Thanks for the positive reviews… still don't have a plan for this story so we'll see where my muse takes me with this one. Putting in some more clues as to what happened in the first chapter, but you still won't get the whole idea. There's no action in this one so it may be a little boring. As always, enjoy.

I'm doing this for fun, OK?

Prisoners of the Past

…And so the plot thickens…

"Family, friends, all loved ones gathered here on this sad occasion. Today we do not mourn a loss, but celebrate a life…" Milliardo tuned out the rest of the priest's speech, not wanting to hear his euphemisms or blessings. Death was final. No amount of happy thoughts could erase it.

Five days after her death still didn't make it any easier to accept.

It was his fault plain and simple.

If there had been more security. If he had seen the intruder. If he hadn't been so caught up in his thoughts.

If.

If.

If.

Woulda, coulda, shoulda.

He shook his head to stop his train of thoughts, at the same time shaking strands of platinum hair that shielded his turbulent eyes from view. Feeling guilty wouldn't bring her back either.

But I'll be damned if that assassin lives to kill someone else…

Behind the young monarch stood five younger men, all around the age of 20 with very stern, unreadable expressions. Each where the chief commanders for different divisions of the Cinq Kingdom security forces. Each of the knew Milliardo very well.

They knew he wanted revenge. And he was not the only one.

At relatively young ages, they were five hardened men who lived through war, death, destruction and wanted no more of it. Individually they took it personally that this funeral could have been avoided. If they hadn't been concerned with Milliardo's detached demeanor and blank expression before the announcement, maybe they would have been more alert.

Relena stood beside her brother, her head bowed. She knew he didn't want this marriage, and neither did she. But she would have never imagined this happening. Guilt nagged at her, the back of her mind saying that maybe she projected her feelings too much. Maybe it was all a reflection of what she wished deep down. Not death, never that. But for her brother to be free of the obligations which were his by birth. For him to be happy.

As the priest continued his eulogy, an inconspicuous man dressed in all black, suit, tie, hat came up to Milliardo and whispered something into his ear. The monarch nodded gravely. Without a word he turned his back to the priest, the crowd, the coffin. He couldn't stand being there with so many conflicting feelings threatening to drive him insane.

An escort consisting of his five security chiefs walked him to the limo waiting, which sped off into the horizon as soon as he got in.

*****

In a small room, inaccessible to most of the general traffic walking through the Cinq Kingdom hospital, a patient slowly opened their eyes for the first time in almost 5 days.

She'd had several random moments of lucidity during her stay, but each were fleeting, lasting no more than a few seconds before she was too weak to keep awake.

Now as she fully regained consciousness, it was a struggle for her just to open her eyes and adjust to the dim florescent lighting.

She became aware, feeling more than seeing, of two presences coming closer to her room. A small click signaled that the door had been opened. Some taps and shuffles on the linoleum meant the people came inside.

"Your highness, she might not be awake-" a mellow voice began in the tone that all doctors use. A hint of warning mixed in with some ambiguity, poured over with sensible reasoning and empathy.

"It doesn't matter. I still want to see her." This tone was much more definite. A command that reeked of imperiousness. Confidence. All bred from the high position of the speaker. That voice… I know that voice…

"All right. You have 10 minutes." The doctor would bend but not break. Another click meant that the door was closed.

The strange presence with the familiar voice walked closer. She heard the footsteps stop right by her side. She wished for the strength to open her eyes wider. They were not answered. Her body was growing weaker from being awake and thinking about moving, much less moving at all.

She decided to just wait for what he'd do. If only she could keep her mind working… But everything was becoming fuzzy… lights flashed behind her eye lids…and the spinning wouldn't stop…she braced herself as she fell deeper and deeper into the dark, bottomless pit…

*****

Milliardo stared down into the face of the women that he once knew, and almost left him forever.

The doctor had said that her gunshot wound was very serious, but not critical. The minute differences between the two levels were beyond him, but he took it as a good sign that she would recover to almost full health.

It was short-lived.

As of the moment, the surgery was inconclusive. They couldn't even give a the percentage chance she had to live.

And that scared the hell out of him.

He didn't want to lose her for a second time. Possibly the last time.

He stared into her pale face, and tried to will her to open her eyes. Give him some sort of recognition that she knew he was there with her. There was no response.

Instead he continued to stare at her face. Dark circles outlined her closed eyes. Her cheekbones protruded more than usual given her reduced food intake. It was hard to picture the radiant and glowing face he remembered in the gaunt shell that was lying on the bed before him.

He thought back to the last time he saw her. Two, maybe three years ago? Why try and kid himself? He remembered to the hour he last saw her face. It seemed like much longer. Memories of those times always filled him with regret. The past few months could have been completely avoided. The intrusive media, his aloofness and the pain he caused in those close to him, the assassination plot…

None of them would've have happened if she hadn't left the Cinq two years ago. Just disappeared without a trace.

When she came to he would be there. This time around she wouldn't run away. He get his questions answered. Until then…

"Sweet dreams, Lucrezia."

Ha I love writing cliffhangers. As a writer they're great, but as a reader I can't stand it. Anyway, I'm in writer mode now. Sorry about the delay and then this being so short. Actually I never write long chapters, but that's for another time. Happy Holidays everyone. And please review, I like feedback (who doesn't?)