A/N: Hey you guys! I'm here with another chapter! It's not very polished, but it should at least make sense. I've been insanely busy this past week. I explored more of why Zerubbabel is so tough, and here's what I came up with!

Chapter 6: A Late Confession

If a tree falls in a forest when no one is around to hear, does it still make a sound?

Or perhaps, if a tree falls in a forest, and hits a mime, does anyone care?

Zerubbabel certainly knew the answer to the question. Nobody cared about mimes.

As for the first, she really didn't know. All she was certain pertaining to sound was that sound was annoying. Especially when you are trying to sleep.

Snow continued to snore unequivocally. Zerubbabel wondered if she was a singer. A girl with a snore like that must have quite a set of lungs on her. I mean, she was next door and probably keeping everyone within a five-mile radius of the hotel up. Then again, Germans were likely very used to loudness. They were as a people quite abrupt themselves.

Zerubbabel rolled over again. She had been tossing and turning all night long. She should get a job as a siren, she thought as she shifted her head's placement on the pillow for what felt like the billionth time. Finally giving up, the spy sat up and placed her feet on the floor. A groan emitted from her lips as she shifted her full body weight to her feet. Insomnia was really the worst thing in the world. Even worse than zippers.

Zerubbabel stumbled through the dark room to the door. As she opened it, it creaked as though it had been out of use and care for a long period of time. Come to mention it, the entire hotel looked old. Not even vintage old, an old so ancient Zerubbabel's great-great grandparents might have visited the place. Scarlet paint adorned the high walls in the hallway. Heavy rugs blanketed the wood planks of flooring. Tables of unknown origin collected dust. Zerubbabel could've sworn the Victorian paintings hanging on the walls had had a place somewhere in her history text book. The hotel rested in all its glory, ancient yet with a certain charm, like a weathered stone castle.

Thinking she would visit the lobby and see if she could rest on the couch in there, she directed her feet in the corresponding direction. Soon, however, they rammed into something. Zerubbabel looked up. Not something, someone. She gasped as she caught sight of the elderly gentleman's pained face, when she realized she had mistakenly stepped on his toe. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, "I wasn't watching where I was going, and—"

"Now, now," the old man replied, "these toes have received many a-stepping on. Just one more can't hurt."

Zerubbabel couldn't help but smile at his kindness. The patron before her reminded her of her sweet old grandfather. When she was little, he used to pick her up, place her on his knee, and tell her stories of his adventures on the African terrain (he had made his living as an archaeologist before he retired). As she grew older, she would request her favorite stories so he would recount them in his beautiful voice. She also recalled her grandmother baking her famous chocolate chip cookies. Zerubbabel would always beg her to let her take just one as soon as they were out of the oven. Her grandmother would smile, but tell her, "If I let you eat one now, you won't have room for dinner. Now run along and play before you tempt me into giving you one." Lost in these sweet memories of her deceased grandparents, Zerubbabel did not notice that the man in front of her was trying to get her attention.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I must've dozed off," she apologized again.

"You were smiling. You must have been dreaming," he answered. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled with her.

"Yes."

"May I ask what about?"

Zerubbabel suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She wasn't in the habit of sharing her feelings with anyone, even gentle old men. Deliberating a few seconds more, she decided: "Yes. I was remembering my grandparents."

"Ah," the man replied knowingly, "Family is one of the greatest joys we have in this life. You must care for them very much."

"I did." She paused. "But they died in a housefire when I was seventeen. None of their belongings survived."

The man was silent for a moment. "I'm so very sorry," he managed.

Zerubbabel couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw tears emerging in his eyes. A stranger, crying over the sudden deaths of people he had never met?

All of a sudden, a wave of anger washed over her.

"Yes, well," she said as she moved over to continue treading a path to the lounge, "I was very devastated. I'm fine now though, so there's no need to feel sorry for me. If you'll excuse me."

The old man, however, followed her at his time-induced shuffling pace. "I assure you I am sorry for your loss. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Though it may have seemed an easy question to answer, Zerubbabel still had to ponder it. Was she really alright? Had she really gotten over her beloved grandparents' tragic death? Well, if I wasn't, how could this old man help me? He doesn't know me or what I've been through. How on earth could a total stranger help her recover?

And why was she so tempted to let him?

With that, Zerubbabel came to her decision. "Yes, I want to talk about it. But can we do it in a more private area? I don't usually pour out my soul to the whole world in public."

"Of course. The lounge should be empty right now. We can talk there."

The unlikely pair headed over to the usually busy lounge. Sure enough it was empty. Zerubbabel sat on an overstuffed couch, while the elderly man settled into a worn arm chair. "Well," he asked, "Where would you like to begin?"

As though a bomb had gone off inside of her, Zerubbabel began telling this old man her life's story. The origin of her name, her childhood memories, everything was explained to the stranger.

"I'm here now to find Indie, and I have her friend Snow with me. I've made progress, but I can't help but feel like it's hopeless. I feel like I'm searching for a needle that I'm not even sure is in the haystack."

"Indie, you said her name was?"

"Yes," answered Zerubbabel suspiciously, "Why?"

"I think I can help you."

A/N: Cliffhanger! Like I said, I was in a pretty big rush when I wrote this chapter. Don't worry I'll continue it next update!

The prize of the rose and TheTrulyBeautifulOne T-shirt go to "Guest"! Here you go! *hands you lovely red rose and most beautiful T-shirt ever* Thank you so much for the support! Last chapter has already surpassed chapter 4 in views! Way to go, guys!

The next prize will be... One baby animal of the reviewer's choice and a studded bracelet with unicorns on it! Now, this offer is even harder to resist. I know, I'm evil. But I love it. If you want to win the prize, review and tell me your favorite animal, real or mythical. I have this great supplier called Imagination that lets me buy whatever pets I want!

Review and let me know whether I should do more emotional chapters or not!