She had been such a naive woman.

In all her years of military training she had not been prepared for this.

He had promised her, and she like an idiot, had believe him. You could say it all began after Maes death. He had become a pitiful shadow of what he had once been. The flame was flickering. He needed her, and like the pitiful fool she was, she couldn't resist his call.

To say the least, he used her.

For one night she was his ecstasy. She was the sensation of being hopelessly drunk. The next morning she was discarded.

Alone.

Unneeded.

Just like she expected it to be. Of course, the optimist in one never dies. She thought, if only for a second, that she'd awake, and he'd be by her side. His warmth assuring her that it had not been an empty gesture of intimacy.

But it had been just that, and the only one to blame was she.

Here she was all alone.

Empty.