Hello to everybody reading this! It's been what? A month since I've updated? My sincerest apologies to anybody who has generously maintained their interest in this little ditty. I'm an incredible dork—just recently received a long awaited DVD, and now I watch it constantly. Very zombie-like of me, I suppose. My summary's varied from the norm, but it's hard to think of three phrases that explains the whole chapter. Or maybe I'm intellectually challenged…hope there's a cure.

Neona-deniker: You maybe the only person who actually pitied Sabrina. In my opinion, Mary Lynnette should have tackled her then and there, but I suppose that would have startled Ceberus. Hmm, Adrian and Rita…I can't exactly say they'll be lovin' it up down in the dungeon, but things would move along nicely. And bravo to you for liking Maria—if nobody like us will value the pains in the asses, then who will? And when Rita said that, she wasn't try to be funny; just truthful.

Now, when is there not trouble in the Eldson household? I dunno what to say about the boy…but, with my stories, one should read into things as often as possible. Any who, Valdis did always say that Eldson men were strong, he just didn't explain how they stayed strong. And, gosh darn, Nancy Drew, stop trying to solve the mystery before the author herself figures out the mystery! Their relationship has already changed from its original stance, and it will some more, but I'll leave the interpretation to you. Thanks bunch!

Nikki: Curt and courteous review, Nikki, very nice. Ah, the request to write more and 'asap'…nice, but far too optimistic. Nowadays (great word) I usually have to choose between two great loves: writing/updating fanfiction, or sleep. And I love sleep! But maybe, since I'll be…um…'sick' a lot next semester, I'll have more time to update. Thank you for your consideration! :0)

Alocin: Kewl! Two 'really''s, so that must mean I'm up to par. I know you loved it lots (and loving it lots and lots...am I the only one who knows that song?) but, if you're not too busy, I'd like to know what part you love the best…maybe I'd emphasize them. But that's only if you have the time, and hopefully you'll keep on reviewing, whether they're short or long. Thank you for the smiley face!

Leian: That's right, I'm an awful little tease. Shame, shame, shame. 'Yay! An update!' isn't always original, but it does make me smile to know that some people yay when I update. Fine maybe an overstatement for their relationship status, but somebody has to be optimistic about them—even if you're not in the story. Personally, I'm not sure if I want them to get along fine or not… And, as always, things are never what they seem. I love that theme; more than the surface and blah, blah, blah. But, admit it, Leian: even if all I do is hint, you enjoy the hinting. I'd rather have it in bits and pieces (like Chimera) than the whole plot falling in my lap. Thanks for the review!

Martha: Well, you got it in a nutshell. No this is me in a nutshell!…sorry, Austin Powers moment It's always fun to hate the boy, but it's kinda hard when the hatred is groundless, huh? But if you do want a reason to hate him, you could always remember that, although he never did any of those things, he never took the time to explain why he was so mean. I hope that's enough!

Zabella: Didn't I tell y'all to stop asking for the prevention of certain people's deaths? I have no control over the plot this late in the story—please understand that. It's a snowball now. A rolling, unstoppable, fluffy (are snowball's fluffy? I don't think so. Any who) gigantic snowball. But you are right about Valdis loving and needing her. Insane, isn't he?

Vague Verity

Chapter 15

"The devil, depend upon it,

~*~*~*~

New York

The scene was so morbidly joyous when she arrived. Everybody so courteous, taking her luggage. Laughing at the clumsy, gigantic dog. Studying the bizarre turtle. And they were all there for the same reason. But they refused to acknowledge it.

And when she walked into the bedroom, strangely hushed compared to the guests outside, she understood why. Because it would crash down the heady feeling this gathering produced. Ruin the fun. And because even the new mother refused to see it dead in the eye.

Maria was sleeping when she opened the door and quietly closed it behind her. Valdis had seen her enter from the kitchen, but didn't stop her, although any one else was not allowed to accompany her. After all, she had a small role in defeating the Night World. She deserved some privileges.

Hannah shook head, unsure what for. Maybe for the silliness of it all. These were Daybreakers. They knew better. They knew, just like she did, that running away from Death didn't postpone it. And yet there they sat, eating and joking as if everything was going to be all right. A small part didn't blame them. They weren't Old Souls. They didn't fully comprehend…and nobody wanted to think of their first loss since the Final Battle.

Silently, she approached the bed, careful to avoid the equipment. The patient looked so ironically vulnerable. Maria wasn't a Daybreaker, she rationalized. Even when she helped them, she wasn't one, and she never wanted to be. But it was still the Circle's loss, and no other world could fully claim her. The frail, sickly girl on the bed wasn't wholly part of the unknowing human world. And, despite her stay with them, she was never completely Night World either. And Circle Daybreak never really had all of Maria. But it didn't mean they didn't love her.

Usually a healthy tan, Maria's pale face winced in slumber. After some tossing, she finally opened her eyes, leaving Hannah relieved. The eyes were still the same, thank heavens. Still the same lively flames.

"Well," her small friend began, with a surprisingly strong voice. "Now it's complete. I guess I can die now."

"Maria," she reproved gently. "You know Thierry's working hard—"

"I know," she interrupted, smiling. There was a bitter sweetness to it that Hannah didn't like. "But I'm glad you're here. The Redferns are driving me crazy."

"What is it with you and that family?" Maria shrugged.

"I don't think we'll ever get along. Oh, and you know what's alarming?" Hannah stood unsure of what to say to that. Many things were alarming in this situation. Maria continued as if she didn't notice the girl's discomfort. "Every time the Draches come from the Plaza, Apollo goes straight to Gwendolyn. And Valdis has already told me that Apollo thinks she's pretty. The little brat's a cradle robber!"

"Maria! Galen could probably hear you through that wall."

"Like I give a rat's ass." The former wild power shifted, very gingerly Hannah noticed, so that she faced the living room as if she could see through the wall. "No Drache is ever going to date my daughter!"

"Damn straight," was Galen's muffled, hearty reply. Then they heard the laughter of the other occupants. Maria looked stormy, and settled back into her supine position.

"I don't like them here," she confided seriously to Hannah. "It makes everything so final. Might as well bury me already." Hannah frowned, disliking the frankness. "Make them go away."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Ask them to," Maria pleaded. "They respect you. Everybody does."

"They respect you too," she responded, and Maria rolled her eyes. Then she was rudely shoved aside because she was in the way of the bedside table, where the remote control resided.

"No time for fiction," Maria said curtly. "Time for Trading Spaces," she explained as she surfed through the channels. Hannah watched, puzzled at the abrupt change in manners. She didn't know how Valdis lived with her.

Then, at the end of the show, the girl was startlingly serious again. Hannah was just about to leave her to her rest when Maria grabbed her hand, with very little strength. "Listen," she began quietly, almost whispering. "They're gonna say things about me. About how I'm acting weird about the babies and all."

"Maria, they don't hate you," she assured her, squeezing her arm affectionately. Maria didn't register it.

"And it's not like I care what they think. But you're kinda important to me. So…I just wanted to let you know that…I have a good reason. For not seeing them."

"The visitors?"

"The babies," she stated, as if it were obvious. "I don't hate them. I…" she faltered, and then took a deep breath. "I did hate them, for a little while. But it's not like that now…you don't want to get too close you know, to something you're going to leave. That's why you don't form an attachment to somebody while on vacations. You hafta to leave them."

Again she squeezed the thin arm, uncertain she could trust her words for a moment. Hannah saw how sure she was, doubtless of the outcome. But then again, Thierry was working hard to find a solution. And she had strong faith in her soul mate. "I'll go visit them now," she said instead, with a warm smile.

"Gwendolyn Hannah Eldson," Maria grinned to herself. "She looks sort of like you. Blonde and everything."

Hannah gave a tremulous smile and left the room. As soon as she closed the door, she heard quick footsteps behind her.

"Hey Snow."

"Hey Snow," she said back, turning to Kyros. "Maria said it was okay to see the babies." It took ten minutes to find out which room it was. Only one to see the door he pointed at. Nine to say that, yes, the flight was fine and then to listen of his opinion of the problems of today's airliners. Then the fox decided to join Hannah in the nursery.

She first saw little Gwendolyn, laying peacefully in a pink cradle. To her surprise, she wasn't sleeping, but staring up, hypnotized by the toys hanging from the mobile above. Hannah turned to Kyros questioningly for the strange behavior. He only grinned in response and said, "Watch this."

The boy wound the key above the heavenly themed mobile, and tinkly sounds filled the room. The angels and clouds rotated slowly. Gwendolyn Hannah let out a shout of laughter, and clapped her chubby hands. The squeals of joy weren't done, and continued for sometime, even after the music faded.

"She's adorable," Hannah breathed, and then frowned. "But where's the other baby's crib?"

Kyros mirrored her expression. "Don't you know? He doesn't need one."

"Why?" For an answer, Kyros pointed to a corner of the room, where for the first time Hannah noticed a pitifully tiny infant. She approached it slowly, as if too loud a sound would harm the fragile thing. It wasn't in a crib because it was in a box, she realized. A depressing, plastic container with holes in the sides to allow its parents to touch it. But they couldn't hold it. The poor babe was riddled with tubes, and then Hannah saw why he was tucked away into a corner. Valdis Junior needed a space with many electrical outlets, because he depended on so many machines to live.

Cautiously, Hannah lifted a hand through one of the openings, and stroked the soft black hair. He was the very image of his mother; black haired, tawny skin, and utterly helpless.

"Kinda sad, huh?" Kyros asked behind her, knowing it was an understatement.

"Why didn't anybody mention this to Thierry?" she whispered angrily. "He's looking for help for Maria, he could something about Valdis too—"

"Because there's nothing to do," he answered, surprisingly gentle. "Javier said so, and he's the best we got. If the baby gets stronger, then they could help. But right now it's the waiting period." Hannah didn't move, still touching the incredibly silky strands. "Come on," he said finally, "you might as well eat."

"I'm not hungry," she replied automatically, but she allowed herself to be towed away any way. Kyros was adamant that she tried his mother's apple tarts. And they both knew it would not be wise to dwell on depressing matters.

~*~*~*~

They resumed the game again. He asked about her family.

"There's not much to it really. Mom and me, and Melissa."

"I guess you didn't have a father." He learned he wouldn't get in trouble for just making statements, and not asking more questions. Verity hadn't picked up on it.

"He died from lung cancer when I was two."

"You sound as if you don't miss him."

"Goodness, Adrian, I was two. Of course I don't."

"That's a little harsh," he objected. "He made you, and took care of you."

"Yes," she answered, with little remorse. "But he forgot to take care of himself. The man dug his own grave, leaving a single mother of two."

"You still sound so…" He didn't want to finish. To say that she sounded like himself would have been taken as an insult. "But now it's your turn."

Rita hesitated, because they were getting along relatively well. And because she had been wrong about something so dire, she was afraid she would be wrong about her next subject. But there was nothing to do but ask and see.

"I've just been wondering…did you love her?"

"Who? Tana? Now, Rita, we both know the answer that."

"No," she said quietly. "The woman in England." Rita heard him sigh, exasperated, and spoke more urgently, trying to explain why she had to bring it up. "You never answered her before, and it wouldn't be so awful if your extramarital affairs were for true love—"

"Verity," he interrupted tiredly. "Save your breath. And, I don't—what, I mean to say is…" She heard a sudden thump on the wall. She could imagine his hands balling into fists, slamming down on something. He had done so before. "Why?" he asked urgently. "Why do you have to bring it up? We're doing fine without bringing that up—"

"Because," she said, her voice just as desperate, "we have to. We just do, otherwise I'd just be pretending everything's okay…"

"Everything was okay! You didn't cheat on me, I didn't kill your sister…everything was fine."

"This is a game of truths," she returned quietly, pinching at her fingers. "We swore, Adrian. We swore on family." Rita didn't like the way her voice trembled, or the tingly fire on her hands. But most of all, she didn't like his anger. It scared her, the way it flared up so quickly, no warning whatsoever. She forgot how furious he could get.

"All right," he murmured, abruptly calm. He sounded exhausted. Defeated. "I was going to say that I just…I just didn't want to ruin that picture for you. Me, risking it all just to see my one true love in England…very noble."

"But?"

"But, it wouldn't be the truth. I didn't love her. She loved me, though, if that makes it any better. That's what she said, any way."

"It doesn't," she contradicted, her stomaching tying into knots. Rita told herself she had asked for it. It was too late to take the question back. But his words wounded her, despite whose fault it was. Somebody loved him, even though Tana did. The only consolation was that he didn't love that somebody, but married his soul mate.

He was still talking. "She was my betrothed. Before I met you. Before everything…"

"I guess that makes sense," she said neutrally. "A dragon needs another dragon, I suppose."

"Oh, no," he contradicted. "She wasn't a dragon. She was a witch."

"Your parents made a witch your betrothed?"

"It's not your turn," he pointed out wryly.

"Oh, I'm sorry—"

"It's all right. And stop doing that."

Rita sat, puzzled. Was he looking through the hole? She had told him not to do that, because it gave him an unfair advantage. "What?"

"Apologizing without meaning it. You only say sorry to avoid confrontation."

"Well, then you stop that. Analyzing me."

"Fine." There was a hint of laughter in his voice. "And, to answer you illegal question, yes. Her family was one of the few witch families who remained loyal to dragon rule."

"But, if you didn't love her, then why did you keep leaving?" She heard him shift uneasily.

"A sense of obligation, I think. She voluntarily joined me in my sleep, you know, instead of joining the witches. To take care of me when I woke up."

"As if you couldn't take care of yourself," she snorted derisively without thinking. Then Verity immediately bit her tongue.

"That's what I said!" he replied excitedly. "I told my parents that I didn't need a governess. After all, I was sixteen. Practically a man."

"But why didn't they listen?"

He didn't seem bothered by her outrageous disobedience to the game rules. "Back then, nobody would listen to a sixteen year old dragon with only three horns."

"What difference does that make?"

"Rita, I only have three horns. The normal number is four."

"So?"

"So," he answered, surprised , "I'm inadequate. One less means less of a dragon."

"That's silly," she scoffed.

"No it's not," he objected, sounding factual. "It makes sense. It made me weaker than my family."

"And now?"

"Now?" Apparently, he hadn't thought of now. "Now…I guess I'm the strongest."

"Good for you," she said proudly. "Overcoming the ill opinion of kin just because you're not as horny…oh dear, that came out wrong…"

"No." Thankfully, he ignored the slip of the tongue. "I'm the strongest now because they're all dead."

"Oh," she replied, disappointed. "That makes more sense."

"But the funny thing is, she wasn't there," he told her with dry humor. "When I woke up, I was all alone."

"Maybe she had another engagement."

"Doubt it. But, inconveniently enough, after our marriage, she contacted me. Said she was dying. That was why I left for England, because she was almost family, after all. And our parents were such good friends. You know," he began, sounding nostalgic, "now that I think of it, you and her were the only two whoever claimed love for me. But, she kinda scared me when she told me so—"

"Hmph," was all Rita said in return. "She took an awfully long time in dying."

"Rita," he rebuked. "You mustn't speak of the dead like that." Rita paused and thought, recalling Winnie's description for witches. They had spells for everything, she had said. Surely the neglectful fiancee would have had something for death.

"When did she die?"

"Remember our gala? The last one, I mean."

"Of course I do," she stated crisply. "It's the one where the little hussy actually came to my home—"

"Verity!" he exclaimed, evidently scandalized. "She never did that! Calida never came to Spain."

"Yes she was! She was at our gala. I spoke to her."

"You did not. I would have seen you. I was watching you all night."

"Well, then, you must have blinked for a long time, because we had the most unpleasant little chat. About how she enjoyed your visits to London, dirty little—"

"That's absurd. The only person you spoke to was my friend, Robert. He came down from London to the gala, I'm certain of that. Calida died during my visit before it."

"Calida," she said, privately believing it was the ugliest name ever, "chatted with me, and then saw you. Then the home wrecker walked towards you as if there were bongo drums banging to her pace. You know the type. Besides, I saw you staring at her."

"No," he stated firmly, now with cold knives in his voice. "The only thing I saw was you slipping off the wedding band. Sneaking away to the stables. As if it were all nothing."

"What?" Verity tried with every ounce of strength to check the rising fury, but his next words annihilated the dam entirely.

"I heard them fall to the ground. You acted as if what I gave to you was nothing. You preferred hay and a stupid boy than all I offered you. I saw it."

"Of all the hypocritical things to say—"

"You kissed him twice! Twice. Maybe I'd feel better if you screwed him. At least it would have just been physical then—but no. No, you give the world in your kisses. You give yourself. And to him, not your soul mate, you gave all of you twice."

"Kissed him twice, yes. And maybe kisses meant more than whatever you did with her. But, where I gave myself to you most of the time, and him twice, at least I gave. At least I left myself open once in a while. Jorge did too."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Marriage…or being soul mates…or being in love," she added ruefully, "Almost in love. You need participation on both sides you know. And Tana would give it all, and Jorge did too, but you." Rita laughed, embarrassed of the memories. "Stupid child. She imagined your effort for you. You didn't even try, for goodness' sake, but she'd imagine that you did."

"I don't understand," he said shortly.

"Yes, you do. You do, and you don't want to own up to it. Coward."

"All right, explain that one. Coward, how exactly?"

She hated his patronizing tone, and the way he could end his anger so abruptly. But something, maybe their link, allowed her to feel the thinness of his new tranquillity, and the bubbling ire underneath. All it would take was a few phrases, and he would lose control. And, goodness, she hated his control.

"It's so easy, isn't it, Adrian? To attack, and attack, but to block out any offense on your behavior? You left so many times, and Tana said nothing. You yelled at her so many times, and Tana would simply accept and apologize. You stared at her so—so coldly, while she gazed back with full adoration. Shame, shame on me for giving my all. While my soul mate gave nothing. You're afraid."

"Of what?" The restraint on his fury was tenuous, and crumbling fast.

"Criticism. You don't like hearing about your past mistakes, so you so charitably dwell on mine."

"I sat through all of that, didn't I?"

"Hearing, but not listening. Bravo, wonderful talent you've got there."

"You're not making any sense!"

"My goodness, do I have to spell it out? And Adrian, you really don't want me to spell it out," she warned mockingly.

"For god's fucking sake—"

"You failed," she told him clearly. "Of being a soul mate. And you don't want to hear about it. So you pretend you're wounded by my two minor kisses, and you visits to England were all for obligation. You play make believe that your protective ways didn't kill her every day because of your little regard for her emotions."

"You make it sound as if I abused you constantly."

"Of course not. There were the moments when you so generously threw a smile…when you wanted to share a bed. You failed, and you can't stand it. So, when you saw me in Anomina, you probably thought, 'Here's your chance Adrian. Go fix that failure, and you'll be perfect again.' There," she said when he hadn't responded. "I told you that you didn't want me to spell it out."

"God damn it all," he ground out.

"What now?" she asked pleasantly, cheered by having the upper hand.

"Too clever by half," he informed her darkly. "But you know what's the sadder part?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know. The fact that this failure is probably one of many you can't fix?"

"No. It's the fact that you're just like me." She would have leapt at him if it wasn't for the pesky bricks in the way.

"The heck I am." Verity was absolutely livid.

"No? So harsh on everybody but yourself. Thinking that you know better, so arrange everybody's life and emotions accordingly. What happened between you and Jared? The wolf you made love you, and then you cut him off when it wasn't convenient. It shows little regard for his emotions, doesn't it?"

"That's not true."

"And Smith? Sure, you turned hot and cold on him so many times. Cold whenever you didn't need him…or he showed he knew too much about you. And hot when you needed something. Comfort. His bed."

"That was completely different."

"Is it?"

"Yes," she spat. "It doesn't mean we're the same."

"Of course not. After all, I supposedly smothered my wife with my protective ways—oh. Oh wait a second. What about Melissa?"

"Don't you dare," she warned. "You're not fit to speak her name."

"Keeping her in her room, no fresh air—"

"For her own safety!"

"Making sure nobody else saw her—"

"She wasn't used to strangers!"

"And whose fault was that?" he lashed out, throwing aside the amicable tone. "People can get used to strangers, Verity, even the disabled ones. You never let her. And then you refused speech lessons."

"We had no money!"

"True, but is that what kept you from talking to her yourself? You couldn't afford a conversation with the sister who took care of you till your reached fourteen? Let's face it," he said viciously. "Even if you did have the money, you would have spent it on some college books for yourself."

"I'm not listening any more…"

Adrian inhaled deeply, and lost the sneering tone. Attacking her wasn't the way to start a half decent relationship, and, unlike her, he wasn't very successful with it. Distractedly, he wondered if he was just as stubborn back in the day.

"Look," he began uneasily when she interrupted quietly.

"Maybe…you were close to right, on some parts. Not all. Just some…and you were close, not exactly… What's so funny?" She asked indignantly when he released a soft chuckle.

"Nothing—I was just sitting here, starting to think you were like me, the old me, and the whole bloody mess would start all over again."

"And?"

"And," he finished gravely, "you're not. And I'm thankful for that."

"Oh…" Rita sat, unsure of what to say. She was surprised what this man could do to her with mere words. One minute, she was practically combusting with rage, and the next, she was bewildered speechless. Soul mate's prerogative, she supposed.

"My question," he told her abruptly, shattering her delicate confusion. "Is…and you might not like it," he warned.

"We never like the questions," she responded dully.

"Good point…all right, here it is: Did you enjoy your marriage to Bryan? Better than yours to me, I mean. What I mean to say is…which husband do you prefer? I know, by all first appearances, the answer is obvious, but—"

"Oh, Adrian, stop rambling will you? It's very annoying."

"Right."

"And I don't really know how to answer that question, because they were so very different," she said apprehensively. Rita heard something very much like a snarl of impatience from his side, but decided to ignore it. "And Bryan was, obviously much nicer—"

"So, Smith, then," he answered for her in a falsely perfunctory way.

"No," she contradicted immediately, and then bit her lip. "In, some ways, yes, but if you think about it—"

"Stop rambling," he said curtly. "It's annoying."

"Fine," she snapped. "The only I can answer is saying that I didn't cry for him. When I saw he was dead, and even after I woke up, I didn't miss him and I didn't cry. Tried to, of course, but failed. Does that make you feel better?"

He sat flabbergasted for a few seconds. "Uh…sort of, yes—"

"Well you shouldn't. Because where I stopped caring for him enough to make me cry even if he tried to hurt me, Tana did care for you. And you did try to hurt her. Does that make you feel better?" Verity heard the unprecedented belligerence in her voice and stopped short. All of a sudden she was tired of it. "Goodness gracious, Adrian, listen to us."

"You're the one who's talking," he pointed out sulkily.

"I mean us. We don't even like each other. We can't even stay in separate rooms and get along. How is it that we're soul mates?"

"Beats me." Adrian didn't sound at all bothered by it.

"But," she pursued, a little puzzled. "Isn't there supposed to be something between us? Chemistry, electricity, physics…don't comment on the last one," she requested, embarrassed. "I mean, Maria told me all the stories about her and her soul mate friends. But ours doesn't sound like theirs, where we hate each other but secretly love each other. I really do detest you. And, if you get to the bare bones about it and drop that silly sense of duty, you don't like me either."

"Well, I—"

"Adrian."

"All right. To be truthful, I think it's a damn shame you turned into some deformed form of me—not physically of course—and even more of a damn shame that I can't fix it. And, hell, I had no idea I was this irritating in Spain."

"Oh shut up, I'm not you. You're you. I'm me."

"Thank you for that Sherlock. I meant, and this is very far fetched theorizing here, is that the present you is a sad result of my treatment."

"My goodness, I can't believe you still manage to maintain such a high opinion of yourself."

"What did I do now?" Adrian, who had little social experience, wondered if all males suffered the flaw of perpetually, but accidentally, offending the opposite sex.

"You taking credit for me? It would be nice to say I was a completely rotten kid and it was all your fault, but that wouldn't be true. I'm not going to sit here and let you get credit for my intelligence, my patience, my—"

"Fine, I get it. I told you it was far fetched."

"Good. Now it's my turn."

"You just asked a million questions," he protested.

"It's my turn," she repeated firmly, although Rita realized it was unfair. But she simply had to get this out. "And, for a few minutes, disregard that part about us hating each other. Which version do you like better: me or Tana?"

~*~*~*~

New York

"So let me get this straight," she began slowly, and a sadly weaker voice. Kyros sat fidgeting in a chair beside her. He wanted to yell back in defense, but it was a universal rule that one mustn't yell at the sickly. It would have earned him a punch from somebody. "My friend runs away and elopes with the rude punk vampire. Months later, they find the icky body of Bryan Smith with no clue as to where she went…and Thierry does nothing?"

"You see, it didn't look like nothing when we—"

"Oh wait," Maria realized. "That doesn't sound like Thierry. It sounds like somebody didn't tell him that a poor innocent human might have been left stranded in Tahiti. Who could that somebody be, I wonder…"

"All right! All right, I screwed up, minorly—"

"Minorly," she repeated. "The girl could be living on the exotic streets as we speak, cleaning out the exotic gutters, and the man says minorly."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Go to Tahiti, or wherever the poor thing is now. She's only learned French you know. I don't think she knows any other language. Spanish, maybe, but if they speak Spanish in Tahiti, I don't know…"

Kyros stood, ready to leave, and then paused. "But…I hafta have Thierry's permission."

"And then you'll be fired, or suspended, for withholding information. Just go, and find her. Take a partner to make sure you won't get involved with some foreign slut."

"For god's sake, she's fine. Why doesn't anybody understand? Verity could probably land in hell and have Satan taking orders by the end of the week! She's not the type that needs rescuing!"

Maria understood that Kyros hadn't intentionally been callous. He wasn't exactly the type to purposely forget a girl's existence because she had scorned him. But the boy did have too much faith in a sixteen year old's capabilities. Something would have to convince him to correct it.

It was simply a look. She hadn't used it since pre Battle times. All she did was glare heavily, but she suspected something else was conveyed; Kyros abruptly consented and stood.

Showing some dignity, he paused in the door way. "This is no guarantee I'll do anything. Just a bit of investigating."

"Thank you Kyros, for promising to rescue Rita in the case of my death."

"What?" Kyros was understandably startled.

"Lord knows that all deathbed promises are sacred, and must be kept at all costs," she continued nonchalantly, as if this topic had been going on for some time. "God speed on your mission."

"This isn't a mission! I'm not rescuin' anybody!"

He tried to argue, but, as always, Maria remained stubborn until her words nearly physically pushed him out of the apartment. Maria watched him go, speculating that people and missions would not go missing or awry at all if the Circle Daybreak was completely run and operated by women. It was just good dumb luck that the men who were involved weren't complete idiots, or void of modicums of honor.

~*~*~*~

"You," he finally answered.

"Truly?"

"No question of a doubt." Verity said nothing. It was after all, a game of truths, and they swore on family.

"Verity?"

"What?" she asked dreamily, absurdly pleased by his answer.

"I think it's time we try to escape out of here."

"Kay," she consented softly, surprising him with her submissive manner. He had been expecting a rational protest; but he did not know that, once again, he had once again succeeded in shocking her.

A part of her confounded the man for doing that…and another part applauded him, the disgustingly feminine part.

~*~*~*~

can sometimes do a very gentlemanly thing."

Robert Louis Stevenson

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