A/N – Thanks to everyone for reading! The usual disclaimer applies.

In one of life's odd little coincidences, this week marks the 22nd anniversary of the Timisoara protests. I really hope this chapter isn't insensitive to that. I can say that, in researching for this story, I've gained a greater appreciation for the risks these people took. By standing up for their rights, they fought not only for Romania but to make the world a better and freer place, and for that they have my gratitude.

Ok, I'll shut up now. Enjoy the story!

Chapter 9 – The Death of Something

One of the things that she had not told Mitzi was that she had been there the day Nicolae's parents had died. She hadn't been with them when they had died—no one knew exactly when they had died—but she had been with him when he received the news.

The Carpathias had gone to Timisoara for a political rally. Cati was long used to hearing complaints about the current government issuing from the other room on Sundays, usually increasing to a louder volume after the adults had had one too many glasses of wine. It was something that both the Carpathias and the Pavenics could agree on; but, unlike Cati's parents, who suffered their lot in silence, Adriana and Manuel Carpathia had decided to do something about the food shortages and other outrages that had been growing steadily worse. They had been attending recent protests around the country.

Sometimes Nicolae, who did not get to accompany his parents on these trips, would try to explain to Cati what was going on in the country. She didn't have the grasp of political nuances that he did, but he told her that if the president was kicked out, there would be more cartoons on TV, and she liked cartoons. During this particular trip, Nicolae was sent to stay with Miss Vivian Ivins, another family friend, until his parents returned in time for Christmas. Cati had watched them wave goodbye to Nicolae and promise to bring him back a gift.

The morning it happened, she had been in history class. Catalina remembered that because they were coloring in maps of Europe that had each country labeled in black ink. Nicolae complained that this work was for babies; he already knew all of the countries in the world and their capitals. The teacher, who was used to Nicolae's complaints about the work being too easy, told him to sit down and color anyway. Nicolae grumbled but sat down. He was long done with the assignment by the time a knock sounded at the door, and Miss Ivins stood in the doorway looking very pale and asking to see him. The principal of the school was standing there with her. The class could tell that whatever it was, it was serious.

Nicolae appeared nonchalant as he stood up and left the room. Cati, who had the seat next to the door, could not contain her curiosity. She jumped up and skirted out of the room.

"Miss Ivins, what's going on?" she demanded, to the annoyance of the principal who told her sternly to return to her seat.

"It's all right," Miss Ivins said quietly, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Her parents will no doubt want to see her. I have their permission to take her home. And it will help to have a friend nearby…" She trailed off. They walked down to the office. Cati tugged at Nicolae's sleeve.

"What's going on?" she said. "Why are we going home?"

"I don't know," said Nicolae. Standing next to him, she could see that he was not as relaxed as he had appeared from a distance. He looked a little afraid.

In the front office, Cati hung back with the principal while Vivian sat Nicolae down.

"I'm afraid I have some very sad news for you," she said carefully. "There was a… well, an accident… in Timisoara. Your parents were hurt." Cati could tell that she was trying not to cry. It scared her, seeing a grownup try not to cry. "They were killed," said Vivian, very gently. "I'm sorry, dear."

Nicolae was quiet. "I don't believe you," he said finally. He stood up abruptly and walked over to where the principal was standing with Cati.

"I am going to use the phone," Nicolae announced. "I am calling my parents at the hotel."

Said Vivian gently, "You don't know the hotel's num-"

"I have it memorized," Nicolae said impatiently.

Nobody stopped him. He picked up the phone and dialed. The room was so quiet that Cati could hear the faint rings on the other end of the line. He let it ring and ring. The stillness in the room seemed to swell, like a bubble about to pop. And then, finally, a faint message: 'This number had been disconnected.' Then silence.

That silence did what Vivian's words could not. Nicolae's blue eyes grew wide. There comes a moment in each life when you recognize the fragility of existence, how easily all that you hold dear can be swiped away by a twist of fate or a thoughtless accident. Sometimes you wake up, and the only things you thought you could depend on forever are gone. You learn that there is nothing you can depend on and no one who will be there forever. For most, that moment comes when they have been on this earth much longer than seven years. Nicolae had not been so lucky.

An expression of inconsolable loss fleeted across his young face. Nicolae squeezed his eyes shut. For one jarring second, something shifted in the air. A chilling wind—not even a wind but something more subtle, like a breath—blew across the room. Nicolae opened his eyes again, and Cati would swear that she saw something die in them, some spark had gone out that would never be reignited. Then whatever she had seen was gone. Maybe she had only imagined the whole thing. Yes, she was sure she had imagined it.

Nicolae replaced the phone on the hook.

"Am I going back to your house, Vivian?" he said calmly.

Vivian nodded.

"Then let us go."

On the car ride home, Cati tried to console him. She was an expert at death ever since her gold fish had died two months ago.

"Being dead," she said to Nicolae, echoing the words her mother had said to her on that day, "means that they're in heaven with God."

"I hope not!" said Nicolae. "Why would they want to be there?"

"Nicolae," chastised Vivian from the driver's seat, "you don't say things like that!"

"But Aunt Viv, you said-"

"Hush!" said Vivian sternly. "Cati, I'm dropping you off at home. I'm sure your parents will want to talk to you…"

She didn't see much of Nicolae in the next few weeks. She saw him at the funeral, sitting in the front row next to Vivian. Everyone commented on how brave he was. He didn't cry at all. Only once, Cati saw him sigh deeply, the sigh of a person much older than seven. For the rest of the service, he stared straight forward and paid close attention to everything that was said. Cati didn't get a chance to talk to Nicolae that day, but when she saw him again at school, everything seemed fine. He was his usual charming, vivacious self. If anything, he seemed to shine brighter.

She wasn't sure why she never told Mitzi or Brian about this. Or about high school. Or the reason she had left Romania more than a decade ago. It wasn't that she was ashamed of her past. It wasn't that she didn't think they would understand; she knew they would.

It's just that sometimes it's nice to have your secrets.