Papa 2

Author Note: Thank you, Guest, for the super sweet reivew :) It means a lot to me, and now that I have read "The Rise of Nine", I decided to add a couple more little one-shots that take place during/after that book )


Papa is dead.

Papa is dead.

The words don't taste right when I mumble them to myself, and they don't roll around in my head smoothly. It doesn't sound right, and the reality of seeing him lying so broken crushes my soul inside.

Marina can't fix him.

I am angry, but I know it's true as I sob and beg him to come back, to let her save him. I can't lose him, not now. But deep inside, I know the timing is almost perfect. I am with the other Numbers, and now we will all fight to return home to Lorien.

But I don't want him to go.

But he has already.


I feel stupid.

I know Marina is the least knowledgable of all of us, bless her heart, and I know Eight's very confident and attractive, but sometimes he thinks without doing. But I'm the youngest Loric alive, and I wasn't even supposed to be around if it wasn't for my real Papa.

Papa.

For some reason, when Crayton was around, I felt more comfortable and confident about myself. I think it was because I always knew he'd back me up, that he'd always be on my side. And while I know that Marina is kind of taking his place now in this role, she is still very different than him. Nobody can truly replace him, and I know niether of them have time for it any more than somehow like Six does.

We have to defeat the Mogodorians.

They have more important things to worry about than an eleven-year-old girl who is still broken-hearted over the loss of both of her Papas.

I just don't understand why they still care so much.


When I throw the red stone, I know that I am going to be hit. I know that there is a very real chance that I might not surrvive a blast from the enemy, much less any sword slash.

I know the human knows that, too.

But we are brave, we are strong, and we know we have to help.

We want to help.

Even as I am hit, I have a feeling that Papa would be very proud of me.


John just saved our lives.

Something about that act of caringness from a fellow Number makes me more comfortable. Four reminds me a little of Papa, with his smartness and bravery. I hope we continue to get along; all of us. We're all a team now, and when we meet up with Number Five, we'll all be unfeatable.

I think I'm finally letting Papa go, even though he will forever remain in my heart.

Marina takes my hand, and I reach out to touch John's wrist, smiling my gratefulness to him. It's time for us to flee before the building collaspes, but I'm okay with that. I am sure that we're all going to surrvive this, even with the fortold prophecy of what may or may not happen to Eight. All I know is that we all surrvived that battle, and we can surrvive the biggest one.

And then we can go home, because we are the Garde.

And the Garde is forever.


"Goodnight, Papa," I whisper to myself as I crawl onto the mattress, Marina and Six already fast asleep as the others asleep out across the hotel already. I decided to pray before I dozed off myself, and now I don't regret it.

I feel like Crayton's spirit is still with me now, and that gives me even more hope, joy, and detirmination.

"I love you," I whisper out of the window, "and I promise: I will make you proud."