At fifteen years of age, Aeon was just as strong-willed as she was at 10. A fierce young woman, she was the nightmare of most tutors and the godsend to most martial arts instructors. She had assumed gymnastics and other physical arts readily, taking up masterships as quickly as she could, making a collection of belts, medals, and other such honors. Even sour Oren admitted to being impressed. Her uncle Trevor was proud, and exceedingly glad to have found an outlet into which her energies could be directed and focused. She still climbed trees, scaled walls, balanced on the stucco edges of the flat-topped capitol roof, but at least now he could feel a little better about it. She was trained; she was secure.

Her domineering nature was strong as ever, but had grown to be less annoying and more charming. If her tutors could comment on anything, it was her grace in leadership, her firm ability to direct the attentions of a room. Truth be told, Trevor didn't know where these skills were going to be of use-would she leave, get a career, a life, once she was old enough?-but he was glad that she had something.

Una, the shy and soft thirteen-year-old, quickly took to the greenhouses, and to Claudius. They were often together, hands filthy with soil, speaking in low, rushed voices. The apartment the girls shared was brimming with potted plants. Aeon often said that they needn't ever leave, they got enough fresh air from the foliage Una brought home like stray cats. She mended them, tended to their wounds, tamed them, then sent them on their way to new homes. With a true green thumb, she just had a way with the flora.

By this time Trevor had been chairman for nearly five years. His elder counterpart was living in the industrial part of Bregna. The man took up knitting, cooking, and visited very rarely. But Trevor had little time to note this- - -he suddenly found himself very, very busy.

There was, quite suddenly, little time for anything but work and papers and meetings and speeches. He made a point to always see the girls, though, dinner nearly every night, trips on the weekends. Occasionally, Aeon attended some function of state with him, dressed neatly and nicely in a modest blue dress with piles of her long, wavy hair on top of her head. Una was still too young to partake, which was a pity, as he assumed she would enjoy these galas and parties far more than her sister did.

Aeon disliked parties almost as much as she hated her thick curtain of blue-black hair. Time and time again she would insist on short, cropped styles; this was one of the only things Trevor could refuse her. He adored the raven locks. Her hair was just another reflection of Katherine. It was long, to her waist, wavy and smooth, nearly silk. One thing Trevor had picked up as their comfort around one another had increased was stroking the black satin ripples when he was pensive. This was one of those surprising things that Aeon didn't mind. She would sit stalk-still for several minutes has he tentatively began, then sink into a relaxed pose, letting herself be overcome with a dazed unwinding. Again, much like a cat. He was completely charmed with this, though he would never let her know it.

There relationship was always evolving. Trevor tried to find some balance between friend and uncle, maintaining a shred of hope that she might one day find something more in him. That she might come to him as Katherine.

It was unlikely.

But he held on to it, a small ember of glowing orange hope. Even if she never saw him as anything more than a father-figure, he was honored to know her, to have been part of her life. It was something, at least.

That was what he kept telling himself.

She was so young. At times, the fourteen years between them felt like nothing. Then, other times, he's look at her and realize just how far away she was from his perspective. He was twenty-nine. Aeon, fifteen, was still a child. And she would be for a while still. Every time this thought unsettled him. As much as Trevor enjoyed playing parental figure, he wanted more. Not in any physical sense, necessarily, but simply to connect in a manner befitting husband and wife, to be intellectually and emotionally on that level again. Una he could have as his niece or daughter, but Aeon was never destined for that. He had gone into this with a goal: making her his. And, in a way, he had. Just, not in the way he'd wanted.

Trevor-the-elder had left him the photo, in the lab beneath his quarters. Every so often, he would pull it out, letting his eyes trace the gentle curve of her neck, the slight quirk of her lips. It amazed him how every year she grew just a little more into Katherine, with absolutely no deviation from the original. Clones did that, occasionally. The eye colour would alter, someone would come out a bit shorter, or the texture of hair change. Little things. Alleles mixing things up.

But not with her. No, Aeon was an exact model.

-XXX-

When the girls were fourteen and twelve respectively, he decided it was high time to get them proper apartments. He plucked them from the nursery (which had, needless to say, adapted as they had over the years with bigger beds and furniture) to allow them a free run of the household. They had free selection of any of the staterooms or apartments. Trevor further promised to remodel any rooms of their choosing.

Una picked a series of spacious rooms that overlooked the courtyards. She requested new tiles for the bathroom, so he ordered her a flower mosaic. The walls were to be painted varying shades of green, yellow, and pink. Furniture with airy cushions and cool whites were selected. The girl was very excited with the prospect of her own room.

The elder sister selected a smaller compartment, which was tucked in the corner of the house, and had windows to both the courtyard and the city. The rooms were very light, practically filled throughout the day with brightness. Her bed was a shelf, cut into the wall, surrounded by a curtain of glass beads which tinkled faintly when brushed. For a gymnast, it was not much room, but she did not seem to mind; there were much grander, larger, nice apartments he had offered, but she refused them all. Surprising him, as always. He supposed the smallness made her feel safe.

Aeon had few requests-an armchair, some curtains, a new coat of paint, a few lamps. There was not much she needed nor wanted. She was a hall or two away from Una (close enough for safety), and miles from Oren (which was not surprising) and a stunningly close distance from Uncle Trevor. She had everything she needed.

In the process of improving the rooms, Trevor was exceptionally busy. The council was in an uproar over some city ordinance regarding the cameras, so he spent a lot of time composing letters or hosting meetings. Besides that there were always the Monicans, stirring up trouble.

He kept word of the Monicans away from his girls. No need to scare them. But he could never seal all the cracks, so a day did come when someone became curious. Unfortunately, one of those days came in the midst of the bustle of camera ordinances.

Aeon, now fifteen, had requested an audience in the middle of the day. Trevor sent Freya to fend her off, passing on a polite message that he would see to her in a few days-right now he was quite busy, thank you, and he would not be having dinner with them this week. If it was any emergency, she could see Uncle Oren (and she wouldn't, lest it was a true emergency, and even then she would probably much rather wait her other uncle out).

A day passed, and then he found her in his bedroom.

It was late. He'd just finished and excruciatingly dull supper with Councilman Rahana (who was about Trevor-the-elder's age, and twice as stern). When arriving at his apartments to find the lights on he thought nothing of it-a maid coming and going in the night was not unusual-and he crossed to the small bar against the wall, pouring himself water from the carafe. Then he went to his closet, set about undressing, when he heard a small sound.

Whipping around, he scanned the room, gaze closing in on the figure sitting in the shadows, legs curled in on the bench that lined the windows, eyes flickering. She had been asleep, waiting up for him. Trevor stared, uncertain. As Aeon stretched he continued to remove his jacket and shoes, half-facing her, but left on his trousers and shirt.

Quiet, he crossed the room. "Are you alright?"

Weary, the teenager nodded.

"Very well, may I?" he gestured to his attire. Again she nodded. He returned to the closet and rustled about for a while, selecting a pair of simple cotton drawstring pants, and a loose silk button-down. When he reentered, dressed comfortably, Aeon was sitting up properly.

She examined the room. He remembered then that she had never actually been in his bedroom before. The warm wood tones, the rice-paper lanterns, large circular windows with thin shutters, the Japanese crane mural against the circular wall, it was all new to her. She seemed to absorb the scene. Trevor was silent, allowing her time while he observed her.

He had not the slightest clue why she came to him. After sometime, he spoke softly. "What is it, Aeon?"

The girl glanced up, eyes focusing swiftly. "I…can we go for a walk? Please?"

With a short nod, he entertained her request. When she rose, he noted her attire-very similar to his, a loose pair of cropped linen trousers and a pleated poet's shirt. She was barefoot, and stepped lightly, weaving her stride. They moved from his room to the balcony walkway over the pool. Almost a moat, it circled his separated apartment. Lily pads floated on the glassy-smooth surface. But no flowers. It wasn't in season.

For a while they walked quietly, the sweet evening breeze their only other companion. Trevor did not dare speak, only braved a glance every so often. Finally his young charge began.

"I've been trying to see you for a few days."

"I know."

"We've missed you," she continued. "Una especially."

This was clearly a lie. Out of the brothers, Una preferred Oren. He supposed they could sympathize, being the younger siblings to two powerful forces such as Aeon and himself.

"I am sorry, Aeon. You know my work occupies much of my time. I would be present more, if I had the ability."

She said, disgruntled, "You work too much."

"It's a hazard of the job." He replied, amused. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

There was a pause. "Last week we went to the marketplace with Nanny and Claudius," this was nothing new, they often visited market, or the parks. "And there were people talking. About you."

He had always dreaded this; politics. Even though they lived in the capitol, the girls had been heavily shielded from the toils of politics. Trevor always feared their exposure outside of the capitol walls to the philosophies of those less inclined toward governmental control. He did not want to sway the girls from the Bregna way of life, but neither did he wish to keep them under any illusions. The chairman still held out hope of curing the infertility, returning society to its natural course.

"And what did they say?" he asked cautiously.

Aeon would not meet his eye. "Things I don't want to think about. People disappearing…medical tests…and…and…" she took a breath. "What are Monicans?"

The chairman let the question hang, heavy, in the air as he composed himself, closing his eyes and drawing in strength. Aeon waited.

"Monicans are a rebellious fraction of Bregna. They do not believe in our legitimacy as a governmental organization, yet they take advantage of all we offer. They would see us burned or driven out, and then they would dissolve the organization, the city, and have us all live out there," he indicated the world that lay beyond Bregna's white walls. "To starve and die, rather than live under the rule of anyone. Those are the Monicans. They oppose me, us, and would stop at nothing to see us obliterated."

"But why?" Aeon asked softly.

Trevor shrugged loosely, leaning against one column, sighing. "Who knows? Why does anyone rebel. They don't like the way this city is run, but they will not run for council, nor will they speak up, face-to-face. They hide in the shadows, sabotage our communications and our constructions, cowards that they are."

"And the tests? The people vanishing?"

Again he sighed. "We can never live in a perfect world, Aeon. Crime still occurs. There will be runaways. People still get sick, we still need to help them. Progress can only occur if it is wanted. Tests must happen."

She nodded slowly, considering. "Is that why they're mad? Why they hate you?"

"I cannot say. It could be part of it. But to know the answer to that you would have to speak to a Monican. And they are not easy to find."

"Are you trying to find them?" Aeon tilted her head.

"Yes," he said. "In a way."

They walked on. Aeon musing, Trevor watching the skies.

He wanted to know what was running through her head. If he could have any wish granted (save the return of his wife), he would ask to know her thoughts. If only to see what she thought of the situation.

Abruptly, Aeon spoke again. "I've been having dreams."

"Oh?" This was not surprising; everyone in Bregna had nighttime visions of their lives before. Even he. "What of?"

"Me," she whispered. "I'm older. A lot older. And, it's…it's like…everything is so blurry. There is a figure. Someone I want to see. And I keep running and running, trying to get to them but every time...I fail."

He listened politely, then suggested a blend of chamomile before bed. "Which is where you ought to be now."

Aeon blinked. "Must I? I'd much rather stay here, talking to you."

The chuckle was forced. "No, my dear, you have your own bed. It shall be far more comfortable in your room-"

"Why can't I just sleep in here with you?"

He froze. The request was made innocently enough. But the implications….if anyone were to know….

"Bed, Aeon," he said firmly. "I'll see you in the morning."

"For breakfast?"

Trevor relaxed slightly. "Yes. Of course."

With that, she departed. Content in his shielding of her honor, Trevor went to bed, sinking into the cool pillows, thankful of his second chances, and trying very, very hard not to think of her.