Hello, readers! I really hope you liked the last chapter in Andrew's point of view. I really enjoyed writing out his thoughts and feelings because I know exactly where I want his character to go, and I believe that was the perfect time to hear from him. Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews that you left me, I was grinning from ear to ear every time I saw a new one. :D

This chapter will once again be back in Six's point of view. I really hope you enjoy this chapter! Please read and review, I love to hear your thoughts, predictions, suggestions, etc. :)

Thank you so much for the support, I love you all! :)

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Six

I wake up a little while later from a sound, unneeded but much enjoyed sleep.

Only to find that my pillow is invisible.

I gasp and sit up, throwing my pillow down, which causes it to reappear. To my dismay, my hand is still invisible to my mid forearm at this point. Clutching the pillow so tightly in my invisible hand during my sleep must have made it become invisible. I guess I'll have to be careful about that too. If Andrew came in at all when I was asleep, then my cover is blown. I only have to hope that he was feeling less concerned than usual, which is unlikely. Still, I didn't wake up in a hospital or science facility, so maybe that's a good sign.

I slowly get out of bed and study myself in the mirror. I'm wearing just an over sized t-shirt to sleep, which dons my arm - or lack thereof - shamelessly. I'll have to change. I go rummaging through my bag of new clothes and pull out the blue sweatshirt. It's about a size too big, which I think is most comfortable, so it'll hide my arm well. I strip off my shirt and put that on instead, then I slide on the new yoga pants. After that, I venture out into the living room, where I suppose Andrew is, my invisible arm and hand safely tucked in my sleeve...

As I peer around the corner, I see that he's there. Things seem normal, so I guess he didn't see my hand. He's sitting on the couch, the yellow knit blanket draped over his legs and his lap. In his hand is a black picture frame, but I can't see the photo inside from where I'm standing. He's staring at the picture, a look of nostalgic, longing sadness evident on his face with hints of worry around his eyes. Although my mind is telling me that the signs of worry are for me, not the picture. I stand there for a few moments, just watching him in the quietness, but soon enough, he senses my presence and looks up.

The sight of me seems to snap him out of whatever memory or emotion the picture was bringing about, and a little bit of ease comes back to his face. "Maren," he says."You're awake. How are you feeling? How is your arm?"

"It's...okay," I sigh, emerging from around the corner. It's not actually okay, but I'm used to lying.

More concern enters his expression. "Are you sure you don't want me to have a look at it?" He doesn't want to press...

"Not right now," I tell him. "Maybe later." He nods weakly and opens one of his arms, a sign for me to sit with him on the couch. Slowly, I go over and take a seat beside him on the couch, careful of my arm. He drapes the yellow knit blanket over me too as I fold my legs under me, curling up, then wraps his arm around me, enveloping me, and he pulls me closer to him. His body is warm and so is his embrace. His embrace reminds me of Katarina's, the way she used to hold me when we watched a movie together or when she would comfort me after having a nightmare...

His embrace is full of...love. Just like Katarina's.

I rest my head against his shoulder, accepting the love. I close my eyes and feel this bliss, such a normal bliss that a lot of kids feel everyday. The gift, the privilege, of having someone love you. I hold onto him tightly, curled into him to feel that love. Does Andrew truly love me too?

He squeezes my shoulder gently and I open my eyes. For the first time, I get a good look about what's inside the picture frame. It's a picture of three people; a middle aged man that resembles Andrew, tall and broad with the same smile; a beautiful woman with honey blonde hair, high cheekbones with her smile, and beautiful gray-blue eyes; and a younger version of Andrew, unmistakably, probably in his mid teens.

"Is this your family?" I ask him quietly.

"Yes. Me, my father, and my mother," he confirms in a quiet, strained voice. Sadness.

"You look a lot like your parents," I tell him softy. I'll never know if I looked like either of my parents.

He nods slowly. "My father's smile and my mother's eyes, is what everybody told me."

Now I nod in confirmation. "They were right." I see something flash in his eyes, but it's minuscule. I only see it because I've been with him for over a month now, watching him and learning about him. It's something heavier than nostalgia, something worse. Something as heavy as...loss. I'm quiet for a few moments and so is he as we both stare at the picture. He's beginning to have that trance-like look again, and something about it makes me feel his loss too.

"Where are your parents now?" I finally as him quietly.

He takes a shaky breath before answering, but I don't think he's crying. "Dead," he says. "They're dead."

"How?" I ask him. I'm taking a risk by asking questions, but a part of me senses that he wants to talk about it. He almost wants to grieve.

He breathes out again. "My father died of cancer when I was sixteen. Pancreatic cancer," he clarifies. "He was diagnosed with Stage 4 and only lived for five months after the diagnosis. It...hit my mom and me hard." I can tell it's tough to talk about, but he wants to tell me, I believe. Some part of him wants to trust me the same way he wants me to trust him, even though I'm just a young girl.

"And...your mom?" I ask quietly, my own voice tightening with sadness.

"She...she disappeared eight years ago," he says quietly, as if the pain and sadness is progressing, which it probably is. "She disappeared without any trace at all..."

I feel empathy for him and pain creeps into my own stomach and throat as well. My parents are dead too, but I never knew them. But I did know Katarina, and she was as close to a mother as I ever had. And I watched her be tortured and killed. I know what it's like to lose someone you love.. I know that and worse.

"I...I'm sorry..." I say quietly, the sadness evident in my voice too. I've never seen Andrew so vulnerable, so sad, so...broken. To me, Andrew has always seemed well put together. But sometimes you have to break to understand what it's truly like to be mended.

"It's...it's okay..." he says quietly. "My parents were...really special to me. They inspired me." He looks at the picture longingly and swallows some of his sadness. "My dad was a doctor. He...he ignored his symptoms of cancer because of that. From everything he had seen as a doctor, he figured they were nothing to worry about, so he didn't. And it cost him." He sniffs. "He inspired me to go into medicine. And now I can help people and do great things like he did." He looks fondly at the picture of his dad, a small smile at his mouth, like he's finally remembering something good.

His eyes travel the small centimeter across the picture to his mother. "My mom...my mom was an astronomer, and one of the best in the country at that," he tells me. "She inspired me to pursue science as well, even though I chose a different sort of it. She always told me to never stop asking questions, to always wonder why. She told me she loved science so much because it explained things, and she believed there was still so much out there to learn and understand, especially in the endless realm of outer space. She studied what's in space and I study life. Together, we were a flood of knowledge." He laughs very slightly. "They raised me. They loved me. I didn't have any siblings. They were all that I had, and they were all I wanted, too. But now..." He trails off.

By the end of what he's saying, I'm nearly speechless. He had such an amazing connection to his parents, and each of them was special to him in their own way. I'm suddenly envious of that connection, having parents like that since I never truly knew mine, but my mind instantly falls back to the heartbreak that he endured losing them, and I realize that his situation may be even worse than mine. I realize I'm now hugging a pillow, seeing it as some sort of comfort, I guess.

"I...I lost my parents too..." I finally whisper. He turns his head to look at me, and I look up at him too, into his sad gray-blue eyes that match his mother's. "And my guardian."

Upon hearing this, Andrew wraps his arm around me tighter. He's focused on my grief momentarily, not his own. He's selfless that way,in the way that he cares for me. "You never told me that, Maren," he says quietly, stroking back my black hair. "Why not?"

I breathe out now too. "I...I don't know..." I say sadly. "I just..." I trail off, not knowing how to finish my sentence suitably without having to lie.

"Well," he says. "I just shared a little bit with you about my past." He rubs my shoulder. "So why don't you tell me a little bit about yours?"

My heart skips a beat and I tense slightly. I can only hope he doesn't feel it, but I'm almost certain that he does. "M-My past?" I ask him.

"Yes, Maren," he says quietly. "Your past. I don't know anything about you."

My heart starts to feel heavy. "N-No...you said you wouldn't leave me..."

He frowns. "Maren, I'm not going to leave you. I just want to know more about you."

"I knew this would happen," I say, my voice stony. "You're getting to curious for your own good."

He frowns even deeper. "Maren, what are you hiding from me?" he finally asks. "We talked about this earlier. You need to trust me. I'm not going to let you down, I promise you. I love you too much for that."

I look up at him suddenly. "You...love me?" I ask.

"Yes," he says, his voice gentle but firm, as if asserting it as fact. "I do. Very much. Which is why I want you to trust me." The sadness in his voice has turned into a small form a desperation. His eyes are sad and pleading.

I sigh and rest my chin on the pillow, thinking about his words. He loves me, despite knowing nothing about me. He wants me to trust him more than anything else. I clutch the pillow in my hands out of apprehension.

But then the pillow disappears.

I throw it down and shriek, and I hear Andrew gasp quietly beside me, tensing up. Oh no...

I just ruined everything.