Disclaimer: Yadda Yadda…same scenario as ever. Don't own it, so please don't sue.

Authors Note: Sorry for the wait…as per usual life got in the way again…

Love and Betrayal

Chapter Six:

Alexia prowled through the streets, kicking tufts of trash as she went. These colony civilians are so messy, she thought miserably as she sulked through an alleyway. What she wouldn't give to be back home…back on earth. Here the air seemed almost intoxicating. The purified chemicals drifting through the air made her sensitive nose tingle. She yearned for the wide, open air of Earth, opposed to the contained captivity of the colonies.

Alexia sighed, resting her back against the protruding brick terrace. Why had mother wanted to come here anyway, she wondered lazily, hiding her gloved fingers on the inside of her sleeve. They had been in such a hurry to leave. Half of her belongings still lay forgotten in their isolated cabin.

"I don't have time to explain," her mother had said as she ushered her daughter out of the door. "But something's come up…"

Alexia hugged her flute tightly. Her mother's meanings were a mystery to her. But all the same, if her voice carried the amount of urgency as it had that day, Alexia knew it was best to just follow quickly and silently.

Alexia walked a bit further into the alleyway and slumped near a wooden doorway. She looked up into the metallic sky as snow began to lightly drift down on top of her. Slightly muffled voices filtered through the worn and weathered woodwork behind her.

She groaned, pulling out a pencil and few sheets of paper. Her hand immediately began to sprawl across the sheet, the empty music staffs filling with notes as she hummed the whimsical tune to herself. A dismal day for dismal work. At least a bit of music would cheer her up, even it if was by mother's orders.

Artificial clouds draped over the sky, casting ominous shadows along the way. Alexia shivered, the cold biting through her jacket with razor sharp fangs. She paused for a moment, etching meter-long rests into her music. The mumbling behind her had ceased, and the world was now utterly still.

Alexia tried to breathe, finding the breaths labored and thin. Her arms ached and her chest throbbed. Her heart began to pound in her ears as a winter gust blew strands of hair dancing around her face. There was nothing, pray the fumes she despised tickling her nose. Then a truck drove by, blaring madly toward downtown.

Her instant of serenity had past; the world was now swathed with its constant chaos. The voices behind her rose again, now clearly audible, even through the door.

But her lingering feeling remained, a distant and undistinguishable pain. Her eyes, glassy and absent, gazed in to the bustle of the colony. No one even noticed the small girl, hidden by shadows. Alexia groped for her instrument.

She had to get home.

Now.

Duo peered at Trowa from behind the large, wingback chairs of the boardroom. His violet eyes sparkled playfully, his fingers clasped tightly around the velvet cushion, a million questions hanging dangerously upon his lips. It would be just so easy to open up his mouth and-

"Shut it Duo." Wufei snapped, eyeing the pilot from the corner of his narrowed eyes. "We all want to know the same thing as you except-"

"Except we'll let Trowa tell us when he's ready." Heero finished, his face muscles taunt. He glanced at Trowa, locking gazes with the silent pilot before he turned away. "Though I have to admit we're all quite curious."

Trowa closed his eyes, reminiscing in the memories forged but a few hours ago. He could still feel the pressure of Midii's fragile frame pressed against his own body, and the smell of her as she had slowly faded into sleep. He could sense the electrifying sensations of her heated skin beneath his fingertips and her shallow breath against his neck. All feelings he longed to hold again. And yet, in the same instant, he knew the price her company carried.

He had learned it all too well, and paid dearly for it. Still the haunting, dying screams of his former comrades echoed through his mind. The screams caused by the very woman in which lie resting in the room beyond.

Had she truly been so different back then, he wondered, the antagonizing emotions swelling within him. What had happened to the small girl that would watch him as he worked and not take offence to his silent, calm exterior? What had caused her to transform into the cold, unfeeling woman she was now?

He did not want to admit it, but his heart and mind agreed in unison.

It had been his fault. He had set that deadly transformation into play. With a single bullet he could have ended it all. Who knew how many times her devilish antics had hindered the wars and helped the enemy. Who knew how many times she had betrayed another, costing lives and worthless bloodshed.

Rage built within him, mixing and molding with the feeling of elation he's been consumed with but not a moment before.

How many more people had she betrayed…

His mind was strewn into confusion. Nothing made sense to him. He couldn't find the pieces to the puzzle, let alone set them into place. Should he be relieved that the one person who had ever understood him, the one person to notice the nostalgic expressions flirt across his face, was back in his life? Or should he allow the restrained anger caged inside him free to cause havoc as it pleased?

The room suddenly felt small as he opened his eyes to gaze at his four comrades. Each face watched him hopefully, patiently waiting his clarification.

"I can't explain," Trowa spoke close to inaudibly. "How can I make you understand when I don't even understand it myself?" The room shuffled as each pilot stole hesitant glances from the other. Quatre's brow furrowed, his gaze falling to the floor. In a moment, his eyes fell on the Heavyarms pilot, searching for answers he knew only he could find buried beneath his best friends clam façade.

"It's her, isn't it?" he began slowly, wiping his palms on his khakis. "She's the woman you told me about before, isn't she?" His voice was calmly suppressed, revealing nothing more than the blatantly obvious.

Trowa hesitated an instant, inwardly cringing at Quatre's searching gaze, before giving a curt nod.

Quatre took a sharp intake of breath, his eyes suddenly filling with an injured look. His muscles tensed as his fingers grasped the fabric of his pants. All those stories couldn't be true…

"But Trowa," Quatre began again; his eyes now clear in stark contrast to the torrent churning inside him. "You told me she was dead."

Heero crossed his arms, leaning back into the pleats of his chair and listening intently.

Quatre winced, images of Trowa's story resurfacing. "You told me you had killed her…"

The stillness in the room magnified as each pilot held their breath, waiting anxiously for Trowa's reply. Surely there had to be some misunderstanding…

Trowa stood and walked toward the frosted window. Crossing his arms and laying them across his chest, he sighed deeply. "I guess," he began slowly, his words carefully chosen. "I thought that I had." He turned back to the pilots, and for a rare instant his mask dropped. "She had betrayed so many people and cost so many lives. But I was the one she took pity on…the one she spared." Rage spread across his features. "You have no idea the amount of hatred I had that day. One girl…one girl had killed so many. And I should have been one of them." Trowa's mask was back as he again stared out the window.

Duo scratched his head. "But Trowa…" he began, "Shouldn't you be thankful for that? Why would you want to kill someone for saving your life?" Trowa inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"She was the only one I could trust Duo, the only one who understood me." Trowa rested his head against the chilled glass. "I've been a soldier since the day I was born, but when I was with Midii, I could be human too." His breath began to fog the glass. "When I lost that, when I lost her, a part of me died. I wasn't human anymore. I had always been told that by people before, but it wasn't until that day that I believed them." Trowa turned his back to the glass and slid down to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face. "I could have shot her Duo. I should have shot her. I was so angry. But I didn't." He looked up at the group and meet each of their rapt expressions.

"I died that day, and I guess I had convinced myself that she had too."

Wufei shook his head. "I still don't understand. Why didn't you just end all the suffering then? If you were so angry, what stopped you from killing her?" Trowa focused on the wall, his gaze glossy and inert.

"I made her cry Wufei. Those woman's tears stopped me."

The streets were calm, and the only thing moving were bits of trash blown by the wind. Yet still, something wasn't right. Alexia could tell that much.

She inched toward the belfry. Pausing for a moment, she let her heartbeat steadily slow to its normal pace. The bells should have rung for the afternoon mass by now, yet the massive chimes stood ringing silent. The chill of winter bit at her skin, but she ignored the incessant bitterness.

Alexia moved closer to the cathedral's archway. Where was everyone…why weren't they here? As she approached the stone-flagged steps, her breath stopped. Towering above her stood the sanctuary that her and her mother had used as a haven for the past weeks. Father Rupert had been kind enough to allow them to reside in the church's belfry, as long as they agreed to attend the masses regularly.

At first Alexia had been reluctant. Cathedrals were not places for people of her and her mother's stature. She did not belong and felt an outcast every time she knelt respectfully in prayer. But Father Rupert's kind expression had quickly set her at ease. He would sit her on his arthritic knee and tell her that the Lord loved everyone, regardless of their past. He would say that the Lord was always watchful of his children.

Soon, Alexia welcomed the church into her life. The smell of incense was as regular as the feel of her flute beneath her fingertips. There were mornings in which she would wake early, as soon as the sun rose, just to rush into the narthex and help the aging priest to open the church. He would always chuckle at her newfound eagerness, and wrinkles would form at the corners of his eyes and stretch to the corners of his graying temples. Alexia could always make him laugh, and she prided herself on that, because at the same time she felt she was also able to preserve a piece of her innocence. She loved Father Rupert, holding him in high esteem and giving him the love of a granddaughter to a grandfather. The church was always filled with his laughter.

But now it was silent, and not with the reverent quiet of prayer either. Incense smoke no longer filtered through the saintly, stone-carved archway. The air was pungent with the scent Alexia was only too quick to remember.

She dropped her flute, dashing up the stairs as quickly as her small feet would take her. Please…! Her mind cried urgently, tears threatening to fall down her face. Please Lord, let me be imagining things! The angels engraved into the marble held out their arms as she passed into the cathedral. But their devoted faces and gestures did nothing to calm the small girl's torrential grief.

Tapestries were shrew every which way, torn from the walls and cluttering the floor. A statue of the virgin mother stood in front of the altar, the right half of her face shattered. The baptismal fount lay broken, overflowing and staining the carpeting red.

Alexia stepped gingerly around the fallen candles and debris, making her way toward the center of the church. She let out small sniffles as she continued to try and convince her heart of what her mind already knew. She turned and faced the fount, falling to her knees as she did.

Father Rupert lay in the pool, his vestments drenched scarlet as the holy water continued to poor over his wounds. Alexia's fingers shook as she hesitantly moved to close the priest's eyes over his distant, vacant gaze. Silently she traced the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer that his spirit would reside forever in heaven.

Alexia stood, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. They would pay. Whoever had done this would pay. She made a vow to herself that instant that she would watch that person suffer.

She gasped, spinning around and dashing toward the belfry stairs. "Mother!" she screamed.

She hurtled over the wreckage, her youthful legs straining to reach the small kitchen she had been in but a few hours ago. She halted as her mother's familiar voice reached her ears. Temporary relief spread over her. Mother was safe…Mother was alive.

She moved toward the door, positive that her mother would know who had desecrated such a sacred place. As she reached to open the doorway, she froze.

"I've told you before, I don't know where she is!" Alexia opened the door but a sliver, allowing her to see into the kitchen without being seen herself. There was an unknown man standing in front of her. His eyes shone wildly, his dark brown hair falling around his ears. His voice was harsh and demanding and a gun shone in his hips holster. Alexia gasped quietly as he reached out, his palm colliding with her mother's cheek.

"Don't you dare lie to me Kizuta! I know you've been keeping tabs on that girl, and I want to know what she's up to!" He let his jaw muscles clench. "Don't make me do something that I'll regret."

Kizuta rubbed her face and stared back at him defiantly. "Don't ever hit me again, Humaki, or you'll get nothing out of me."

Humaki's mouth formed a snaking grin. "So you admit that you do know something about her don't you." Kizuta blinked, then turned away. "How quaint, you protecting a former comrade." He moved forward and began to caress her shoulders. "You know that she's as good as dead anyway. Midii Une will not live through this war."

Kizuta spun, facing the man hovering over her. "W-What do you mean by that?"

Humaki smiled. "Exactly what I said. She will die before the final battle concludes." Alexia's mother shook as she pulled away from his haunting grip.

"No, she's too valuable for you to just kill." Humaki nodded in agreement.

"True, but that doesn't mean that others cannot be taught just as she had been. Wars can easily corrupt and change people. In the coming age, another Midii Une will not be difficult to create." Kizuta let her hair fall around her shoulders. Her eyes met with those of her daughter for an instant. Run! her eyes screamed. But with childish persistence, Alexia stayed.

Kizuta took a deep breath, inhaling deeply to calm her thoughts. "Leave. You've caused enough damage already." Humaki snorted.

"You mean that foolish priest outside?" he laughed, a deep rumble in his throat. "He was merely another casualty of war. Perhaps if you had made yourself easier to find, he wouldn't have had to die."

Alexia gasped, quickly covering her mouth to stifle the sound. Humaki's ears perked, following Kizuta's gaze toward the doorway. His large boot kicked the door, forcing the wood to slam back and hit the small girl in the face.

"Stop it!" Kizuta screamed, rushing to shield her daughter. A trickle of blood ran down Alexia's forehead. She shivered slightly in her mother's embrace. Humaki stood, his eyes glaring threateningly at the small girl. His temples throbbed and Alexia could hear his teeth grind. He let his hand rest gently on the end of his gun.

"I never knew you had a child Kizuta," he drawled, cocking his pistol. "Though I shouldn't be surprised. She looks exactly like you. But I wonder," he aimed at Alexia's slouched form. "Is she just as stubborn as her mother?"

Kizuta rose protectively. "What do you want?"

Humaki growled. "That girl is an accident waiting to happen, and must be eliminated. Get out of the way."

Trowa hesitated a bit as he walked down the medal corridor toward the Med Ward. He had no idea what he even wanted to say to her. He rested his fingers lightly on the cool steel of the keypad. He could hear rustling within the room. At least she hasn't managed to escape again, he managed to convince himself as he typed the entrance code into the luminescent keys next to the doorway.

Ever since Midii Une had escaped, her security had been doubled. Heero didn't appreciate it when someone escaped from Preventer in general, let alone in the middle of a war. It compromised his image as both a head Preventer operative and gundam pilot. Though the others had tried to convince him that though he was a valued member, and that Lady Une was still the executive chief, Heero still took the job seriously enough to give orders whenever he deemed necessary. Luckily no one objected.

The room was a bit darker than he expected, and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. Midii was facing the corner, stretching. Her movements were limited, and Trowa noticed she never leaned to her right. Her breathing seemed ordinary, barely ranging into a pant.

He stared at her for a moment, watching the ripples of finely toned muscles from beneath the thin hospital dress, and the golden fan of hair as it slid down her shoulders. Then Midii turned, her eyes frozen and callous.

"What do you want, Nanashi?" she snapped. She walked cautiously toward the bed, never letting him out of her line of vision. Trowa shifted his weight, waiting as she again fiddled with her bandages.

"You need to stop messing with them," he said, nearly whispering. Midii stopped and turned to him.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do," she said curtly, swinging back onto the floor, limping toward him and grimacing slightly. "I never asked you to save me." Trowa leaned against the doorframe. He shut his eyes, refusing to look at her mending figure. It had only been a little more than a month since he'd first found her buried beneath the rubble, but her battered, bleeding body was still prominent in his memory. He did not want to see her more than he had to now.

"Perhaps not, but," Trowa paused and took a deep breath. "Now that I did, are you going to just throw your life away again?" He opened his eyes enough to see her mouth clamp shut. Her eyes glared at him defiantly for an instant before she turned her back to him. Her hair waved slightly above her shoulders.

"Why?" she mumbled, her arms hanging limply at her sides. "What is it that would make you want to save me?" Midii turned; her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Haven't I caused you enough trouble?!"

His eyes snapped open. Had she wanted to die? He knew from experience what it was like to wish for nothing but to go to sleep and never wake up again; he knew what it was like to feel hollow inside and yet have things eat away at the last shards of humanity remaining. The feeling of being entirely and utterly lost was all too familiar.

"Why," she repeated, "Would you want to save someone like me?" Trowa glanced at her, noticing that the tears had still to fall.

"Because I have yet to save myself," he answered, his voice refusing to display the tumultuous emotions spinning within. "But I could always save you, Midii. You were always there when I couldn't escape my own self-inflicted prison. You were the only person to make me feel human." He looked up from the linoleum floor, locking gazes with the woman across the room. "That's why I couldn't kill you that day; that's why I couldn't bring myself to let you die."

Midii was silent a moment, before letting out a curt snort. "I'm no use to anyone alive," she repeated, leaning against the bed. "Not even to you, Nanashi. Don't let your naïveté blind you from the truth. I'm not the vulnerable, innocent little girl from your past." As she glanced at him, again she was met again with his tearless mask. She turned away, continuing to hold back her tears. She would not cry for him.

"I knew that the moment I rescued you," he spoke, barely above a whisper. "But you're still Midii." She bit her lip, nibbling on the tender flesh. A flush rushed across her neck.

"Tell me," she questioned, desperate to change the subject. "How is it that you are still fight with the gundams? Were they not destroyed after the war with Mariemaia?"

Trowa shuffled his feet a bit before gazing at her through the mask of his bangs. "He had destroyed the gundams, but as that time we expected peace to last much longer than merely two years."

"You rebuilt them?" she asked, her eyes growing slightly wider. "But-But how? Without the scientists-"

"How did you know about them? Trowa cut in, his jade eyes glaring.

"I worked during the wars, remember," she retorted, sidestepping his question. "Now tell me, how could you have built them without the assistance of Dr. J and the others? I was under the impression that all data on the gundams construction was lost when they were…eliminated." She spoke the last words a bit slower than the others, her eyes searching his shrouded face for some hint of emotion. But she shuttered and adverted her gaze as she was met with his constant glare.

"When they were , eliminated," he answered, slightly drawing out the final syllables. "We had already transferred the gundam blue prints to one of our own computers." Midii nodded and closed her eyes as her mind began to rolodex.

"Winner Corp. computers," she finally answered, as if to some unasked question. She smiled inwardly, noticing the brief glint of surprise brush through his eyes. "It's not that difficult to figure," she reassured him. "Or at least not for someone with my credentials. Winner Corp. would only be the reasonable place to store the files; maximum security plus ample resources to construct the machines when needed." Midii grinned, the corners of her lips curling toward her eyes. "Who would have imagined that the most pacifistic person in your entire group, Quatre Winner, would be housing the very means of destruction?" She flipped her hair, observing the muscles along his jaw line become taunt. "A bit hypocritical don't you think? Advocating peace by day and destroying lives by night…

"Shut up." He'd tried to restrain the emotions swelling up within him, and yet-- "It's much more complicated than that."

Midii propped herself on the bed, grabbing her knees and a pillow toward her chest. "Well of course it is, Nanashi," she snorted. "Because that's what you all do, is it not?

Trowa's breathing became a bit faster. "My name is Trowa now," he insisted, not sure how to reply to her question. Midii sneered.

"No, it's not!" she snapped. "you stole that name, just like you've stolen so many other things…"

At that moment, the door behind him slid open with a gentle whoosh. Quatre stood silhouetted in the doorframe, slightly out of breath. Midii tilted her head to the side, playing up an innocent manner. "Well well, if it isn't Quatre Winner himself! Won't you join us? I seem to have dear Nanashi at a loss for words and our conversation has become rather boring. Perhaps you would help liven up the debate?"

Quatre shot a quick glace at his friend before smiling apologetically. He bowed slightly. "I'm afraid that I'll have to decline Miss, I simply came to retrieve Trowa. Perhaps another time…"

Midii let her feet dangle to the side, still clutching onto the pillow. "I'll hold you to that. It does get a bit tiresome sitting alone in the dark." Quatre nodded.

"Trowa, Heero needs you at the front. He says it's an emergency. Something about you were with him…"

Trowa unclenched his fists and relaxed his cramped fingers. "All right then." He glanced back at Midii. "We aren't finished." Then he left, with the same subtle whoosh as before.

Midii placed the pillow beside her and gently eased her face into the downy material. She listened for the scuffle and murmur of voices outside her door.

It was only when she was certain she was alone that she allowed herself to cry. The tears spilled onto the pillow in a salty rage, soaking into the fabric as it also subdued her muffled sobs.

Midii swore at herself, cursing her weakness. Every time she saw him, everything was thrown out of order. She always felt so defenseless in his presence. She didn't want to be saved anymore.

Midii turned, the tears sill striding down her face, and concentrated on the slowly spinning blades of the fan. She didn't want to feel the scared, insecure child within her anymore. She had been so sure that the girl she once was had died, yet with Nanashi around, the child came back, kicking and screaming to be let loose.

She pulled the back of her hand across her tear-stained cheeks, then rested it on her forehead. As the blades continued to turn, she promised herself and the darkness that she would never let Nanashi see her cry. She wouldn't allow him that pleasure.

Trowa cringed as he walked down the hallway, his hands shoved into his pockets . Quatre gave him a sideway glance, then smiled. "Having trouble with her again?" he asked, not needing his reply to know the answer.

Trowa let his toe scuff the floor, before running his gently quivering fingers through his bangs. "She so infuriating." Quatre whistled tunelessly for a second, then put his hand comfortingly on Trowa's shoulder.

"I have to admit, I've never seen you this rattled before. Women really do own the hearts of men." Quatre gazed into the flickering lights of the corridor as they rounded the corner. "Allah knows I've had enough trouble with my sisters and Dorothy. But one thing's for certain; they sure make things interesting."

Trowa stopped, slamming his fist against the wall. His shoulders were hunched, hiding his face even more so than his bangs. "You just don't understand at all Quatre. I look at her and I see the same eyes, the same smile, the same hair falling around her face. I look at her and I never know whether to hold her, or strangle her." Quatre winced, but after a moment shrugged his shoulders.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he asked, noting how his friend stood straight at his question. "Are you certain that she's the same person as well? I doubt Heero will continue to grant you visitation rights if you make an attempt at her throat." He continued down the corridor, listening for the quiet footfalls behind him.

"Just remember Trowa," he said as the sound began to echo his own. He stopped in front of the door. "Just remember what wars do to people. Don't hold it against her for what she did; don't hold it against anyone for what they did." Quatre let his hand rest gingerly on his left side. It had been years, but the scar Dorothy's foil had caused on Libra was still prominent against his pale skin. "If you can learn to forgive, I'm sure you can find that the woman you love is only wearing a mask to protect what little emotions she has left."

"Quatre…" Trowa narrowed his eyes, then shook his head dejectedly. "I guess you're right." Quatre grinned as they stepped into the room.

Heero looked up as they entered, his expression firm and genuinely irritated. "Where have you been?" he snapped. "We have an issue on our hands." He pointed toward Sally.

The doctor was standing in the corner, bent over a small chair and mumbling softly. "Are you alright?" she cooed. As Trowa neared, he could see the small girl perched on the seat. Her hair was plastered about her red, swollen eyes, and her shoulders shook slightly as muffled sobs escaped her petite frame. The girl refused to answer, shrugging off Sally's attempts to brush the hair from her face.

"Please, let me help," Sally coaxed, continuing to try and wipe the girls face. Trowa knelt next to Sally.

"Who's this?" Sally looked at him hopefully.

"I was hoping you could tell me." She motioned toward Heero. "Heero tells me that the three of you had a run in earlier." Trowa frowned and looked back at the small figure. Like Sally, he went to move the hair from her eyes. She made not protest, but refused to look him in the eye. Instead, she fiddled with the buckles on the small case lying in her lap.

Trowa pulled his hand away from her face after a moment, glancing down at his palm. It was slick with blood. Sally gasped and ran for the bandages.

Heero grunted and narrowed his eyes. "Do you remember her now, Trowa?" he asked, voice tinged with an unusual tartness. Trowa nodded, wiping his hand on the canvas of his jacket.

"Alexia." The girl let out a sniffle, clutching the flute to her chest. Sally dabbed a cotton swab over the large gash on her forehead. Most of the blood had dried into a crusty trail along her skin, but it looked as if the wound had reopened. Alexia bit her lip and more tears streamed down her face.

Sally stood, chucking the soiled swabs into the trash. Her eyes flared, fingers nimbly wrapping the bandage around Alexia's head.

Trowa leaned against the wall, allowing his arms to hang lifelessly at his sides. "How did she get here? Do you know?" Heero snorted, his head snapping to the side.

"We haven't been able to get anything out of her but useless crying."

"Heero!" Sally shouted, causing the room to jump. "How dare you! Have you no compassion?" Heero growled.

"Have you no sense? We're in the middle of a war, and suddenly little crying girls, beaten up by their parents, come waltzing through our doors. If children can find where we are positioned, who's to say that the enemy can't find us as well?"

Quatre made a silent protest. "That's true, Heero, but can we really just turn her away? Her parents may have hit her-"

"My mother never hit me." Alexia broke in from the corner, her voice choked with tears. "My mother would never strike me." Both Quatre and Sally's brows furrowed.

"Then, who did this to you? And why didn't you go to your mother?" Alexia slid from the corner, falling to her knees. She rested her face against the cool ground, letting the tears splash onto the tile. She could still smell the blood of the cathedral, and the smoke from the pistol. She didn't want to remember what happened, but the images continued to explode behind her eyelids.

"M-My mother's gone," she wailed after a moment. Alexia lifted her body enough to glance at her frostbitten fingers. The crimson liquid caked her palms. She pulled her fingers into a fist. Sally wrapped her arms around the child, rocking her back and forth.

"Shh…shhh…there there now. It's going to be alright." Quatre leaned next to Sally as the crying began to subside.

"You'd make a wonderful mother Sally," Quatre said lightly, lifting the girl's chin. He looked into Alexia's eyes, swollen from tears. "Do you know who did this to you?"

Alexia pulled her chin away and yanked herself from Sally's hold. She nodded, mumbling a name beneath her breath. Quatre's eyes grew wide, glancing frantically at Trowa, then back at the child again huddled in the corner. "Are you sure?"

Alexia stood, her legs wobbling beneath her weight. She grabbed Sally's coat for support, and turned to face Heero and Trowa. She nodded, attempting to ebb the tears flowing down her face.

"Midii Une. Midii Une is the one who did this to me."

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A/N: I'm extremely sorry it took this long for finish the chapter. I hope it was worth the wait though. Not much action, but hopefully it should leave you with a few questions. I'd love to tell you what to expect next chapter…but I'm not exactly too certain myself. Please don't forget to review!!