In fact, I think this is the longest of the chapters. And I must say, it kind of gets a bit wordy.

Gotta love odd love stories written by a girl who can't write romance . . . (something fishy going on here)

I'll update soon.--The next/ last of Part 2/ 8th/ last/ etc.chapter's already written and as a warning, it's gonna be a shorty

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

"What? Why would you—what about Murrue?"

"Murrue . . ." Mu repeated, almost relishing the sound of her name on his lips. His cheeks started to pink, if ever so slightly, gaze diverted from Kira's, in the awkwardness of the situation. "I love her . . . with all my heart, I do, but . . ."

"But what?"

"If one of us was to—"

"Don't think that!" Kira exclaimed quickly, caught off guard by the direction the conversation was taking.

"I have to!" Mu retorted, laughter lost. "If one of us was to die . . . I don't know what I would do. I mean, losing her would be losing everything, of course, but if she was to lose me—and I didn't come back—What wou— . . . !"

"Mu . . ."

"Being engaged is easy . . ." He replied, quiet and still. "Take off a stupid ring and it's over. But getting married? That entails a whole lot more! It was hard enough before—I don't think we'll get through this next jump, Kira . . . What—what are we gonna do . . .?" It was like Mu lost all sense of who it was he was taking into his confidence. Awkwardness was the last thing from his mind. Kira sighed.

"For a question like that, you should take it up with your fiancée, Mu."

"But—"

"In my opinion, it all comes down to one question with one answer," Kira replied quietly, fixing up his umbrella as it had started to rain once more:

". . . 'What's worse: never getting married and possibly losing her, or saying 'I do' with the knowledge one of you will be lost down along the line?' Think about it. And maybe I'll see you in two weeks."

---

The next week was simple, generic; it went by without known incident. Of course, since they had both taken two weeks off work, one week before and one week after the big day, the Military was squeezing them for every penny they were worth. Needless to say, Mu and Murrue didn't see each other much.

Every time he did get a glimpse into her deep eyes or a kiss from her sweet lips, Mu's thoughts reverted back to his from before and Kira's simplistic, haunting response. He'd done nothing—not yet, and in truth, he was still so afraid to face it.

He wasn't the only one; Murrue had been unknowingly avoiding her fiancé as well. Though, she wished she hadn't.

That day, with the calendar already checked off—a week left till 'then'—Mu arrived home earlier than usual before her, giving him time spent alone inside the empty house. It was always like this around when his thoughts attacked—why he had kept himself busy the past few days.

The creaking sound of the front door opening was the welcome sound he needed. Murrue was home. Somehow, he found himself grinning as he watched her climb the stairs to the kitchen.

"Good Afternoon," he greeted playfully, surprising even himself. His blue eyes scanned her worn face. "Hard day?"

"Yes. Very," she sighed, finding a way to give him a light kiss, missing his mouth drowsily. It was obvious she wanted the couch more than anything at the moment.

"You shouldn't tire yourself out so much, Murrue," he warned with a smile, finding it almost amusing how she plopped herself into the full cushions. "But, as good news, only a few more days of work left for us in a while. I can't wait. What about you Murrue?"

Mu waited for her to reply, anything would have been fine, even a 'shut up, I'm tired,' except he got nothing. He cocked his head, making his way closer to the couch. "Murrue . . . ?"

No movement.—at all.

"Murrue!"

---

He watched helplessly, eyes scouring over the half-conscious, sweating woman, wishing there was more he could do than just giving her fever medicine. Murrue shifted under the almost sticky covers of the bed in her sickness. Hopefully, her temperature was going down. He pat her shoulder lovingly reassuring, but pulled back, quietly cursing to himself, the instant he realized he had started to trace her sultry outline with his hand.

Stupid! Stupid! She's sick!

"I'll get you some water," Mu told her quickly. He started making his way to the door, but Murrue weakly reached out and just grabbed the back of his loose shirt.

". . . ugh . . . wait . . . Mu . . ." Was all she could get out in a weak whisper that spun him around.

"Huh?" It brought the man closer with questioning eyes. Murrue etched herself back on the bed, and, with a stiff arm, lifted the covers up pleadingly. He froze, trying hard to keep his eyes off of her half-unbuttoned nightgown by staring at her soft, tired face. She took advantage of his stiffening, grabbed his wrist, and with one forceful tug, pulled him down into the mattress. Murrue let the covers fall lightly on the both of them.

". . . cold," she murmured as she snuggled even closer to him. Mu just laid there, stiff as a board, eyes shut tight, feeling her quick, hurried breaths dance across his neck. 'Thoughts' that had begun to seep into his mind were being furiously forced back.

Stop! She's sick, she's sick, she's—

It was like she had been reading his mind because before he could do anything, she wrapped her arms around him and pushed her lips to his.

Mu tried to resist her, but the harder he fought the quicker he was being pulled in: by her taste, her scent, her feel. He even went as far to try to tell her to 'stop,' but when his lips opened, she immediately deepened. Hope was lost and he willingly gave in, returning the embrace, having all sense leave and letting his body take over.

---

It was quiet that morning, quieter than he would have liked, but he couldn't get everything, could he. I mean, he was already going to get married to her, what more could he want?

Closure. His mind answered for him.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to get it," Mu muttered aloud, sipping his routine morning coffee. He wasn't hungry but the smell of breakfast filled the crisp kitchen with Murrue's untouched plate. He glanced at the door of his bedroom, thinking about who was restlessly sleeping on the other side.

He'd already called Murrue in sick for work, and after a bit of smooth-talking, called himself in also so he could stay by her side. Mu sat in his thoughts until the click of the door woke him up.

Then again . . .

"Good Morning," she greeted dimly, trying hard to hide the weakness, but he could see it. No problem.

"What are you doing up?" He asked.

"I have to go to work," she tried to smile, but subtly leaned against the door frame for support.

"No, you don't," he told her, making his way forward. "You're going to rest. Your wedding's in less than a week, we don't want you sick."

"Oh, the wedding . . . there's so much I have to do . . ."

"I'll do it, don't worry."

"But—"

"No 'but's," Mu softly smiled, sweeping her off her feet as he gingerly held her in his arms. He pushed the bedroom door open with his foot to carry her inside. She almost fell straight asleep in his arms. He pushed off a shiver at the rushing memory of the night before. Instead, Mu set her down on the mattress and slid the covers over her sleeping body. "Just rest," he murmured, giving her a soft kiss on her warm forehead.

Then again, maybe closure isn't so far.

---

The following week went by so hard and fast, Mu was sure he never experienced anything so taxing on his mind and body—war included. Ever since Murrue regained back her health and strength, they had gone over every little smidgen of a detail from the moment they woke up on that welcoming day to when the sun set. "They went to the wedding here, then they took a car here where the reception would be heldat thattime. Then they went here, then . . . etc." Not only did they check and recheck everything not once, twice or thrice but way, way more. Soon though, Salvation came and saved them in the form of 'The Day Before.'

Usually on days before a big day, like say, oh, a wedding (!) most people would be running faster and faster in their wheel to only get nowhere. But for Mu and Murrue, it was a peaceful calm.—after a few issues were persistently worked out of course . . .

A Bachelor Party. Murrue couldn't understand why Mu didn't want to have one. He laughed about it and gave the answer that 'he hasn't been a bachelor in a very long time though he may act like one.' Yes, Murrue glared at his little add in, but blushed when he retorted about no Bachelorette Party for her. She had no answer.

Another undemanding exclusion was the loss of a 'Rehearsal Dinner.' At the wedding the next day, people were going to have lunch, like a classy buffet. Simple, but effective. Plus, where as most rehearsal dinners were usually just family, to both Mu and Murrue, the other was the only family they had left.

They spent the otherwise lost time with each other.

Once the sun set though, it seemed to change. The placid, relaxing air was gone and the atmosphere somehow more stifling. Murrue excused herself into the room they had been sharing to change into her bed-clothes. She sat down at her small little vanity, quietly fidgeting with her earrings, trying to get them out.

It was too quiet.

"Will you marry me?" Mu's soft voice drifted stilly through the room, startling Murrue from her deep concentration. She glanced up from trying to thread her earring out to look at the man through the mirror. He leaned in the doorway, half-hearted, lopsided grin daintily held to his face, as if just painted there.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She laughed returning back to work, now trying to taken to the left side.

"Will you marry me?" He asked again, no real change to his voice. Murrue dropped what she was doing to spin around in her chair. She knew Mu enough to know that if he asked a question twice, it was a rare, no-laughing matter.

Her own mouth slowly twisted into a soft, quiet smile before answering, taking a moment to reassure her thoughts.

"Yes," Murrue answered simply. Mu, as it looked, took a deep breath before serenely moving forward from where he was leaning on the door. She left it quiet for a moment watching him approach before doubling back. "Now—"

"Can I kiss you?" He interrupted in that same, simplistic tone.

"Whah—" That one caught her off guard. Murrue tried to laugh, but it came out a sour shot at the past. "Don't you think it's a bit late for that one, Mu?"

"Well, if I had asked the first time, would you have said yes?" He laughed at that one, regaining a bit of his humor.

"No, actually," she stiffly retorted with a smile.

"Hence my reasoning," he grinned, that infamous roguish one pushing through the surface as he came closer before it being lost to care. Mu's callused fingers ran softly down her cheek, pushing Murrue's hair out of the way. "What about now? Can I kiss you?"

There it was, the repeat question.

Murrue's amber eyes looked up to search his, but they foundeverything she already knew to be there, their playfulness, though, was gone. He waited, affectionately stroking her cheek as she stayed planted in the chair.

". . . yes. Yes, you can kiss me," she almost breathed in response before his mouth came and captured hers—or the other way around—neither was paying the least attention, which would also explain why Murrue was suddenly on her feet and in his arms when only a moment before she was sitting peacefully and neither knew how.

". . . While we're on the topic of past questions," she started, gaze focused away from his as her hold on his arms strengthened. "Remember when you promised you wouldn't die on me?" She weakly reminded, eyes washing over the ring on her hand.

"I renew that promise tenfold," Mu whispered as he slowly reached down and curled her left hand inside his. Eyes watching every move, he took the greatest care in bringing her thin hand to his lips to land a gentle kiss on the silver ring he'd given her. "I'll never leave you."

---

Murrue rummaged around through the dresser drawers in her room searching for that perfect necklace Mu had given her a few months before for her birthday. It fit her dress even more than the jewelry she had originally planned to wear and now she couldn't find it. In a desperate attempt she turned to the drawers for clothing, hoping it slid into one of them by accident.

Mu had left the room and was already 'sleeping' in his study downstairs. He'd read somewhere that it was bad luck for soon-to-be Newlyweds to sleep in the same room the night before the wedding and ever since he insisted that he sleep downstairs. Murrue had tried to talk him out of it—several times—except his persistence was such that he could keep going long after she gave up. That and she finally realized what he was trying to do.

Giving some much needed down time for her.

A smile gracefully came to her lips and Murrue went to hide it though she was the only one in the room. The conversation from before was almost guiltily running happily over in her mind, and not for the first time either.

Murrue felt her fingers pass over the jewelry chain from inside the depths of the drawer but by that time her mind seemed to be severed from all of her senses.

She felt her chest constrict painfully, creating a very numb sensation for her. Connecting two and three was always like that.

She understood.

She finally did.

She didn't understand it then, while dancing, but now she knew the thought put into every word, every syllable.

'Even if I can't be by your side, I'll always be with you. You know that, right?'

And just that night, he reminded her of it. 'I'll never leave you' means that he never will, but, it also means . . . he could still die . . .

He could still die.

Murrue finally had pulled the necklace from the drawer. Even unearthed she didn't see it. She didn't see she pulled the wrong necklace up and that the one she was holding so desperately was in the shape of a silver coffin, pink rose carved onto the side.

She didn't notice, but she had reason.

Tears had welled up in her large, shaking eyes and started running down her cheeks, spilling over onto the floor in great splashes. She didn't move to wipe them away or to stop their flow—one would think she didn't even know them to be there. She was too caught up in herself to notice.

She stood there in the dark as the minutes slowly passed.

Crying for reasons not yet known to her.

---

This was it . . .

Mu stood there, checking himself out in front of the mirror, uneasily calm. It was that fact alone that was making him sweat in the tuxedo he was busy donning. He had just finished making his tie reasonable, though he'd rather have gone without, when he heard the click of the door behind him.

She appeared in the closed doorway, arms quietly caught around her chest. Wearing long, white silk that simply hung around her body with a short train, she forlornly looked at him through the soft sheet of the veil that fell before her eyes. Though he saw it all, even her face, he couldn't help but display his signature roguish grin.

"You know, it's bad luck to see the bride be—"

"Screw luck," she burst out in a quiet mutter. Suddenly, his face softened in his knowledge.

He had been expecting it after all.

"Ah . . . second thoughts?"

"Actually," Murrue walked right up to Mu, grinning as always, and gave him a very hard and very loud smack on the cheek. He kept his head turned away, eyes wide as he went to place his hand on his sore face.

He certainly wasn't expecting that.