forty-one years be, besides hard work) was going up in flames. Zhen ran inside to try and save Xiang, the only other being on this Earth that mattered to her, but the smoke and flames were too all consuming for her to get in far enough.

With a strangled cry of anguish, Zhen fled the house and tripped, falling to the ground. She simply lay there, sobbing into her arms. Where would she go? How would she go on? She suddenly felt like she was eight again; lost in a world full of no one who cared. Her only friend was long gone, and her more recent companion…she didn't want to think about Xiang.

Without really any feeling at all, Zhen sat up and watched her home of forty-seven years burn. She would starve and freeze in the coming winter, she was sure, it was already very cold every night; cold enough to huddle with Xiang by the fire for additional warmth. There was nowhere to store food, or for protection from snow. What couldn't be destroyed by fire, Zhen morbidly noticed, had been smashed in by a weapon of some sort, like hammers or bricks.

In less than ten minutes, Zhen's home was gone.

It seemed like a life time that she stared into the smoldering remains.

-x-

It was around midday that Zhen finally had the strength to get up. She went inside to find what remained of Xiang, to bury him properly. Her tears were long gone. There was no sign of him, and her frustration returned. Couldn't she even give her companion a proper rest? Couldn't she even get that one, small amount of rest?

After a ten minute rummage through the rubble to salvage anything Zhen felt like crying again as she gave up, her shoulders slumping. She turned towards where the front door had been and stopped short, a choked gasp escaping her lungs,

"You!" Her voice shook with a slight anger she didn't know she was capable of as she stared down the person in front of her. Anger grabbed hold as she swiftly made her way out the door, nearly running at the person who simply stood there.

"You…you monster! How could you?!" Tears flowed freely from her eyes, recognizing the man in front of her. The man who had left her for forty-one years of her life suddenly appeared when the home she had tended to so dutifully for him, had burned.

"I-I've waited for forty-one years. I tended to this home day after day, never knowing if you would come back, and just as I lose everything again, you show up. H-how could you, Fon?! Do you know how long I waited; acting like you'd be back every day? Wondering if maybe you were hurt somewhere and dying? That maybe this was all for nothing?!" Forty-one years of pent up emotions were finally released. Zhen's small, starting to wrinkle hands beat on his chest weakly as Fon stood there, not saying anything.

"Say something, dammit!" She screamed weakly, only to be pulled into a hug, "L-let go! Don't touch me, you-!"

"Zhen?" His quiet, unchanged voice murmured softly into her hair, "Is it really you? You have waited so long, tending this house, instead of abandoning it for the city?"

"What did you think I'd do?! I-It was supposed to be another j-job of yours. You never came back…" Zhen's voice faded into a quiet, accusing, hurt voice, "you never came back, Fon."

He pulled away and looked at Zhen, really looked at her. Fon looked the same as he had when he left. Lichie was even on his shoulder, happy as ever. And that brought thoughts of Xiang to Zhen, but her eyes were really dry this time.

Fon smiled at her, "You're beautiful, Zhen."

She weakly shoved him away, "I'm old, Fon. Old and worn down."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

They stood in silence until Fon looked sharply over Zhen's shoulder. She whirled around and almost cried again. Xiang came out of the forest, looking unharmed. Zhen dropped to her knees and scooped the red panda into her arms, hugging him tightly, and murmuring into his neck.

"I'm going to tell you everything, Zhen. I should have from the beginning. If when I'm done, you want somewhere to go far away from me, I will understand and help you." Came Fon's quiet voice above her.

"I waited forty-one years for you, Fon. I'm not leaving now." She smiled weakly at him and motioned to the house, "But what about this? Our home?"

Fon seemed momentarily stunned and quietly said, "Our home?"

Zhen waited.

"We'll rebuild it together, Zhen."

-x-

A/N: I don't know where this came from. Probably because I never see FonOC and I want to explore Arcobaleno relationships. They all would've had one previous to turning (I strongly ship RebornLuce…) in some way. Brothers, sisters, friends…what happened when they suddenly disappeared?

I'll probably write another one-shot for Mammon. And Skull. Oh screw it, all of them.

I'm also neck deep in a ByakuranOC that is my brain child atm. It should go better than my other story on here, which has hit a dead end after a computer crash that deleted all my work on it…ugh.

I did so much math and re-math on this to make sure the age of Zhen is right…let me know if it's not?

Thoughts?

Please review!

-AkaMizu-chan