13. Sometimes he wished he'd had a sibling or two growing up.

Denis spends a lot of the school holidays hanging out at his house. He has an older brother and three younger sisters, and he spends most of the holiday complaining about whatever it is they've done now. "Honestly, Jeremie, you're lucky to be on your own," Denis says. "I bet you get the best presents too. My parents always have to make sure it's fair and even between us."

Jeremie shrugs and watches as Denis fiddles with the exposed wiring of their newest creation. He plucks at the fraying edges of a tear on his sweater sleeve. His mother had promised to mend it, but she'd been too busy sleeping after her last treatment.

Denis blathers on, detailing how he has to wear his brother's hand-me-downs and how his sisters are annoying. Jeremie lets the other boy's words wash over him as he works on the front panel for the robot, screwing in lightbulbs for Denis to connect once he secures the wires. After they finish, Denis sits back, staring at their new robot, a grin stretching across his narrow face.

"Only took the morning," he says proudly. He elbows Jeremie in the ribs and Jeremie winces, rubs at his side. "If we did this at my house we'd still be getting the track on!"

. . … . .

Jeremie never really thought about the fact that he's an only child. Growing up he'd had Patrick, for a time, and Patrick had also been an only child. It had just seemed like it was the way of the world. It wasn't until Noelle Laurent came skipping into school one day when Jeremie was seven and proclaimed proudly that she was going to be a Big Sister that he really thought about the prospect of having a sibling.

"Do you ever wish you had a little brother?" he'd asked Patrick on their walk home.

Patrick had blinked at him, then laughed. He'd slung an arm around Jeremie's narrow shoulders. "Nah, why would I want a little brother when I've got you?"

Jeremie had wrinkled his nose at that, frowning. It had felt like an insult, even if the words were true and Patrick was smiling. Patrick did have him. They had spent weekends together and walked home together every day.

"Fine, a little sister?" Jeremie had pressed.

Patrick had paused then. His arm was still around Jeremie's shoulders, so it had made him stumble and then stop. Patrick had eyed him curiously, head tilted to the side. "Why?" he had asked. "Is Aunt Jeanne…?"

"No," Jeremie had replied quickly. He wasn't sure what Patrick had been about to ask, but he knew the answer was no. His parents would have told him if they'd been planning to have another child, he was sure of that. "No, just curious."

Patrick had studied him, then shaken his head. He was still smiling when he had reached over and ruffled Jeremie's hair. "Funny kid," he'd said. "Most kids would be thrilled not to have to share their toys. Why'd I want a little sister anyway?" He started walking again, hands deep in his pockets. "Sisters are the worst."

"Why?"

"Dunno, but everyone knows that. Just look at the films or shows. Little sisters are pests and they're voices are shrill." Patrick had glanced at him, smirking slightly. "Think of that girl in your year, what's her name, Corinne? The one with the mouse voice? Imagine living with that.

"And," Patrick had continued, "little brothers are worse. They tag along everywhere and steal your toys and everything. You have to share clothes and toys and bedrooms." He shook his head again. "Nah, I'm happy on my own, with you."

Jeremie had considered Patrick's words. His cousin was a year older and more wise in the ways of people and playground rules, even if Jeremie got better grades and could read levels beyond him. Patrick was probably right, he had decided. Still, that hadn't stopped the brief bubble of hope he'd felt when his parents had sat him down at the table to discuss his mother's doctor's appointments.

He wishes it had been a baby brother or sister.

. . … . .

Ulrich doesn't talk about Annie.

It's over a year before Jeremie even finds out that Ulrich has a sister. It's the first time Jeremie realizes that the other boy can keep a secret. He feels relieved and ashamed simultaneously. Why wouldn't Ulrich want to tell them about his sister? Should Jeremie have been friendlier, inquired more about his family and background? He doesn't know.

Ulrich isn't like Odd, who enjoys recounting stories and exploits and torments that he and his sisters have bestowed on each other. Instead, Ulrich keeps knowledge of his sister guarded, close to the chest, brought up with a bittersweet smile and a tone that doesn't encourage questioning.

He tries asking Odd and Yumi about it once, about Ulrich's odd reluctance to discuss his sister. Yumi had shrugged and kicked at a stray control panel on the factory floor. "You know Ulrich," she'd said, after a moment. "He doesn't discuss his family." She had looked over at Odd curiously. "Has he told you anything?"

Odd had shaken his head, but Jeremie had sensed he wasn't being entirely truthful. "No," Odd had replied. "But I think she's the only real reason he goes home for holidays."

That had surprised him. He had gotten the impression that there had been some kind of falling out between the two siblings. That they didn't talk as much. He isn't sure why or how he had gotten that impression, but it had stuck with him. After all, what other reason could Ulrich have for not talking about his sister to his friends?

It isn't until after the second failure, the one that nearly cost them more than the first failure, that he realizes he was wrong. Sitting in the waiting room at the hospital, watching the grief and guilt in Ulrich's face, the way his hands were clenched and his shoulders slumped so uncharacteristically, that he realized the other boy did care about his sister.

He hadn't known what to say then. He remembered Yumi's words to him: Don't ever imply this is his fault, he won't be able to handle it. Looking at him sitting there, he believed her. He wondered if he'd be better equipped to say something helpful, something meaningful, if he could relate, if he could understand the thought of almost losing a sibling.

Instead, he reaches out, clasps Ulrich's shoulder. It feels inadequate, but it's the best he can do.

. . … . .

Losing his mother had been hard. Seeing his father stoop-shouldered and hollow-eyed had haunted his dreams for months afterwards. He couldn't shake the irrational fear that he was losing him too. He'd wished he had a younger sibling then, a brother or a sister who was still at home, who could watch their father and make him laugh or smile.

Jeremie knew his father loved him still, knew his father was trying, but his smiles took effort now and they weren't as bright. He seemed to merely be existing now. Jeremie tried, he called every Sunday without fail, chattered away to fill the silences where once his mother would have asked questions about friends or schoolwork. He teased information from his father about his aunt and uncle, about Patrick, about the jobs his father did or the prospects of the harvest this year.

Slowly, slowly, his father came back to himself. He began to hesitantly ask after Jeremie's friends, began to talk of going over to his aunt and uncle's to play cards or have a meal. He didn't sound so lost or guilty. Jeremie released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, felt his shoulders relax for the first time in months, and realized just how tired he was.

. . … . .

"Louise has a new boyfriend," Odd groans. It's the type of groan that Jeremie has learned means Odd wants someone to ask him about it. It's different than the annoyed groan that Ulrich issues when he wants a subject dropped or the why-am-I-friends-with-you groan Yumi lets out when she thinks they've done something particularly stupid.

Jeremie blinks at him. "Who?" he asks.

"Georg," he sighs. He lays on the grass and stares up at the clouds. It's a rare nice day in late autumn, before the winter cold comes in, and Aelita had insisted on a picnic in the park.

"I meant, who is Louise?"

Odd rips up a handful of grass and hurls it at him without looking. Jeremie brushes it off. "My sister?"

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"Can't blame Jer," Ulrich says. He and Yumi are setting out the food she'd packed at home while Aelita fusses with the blanket. "You have so many who can keep them all straight?"

"Shut-up, that's not my fault."

"How many sisters do you have?" Aelita questions.

"Five," Odd replies, "all older."

"Parents kept trying until they had a boy?" Yumi asks.

Odd shrugs. "Don't know. Never asked, never really cared to know.

"So, what's wrong with Louise's boyfriend?" Ulrich asks. He takes a seat next to his roommate and hands him one of the sandwiches Yumi had prepared. Yumi smiles at Jeremie and hands him a sandwich as well.

"He lives down the street and is a giant asshole." Aelita frowns at him. "He is," Odd persists, "I know, okay? I've known Georg since we were practically toddlers." He sits up, plucks idly at the grass by his knee and ignores the sandwich Aelita sets in front of him. Jeremie raises his eyebrows at that, exchanging a look with the other three that Odd either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore.

For the first time in a while Jeremie thinks about having a sibling vs. being an only child, and he finds he doesn't mind being an only child as much. He has enough to worry about without concerning himself on the dating habits of a family member.

Ulrich frowns at him. "How bad?"

Odd sighs and shakes his head. Jeremie watches, fascinated. It's almost as though he can see Odd's ill-temper sluicing off of him, like Kiwi shaking the water off after a bath. It's like Odd's transformed from sulky to normal right before his eyes.

Odd gives them a small smile, bumps his shoulder into Ulrich's. "Not like that," he says, voice quiet but honest. "I'm just overreacting. Louise always had good sense, better than Adele anyway." He grins as he spies the sandwich, scooping it up and taking a large bite. "Don't mind me!" he adds around his mouthful, spilling crumbs over his shirt.

"Ugh," Yumi groans. She throws a napkin at him. "Honestly, how can you be raised with five sisters and still have the table manners of a pig?"

By the time they finish eating Odd is back to his normal, boastful self. He teases Jeremie, volleys sarcastic comments back and forth with Yumi, blasts some new band he's obsessed with on his mp3 player for Aelita to listen to, and jokes around with Ulrich. The sun is warm, the sky a bright cornflower blue, and the grass smells sweet. Jeremie finds himself stretched out after their meal, arms folded behind his head, and studying the clouds above.

Aelita settles in next to him, her arm brushing his, and Jeremie glances at her without turning his head. She's mirrored his pose, her cheeks pink from her time in the sun. "This is nice," she says, not looking at him.

"It is. It was a good suggestion."

She smiles, her lips a graceful curve and he has to look back at the clouds. He can feel his face warm and attributes it to the sunshine. He hopes he doesn't get sunburned.

. . … . .

Jeremie is sprawled gracelessly over Yumi's sofa. His head hurts, his lungs hurt, his stomach hurts…everything hurts, as implausible as that is. He groans and rubs at his eyes, disturbing his glasses and feeling miserable. He can hear Yumi murmuring in the kitchen. He thinks it's probably Ulrich on the phone, but can't really remember.

A moment later there's the sound of the kitchen sink and then footsteps. "How are you feeling?" Yumi asks.

Jeremie shrugs and keeps his hands over his eyes. He's glad he made it here before the breakdown.

The couch dips as Yumi takes a seat next to him. "It's going to be okay, Jeremie," she says, voice soft and soothing.

Jeremie sighs and rolls over onto his back. His legs feel cramped from where he's been curled up. He rubs at his eyes again and then sits up. "I know that," he says. "I know that," he repeats, voice firm. Yumi still has the doubtful look on her face when he chances a glance at her. "This is so stupid."

"It isn't," Yumi replies. She sets the glass of water down on the coffee table and leans back, shoulder pressed against his. "It's not."

He cleans his glasses on the end of his shirt before putting them back on. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to breakdown on your sofa." He was just supposed to drop Aelita at the airport, visit with Yumi for a few days, and then catch the train east to visit his family. Not meltdown in the middle of his best friend's apartment.

Yumi laughs and squeezes his arm gently. "Aelita isn't gone forever. She will be back."

"Then why does it hurt?" he asks. He hates the way his voice sounds, thin and reedy like when he was twelve.

Yumi gives him a sympathetic look, which he also hates. "Because you love her, idiot," she replies, voice fondly exasperated. She bumps their shoulders together again. "What do you need?"

"I don't know," he replies. His voice is too honest and the sympathetic look on Yumi's face deepens.

"Let's make popcorn and watch terrible horror movies," Yumi decides. "Aelita will call in a few hours, you know that. This is no different than during the summer hols when she went home with Odd." Jeremie knows Yumi is right. But, at the same time, she is wrong. This is so much longer than just a few weeks in another country.

Anything can happen in a year, he thinks morosely.

Yumi elbows him as she gets off the sofa and returns to the kitchen to make popcorn. Jeremie disappears into the washroom, splashing cold water on his face to erase any trace of red eyes or tearstains. Yumi smiles at him when he rejoins her in the living room, lets him choose the stupidest horror movie she has, and doesn't comment as he tears apart every improbable, every impossible and stupid scientific fact they use.

He spends three days holed up with Yumi. Aelita calls twice during that time, sounding bright and excited over the phone as she spoke loud to be heard over the commotion in the Della Robbia household. It hurts, hearing her voice, but he's also angry and confused. He still doesn't understand why she would choose this, what led her down this path.

Yumi distracts him with terrible movies and trips around Paris to places she thinks he'll like. She brings him to her job to pick up pastries, and introduces him to Sean. Jeremie manages to surreptitiously snap a photo of Sean and Yumi laughing over something and sends it off to Ulrich, Odd, and Aelita since Yumi refuses to send them photos. Totally dating, Odd sends back.

Yumi has work the morning Jeremie's train leaves. She folds him into a tight hug before they leave the apartment. "If you need anything, you call, okay?"

"Yeah."

"I mean it. Anything."

He looks at her and she has that stubborn set to her jaw that he hasn't seen since they shut down Lyoko. He gives her a smile and finds that it comes easier than it did at the start of the weekend. "I know, Yumi," he replies. He hugs her again. "Thank you."

"No thanks needed. I know you'd do the same for me." She steps back, hands on his shoulders and peering into his eyes. "Aelita needs to find herself, this isn't the end. I don't believe that, and I don't think you do either."

He can only swallow and nod. He knows it isn't. They'd discussed and fought and pleaded with each other over Aelita's decision, but they'd also promised each other that this wasn't the end. That she would be back in a year. He just hates the thought that he rescued her from one world to lose her to another.

Later, as he's staring out the train window at passing countryside, he realizes that Yumi had treated him the same way as she had treated Hiroki when he'd gotten his heart broken last year. The sympathetic looks, the distractions, the overabundance of baked goods… He wants to be annoyed, he isn't a little kid, but he finds that he can't help but smile.