Yay!--Back again!

Warning: I think this chapter could be considered the 'darkest' out of the chapters so far--as well as the longest. Sorry for the way this chapter ends though . . . Oh well,'til next time then.

Murrue woke up to the soft patter of rain streaming against the large bedroom window. The clouds outside cast a grey tone over the room that couldn't help but lower your spirits with one glance. Murrue forced a smile to her natural lips as she blindly reached over to wake the one beside her up—except her hand caught air instead.

"Mu?" She cocked her head, surprised by the emptiness and almost regretfully forced herself out of the toasty, warm bed. It sent a shiver up her spine when her feet touched the cold wooden floor; it seemed almost unnatural. "Mu . . . ?" She called out again, warily making her way out of the bedroom, half expecting him to be lounging about with a coffee mug stuck to his face, but when the door opened and no one was there . . . It was quiet, still, even the hum of the rain was lost.

Murrue glanced about the kitchen and living room once more before going over towards the staircase. She shivered, a cold draft had hit her, the wind blowing straight through her night-gown. Glancing around, looking for he source, that's when she saw it.

The front door, grandly set straight down the steps hung open ajar. The rain was pouring in, soaking the wooden floor, somehow turning red as it pooled. The door was held open by something pale but something dark and mostly coming from outside.

A hand.

A hand holding a small, black box.

Tears started coming to her face, cascading over cheeks, she didn't need to see who was outside.

That's when she heard it, the war going on outside, and she screamed.

---

Murrue woke with a start, a film of cold sweat plastered her body as she tried to calm herself down. Her head was blaring, echoing that cry over again. She was so lost, Murrue had no idea if that came out of her mouth as well.

It was just a dream—just a dream . . .

"Mu?" She finally gasped, reaching out for the close, reassuring hold. She reached—except her hand caught air instead.

Her throat started to constrict, the familiarity of it all was too unnerving. Murrue threw the covers off her warm legs and ran over to the closed bedroom door. Calling his name again, more sharper than before, she swung the door open, heart jumping farther up her throat at the empty kitchen. She ran almost full speed to the top of the stairs, chillingly surprised when she saw that the door wasn't open and that even though it was cloudy outside, it hadn't started to rain.

Her heart still beat unnaturally in her chest as Murrue turned around and weakly made her way over to the counter. Something small and propped up was waiting for her, she noticed.

When Murrue came close enough it came out to be a small pad of paper, the first sheet scribbled all over with blue. She couldn't keep the awkward smile off her lips as she read.

"Sorry,

Called me in early but didn't have heart to wake you.

Back by Six,

Promise."

Mu had drawn a large, cheesy heart before signing his name; he even took the time to scribble it in with the blue pen he was writing with before leaving.

"Weird," Murrue muttered with a smile.

---

Six o'clock rolled around and Murrue was still waiting quietly in the kitchen, eyes frozen to the clock, watching the minutes pass. When it showed 5:59 her heart skipped a beat before slowing down. Mu's late; her face screwed up.

The clock behind her noisily broke the silence, beginning to count out the six chimes 'til 6 o'clock.

—Two—

—Three—

The doorbell rang in tune to the clock, and, regretfully by instinct, Murrue quickly ran down the stairs to see who could be at the door.

—Five— She swung the door open, heart stopping in confusion.

—Six—

"Pick a number 1 through 10!" He almost yelled with a grin spread clear across his face, leaning lopsidedly in the doorway.

"Mu!"

"Aww, come on, pick a number," he pleaded playfully.

"Uh-Eight?"

"Eight . . . that'd be this!" He grinned royally as he pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. Every flower Murrue knew of could be found in that bouquet; it had everything. Surely surprised, it took a while for it to fully register in the woman's mind. She reached out for the flowers, numbly taking them from his hands, bringing them to her nose to breathe in their captivating scent.

"Beautiful," she murmured into the blossoms.

"Beautiful flowers for the only flower most beautiful in my life," Mu replied softly as he somehow gave her a sweet kiss. He had a daisy in his other hand that he swiftly placed in Murrue's hair as he spoke.

He closed the door as rain started sprinkling down. When he went to hang his jacket up, that's when Murrue finally came back to her senses. Staring at the flowers in her hand, her eyebrow arched suspiciously.

"How long'd it take to think up that line?"

"Huh?" Mu spun around to her.

"Surely you didn't think that right up on the spot, so . . ." Dawning covered Mu's laughing face as he figured it out.

"If you must know, I thought it out while I was getting the flowers," he replied smartly.

"Then why'd you have me pick a number?" She pressed.

"Well, if you picked five or under, I'd give you that one flower then the bouquet while six or higher I'd give you the bouquet first. That and it was just fun. Your reaction was hilarious by the way." He grinned when she sighed; he had won again. "Sorry about leaving this morning. Some technical difficulties and they had to re-input all the data. Anyway, let's go get some water for those," Mu reminded, starting up the stairs.

"Mu . . . ?" Her soft voice caught him in his tracks.

"Yes?"

"Why are you trying so hard . . . ?" Murrue asked, amber eyes confused and questioning.

"I'm 'trying so hard'?"

"The flowers today, the bracelet you gave me Monday, that dinner thenight before. . . You didn't have to . . . I already agreed to marry you; in two weeks—you've already won me over, Mu! You don—" He stopped her protest with a long, slow kiss. When he broke off, he smiled at the pink that had started to gather on her cheeks.

"What do you want for dinner? . . . I believe it's my turn to cook," he spoke as if to the air.

"You're changing the subject again!" Murrue huffed angrily though she couldn't cover her smile.

"Whatever you want to talk about, we'll talk about, Murrue. Just . . . over dinner. You can't say you're not hungry," he mused, knowing full well her stomach was growling. She covered her sides in embarrassment. "Come on, let's go upstairs." Mu offered out his hand for hers, smiling placidly.

Murrue followed, somehow calm. He knew and she knew the answers for their questions. But . . . as for her dream . . .

That can wait, she told herself, he doesn't have to know, not yet, even though he'd want to.

---

Mu sat up in the kitchen, staring out at the starry sky through the crystal windows. He couldn't sleep again, and instead of waking Murrue, he decided to move out of the bedroom to do his thinking.

He was thinking about a lot these days, he realized. It wasn't that he didn't think before, its just his thoughts had never haunted him before. He sat in the quiet darkness of the night; mind making no stops, for it kept running and running. The only thing that broke his train of thought came abruptly, sounding loud from his room.

He jumped to his feet.

A crashing sound splintered the silence. The unmistakable sound of shattering glass echoed in the vast house. Without a falter Mu rushed his way in, eyes meeting with the wet, ruined remains of one of his favorite crystal vases scattered across the floor, flowers from that day clumped where they fell, everything soaked in a pool of water.

Murrue, herself, didn't wake at the crash; she was still twisted up in the covers. Mu rushed around to the other side of the bed where the broken glass wasn't and tried to wake the shaking woman. She'd knocked over the vase in sleep and was still twisting and turning violently.

"Murrue?" He whispered, cautiously moving his hands closer to her. She must not have heard him. She didn't wake up. He spoke louder. "Murrue!"

It's got to be a bad dream, he tried to reassure himself but instead he realized how scared he really was.

"Murrue!" He shouted, shaking her awake. Her face of suppressed pain instantly melted into shock and surprise when her eyes shot open. It took only a moment for her amber eyes to register Mu as the one standing over her. Without hesitation she grasped the closest thing she could and made a cement hold around his bare waist.

"Just . . . don't move . . ." She muttered weakly as she nestled her head closer to his supportive warmth. ". . . Please . . . don't."

Mu froze, eyes wide as he stared down at her. He wanted to pat her hair down, but he knew that wasn't what she needed. Instead he reached behind him to unclasp her threaded fingers, instantly guilty when she made a noise from the depths of her that promoted pain, anger, surprise. Thick hands wrapped around her wrists, he was easily able to pull her body up so she was almost kneeling on the mattress.

Mu moved forward. To kiss her with the utmost care, he reassured her he was there. He slowly slid them both back onto the bed with Murrue still clinging to him.

He could clean up the glass later because he laid there through the night in her arms. She never let him go--even after falling into a deep sleep.

---

Mu woke up to an empty bed. It had somehow gone to raining again even though the night before was clear and crisp. Somehow he wobbled his way slowly over to the door, half asleep. The door to the kitchen opened up to the gray, neutral room. Murrue huddled over a mug of coffee, tentatively drinking, sitting down at the table.

"Morning," he yawned, running his fingers through his thick blond hair.

"I'm sorry," she replied in a softly troubled voice that woke up Mu's recollection of the night before.

"What's there to be sorry about?" Her amber eyes traveled over to the towel laying flat beside her, shards of glass resting peacefully as if arranged for a museum exhibit.

"I knocked it over, didn't I? I'm sorry."

"That's not what you're sorry for," he told her coldly making his way over to the counter to pour himself some pre-made coffee.

"You're right," Murrue trembled, forcing herself to go on. Her face, though, found her steaming, swirling coffee more interesting. "I-I'm sorry . . . for, uh, . . ."

"You know," Mu interrupted her, "you can tell me anything, but you can't tell me everything." Her gaze shot up, strained face cracking into a smile.

"Thank you . . ." Mu smiled back, eyes resting on a piece of paper pinned to the corner. His face broke out in a misplaced grin.

"You're gonna hate me for changing the subject, but," he picked the note up and waved it childishly in the air. "We really need the things on this list. You know, the basics for survival—food, water, coffee . . ." Murrue held in a laugh. "So, what do you say, want to come with to get them?" Murrue grinned at Mu's playful side that he couldn't possibly hide. He was always like that—so immature it works.

"You're casual to a fault, you know that right?" She revealed, eyebrow arching with her revelation.

"And if you knew that, would it change anything?"

"No," she laughed. "I'd go with you—except—I can't."

"You . . . can't?"

"No . . . see, um, I have other, uh, 'errands' to run . . ." Murrue blushed, turning her face away from his prodding gaze.

"What other errands?"

"Like . . . like getting my dress fitted," she burst, suddenly brash; Mu broke into one of his roguish grins as he picked her out of the chair, 'helping' her to her 'feet.'

"Yes, yes, we can't have you without a wedding dress on your wedding day," he scoffed as she struggled to get him to put her down, laughing all the while.

---

Mu casually walked down the busy city street, umbrella in hand on Murrue's orders it had started to rain again. He had a bit of trouble with it though because she insisted he use the pink one because all the others were broken or lost. When he retorted that she herself needed an umbrella as well she simply said she'd call a cab. Unlike him, she only had one place to stop by while he had a few different stores to visit. Sadly, Mu lost that round and was now walking around town with a pink umbrella with no girl to share it with.

Life was tough.

Thankfully it stopped raining while in his first store so without hesitation, Mu closed the umbrella for another use. He had only stepped into one store so far and he was already tired. What he bought though kept his interest as he read the back of the box thoroughly.

"Yo, Mu!" Someone's voice caught his attention: familiar yet not readily known. Mu turned to see Kira walking steadily towards him. He smiled, for he hadn't seen Kira since he proposed, around seven months before.

"Kid," Mu called back, seamlessly sliding the box into his deep coat pocket in hopes Kira didn't see.

"How's it going with you and Murrue? Two weeks and counting!" The boy reminded with a fake smile.

"Great. Things couldn't be better!"

"Really?" Kira cast a suspicious look at his former Commander. "Then, what're the sleeping pills for?" In truth, Kira did see what Mu slid into his pocket and it made the boy almost nervous.

Mu was taken aback for only a moment before sighing and turning halfway to the side, smiling knowingly. His hand, still stuck in his pocket, lightly traced the edges of the box of 'sleeping pills.' Actually, they were dreamless sleeping pills for Murrue in case she ever wanted them. His mind vividly flashed back to the night before and his light blue eyes started to water, if only slightly. It was the reason he was 'trying so hard.'

"I'm having second-thoughts," Mu announced with a half-hearted smile.

"You!" Kira was surprised; he didn't get it.

"Yes, me . . . I'm the one having the second-thoughts, Kid."