GS Note: Yes, I realise this ending isn't really a finish. Some of you might consider it a little lame but this is how this story ends. It's the only way it can end. This is the perfect place for it to end, no matter the opinion of the reader. This is where it has to end and I'm sorry if you don't like it.

Epilogue

Life

Dear Dolly,

November 11th, 2002

It guess it's been a while, huh? About 5 years I suppose. A lot has happened since I first opened your pages. One, my penmanship has improved. I guess you'll be happy to hear that. You are my first diary, since then I've have dozens of others but right now this seems so write to inscribe this to you, my first. I was a virgin to writing before you and I'm sorry to say I stopped this year. I thought I was being childish telling my inner most thoughts to an inanimate object. I was wrong. Since I stopped, history seems to have repeated it's self with much more dire consequences. I almost lost Duo more then once. I almost lost him as a friend and he almost lost his life. I picked up a new diary yesterday, I christened her Hope. I got Duo one too but I'm not sure he's going to use it.

I've found that writing has a therapeutic atmosphere for me. I can write down my thoughts and feelings without fear of injury to myself. Oh yea, that's something I haven't told you about. Don't worry though, I'll fill Hope in about it later.

I wish I could tell the real Dolly all of what has happened to me, the tears I've had, the fear I've felt and that blood I've spilt. But…

I still don't want to drag her down into my problem, right? I mean she hashish school to think about now, soon she'll be off to university and how can I expect her to do well if she's worrying about me? No, this is just a teenager phase I'm going through, there is no reason to drag her down. I'm just lucky I survived it.

I guess teenagers are meant to be the transition phase from childhood to adulthood. More then anything I wish I could go back seven years. I want to play make-believe again, run without care and scrap my knees. I guess I could if I wanted but… I know I'm a little different from other kids my age, I swear and wear dresses, I know the proper way to greet the Queen and how to make mud pies with gravel and spit. Adolescence may be a transition period but to what? Are children innocent and adults tainted? Then what am I? Am I in the process of becoming tarnished with the realities of real life? What I want to know is how I can stop that. If I ever become my mother, God help me, I will finish the deed.

Maybe being a teenager is the last chance to enjoy childhood. To play all the games and know all the tricks. Why should I try and be the miniature future me? I may have to dress up and wear make up and kiss ass later in life, why should I try to be like that now? Children have more fun then adults, why am I pretending to be grown up now? I know I'm going to face it sooner or later. Childhood is so short, maybe adolescence should be tacked on to lengthen it. Whatever the real purpose is, I may never find out so I'm just going to use it the way I want.

Well, this is the final goodbye. I'll never open your pages again. This book is full of childhood memories that hit too close to me for comfort. They'll always be in my mind but it' s time to delete them from written word. I want these to die with me.

For the last time on this Earth,

Love

Dorothy Susanna Catolonia

Age-13

Dorothy knelt beside the dug pit, the dulled pencil falling into the hole from her limp fingers. She was dressed simply in a white dress. The sky was overcast, the earth chilly and the wind whipped her loose hair around her. She neatly tucked it over one shoulder as she placed the small, rose covered diary in with the pencil. The park was surprising empty and quiet, only one or two bird calls broke the deafening silence. Sunlight broke though a small patch it the clouds as the girl calmly pulled a match from her backpack beside her.

She kept her tranquil, blue eyes on the diary as she struck the match. The small flame flickered in the breeze but burned brightly in the red and yellow forest of trees. The ground was damp but the few dry leaves in the hole caught fire as soon as the flames touch it. It leapt, twisting the pretty red dancers into blackened sheets. It burned everything it touched before it finally reached the first corner of the pale book.

It eagerly licked the edges of the journal, turning the pattern dark and black. It bit into the swirls of roses until the cover was nothing but charred paper. Dorothy braved the flames, her chin held proudly as she opened the book, allowing the flames to eat at one page after another.

History disappeared in a flash, painstaking hours spend on spelling and grammar wasted in mere seconds as the fire played with the words. Soon, it reached the last entry, made only a few moments ago. It paused as the wind picked up then dove on the neatly pencilled letters. The edges curled as it was sucked closer to the eternal heat.

With nothing left in the shallow grave to devour, the fire slowly retreated, satisfied its job was done. A chill blew through the small clearing as tears fell unhampered from the young girl's eyes. Her delicate, child-like fingers brushed the stiff, black remains of the book before she calmly stood. Silent tracks falling down her pale face, she took the toe of her small shoes and crushed the book into ashes.

Beautiful hands were stained as she covered the tomb with dirt, hiding any evidence of the secrets destroyed inside. She wiped at her face, leaving traces of mud along her white skin. She turned her back on the still ground and picked up the backpack. With determination in her stride, she walked away from the silent grave towards Maxwell Church, her white dress floating gently behind her.

Duo was due back from the hospital. His being an alcoholic and drug user so young had done some considerable damage to his body and mind. His doctor, a kind man who had talked to Dorothy only a few weeks before, had told her that it would take a long time for Duo to be back to himself. Dorothy didn't doubt that. Even now, flashes of the horrible person he had created and the beautiful one he was, clashed. Conflict of the heart was a terrible thing to experience and even more horrid to witness in another. It gave birth to doubts and bred fears. It borne hope and nurtured trust.

It showed a person the blackness then the light that penetrated it. It could turn a dark tale into a touching one. It showed the light at the end of the tunnel, the hope after faith, the joy breaking the fear.

Conflict of the heart dashed fears and hope in the same stroke.

Dorothy knew this wasn't finished. This was far from over. Emotions never go away, they scar too deeply to ignore. But as she pushed the door open to the Church and saw Duo sitting in the kitchen, laughter written on his face as Solo told him a joke, she knew that there would only be scars. There was no place for open wounds here. She wouldn't allow them to fester on her or on Duo.

Conflict of the heart is a strange injury to the heart and soul. But, as the light can be banished by the dark and as the fear can be replaced with joy, it is the only real reason for life.

Gs: That's that. Obviously you know what happens to Duo and Dorothy, this is set about 4 years behind My Kinda Fairy Tale. I really wanted to try Heero's or Wufei's story next but the votes were for Merian or Quatre. It's a toss up between the two, if there are no more votes I'll just roll a dice. ^_^V Peace out!