(AN: This is an utterly pointless flashback, no other way to look at it. And yet, it's my favorite part of this whole unfinished fic. I can't explain why. Something about it just feels more real than the rest. I like it.)

There were few times over the course of my marriage that my husband laid any restrictions on me. His way was to encourage my talents, not stifle them. Often he came to me for advice, or to consult me on the possible design of something or other, or on the signs we could see in the stars. But when we joined Liu Bei a matter came up which had been irrelevant until then. My husband did not mind my training in the martial arts. But to allow me into battle – that was another matter. It worried him particularly because he did not want our young son, Zhuge Zhan, to be motherless. He told me my responsibility to my family came first; there was no need for me on the battlefield.

If Liu Bei's forces had been strong, and the ranks filled with able warriors, perhaps his argument would have been justified. But at the time Liu Bei was struggling, and needed every able officer he could get. I said as much to my husband, who continued to refuse.

It was not usually my habit to argue with him if he was firm on a matter; but this time I would not be persuaded. I pestered, and threatened, and told him it was selfish of him to put his family before the welfare of his lord, to whom he had sworn service. Finally he relented, and by the next day, he seemed to have resigned himself to it. He asked me to accompany him on a short patrol. We saddled horses and out we went, discussing military strategy. On an isolated stretch of road, we were suddenly attacked by a group of bandits.

"Dismount!" cried the leader, whose face was concealed by a bandana. "Drop your weapons, if you value your lives."

My husband, as usual, had no weapon. His brow furrowed, and he called, "Yan Bao, is that you? When did you become a bandit?"

The bandit's stance faltered. He looked hesitantly at his companions, then cried angrily, "Dismount, or be cut to ribbons!"

"Your uncle would be ashamed to learn what his nephew has fallen to!" said Zhuge Liang.

"Enough!" cried the young man. "Get them! Cut them apart!"

Zhuge Liang drew his horse back, saying, "Don't harm them."

I charged past him, scythe at the ready. With the awareness that this Yan Bao was some acquaintance, I kept my weapon on the defensive, waiting for a chance to disarm my foes. In moments, their small band had surrounded me; but they were poorly trained. A few well placed strikes from the wooden part of the scythe knocked down three of my enemies. Another I disarmed. I felt the cold steel of a blade scrape my arm, but I paid this no heed as I sliced the leg of another foe. Finally, only Yan Bao was left. I parried his blow and halted my scythe at the skin of his throat.

"Don't kill me!" he cried, throwing down his weapon and raising his hands.

Zhuge Liang rode forward as I pulled away the scythe. He dismounted and examined the leg of the man I had sliced. Astonished, I stared at him. Satisfied that the wound was superficial, he turned to me and noticed the injury on my arm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," I said, glancing at the injury. It was shallow, and to show him how little it meant to me I flexed my arm. He gestured at the bandits.

"Forgive them, they were acting under my orders."

"They were what?"

"I was still feeling qualms about allowing you on the battlefield. Though you have always fared well in training, it is a very different thing to fight on the field, against enemies bent on taking your life. Furthermore, you have never struggled against superior numbers. So I arranged this test."

That was typical of my husband. I inclined my head and said, "Are you satisfied with the result?"

"Yes; you handled yourself very well. I can find no fault with your performance."

Later that evening, however, as the two of us were walking along with our toddler, Zhan, he admitted, "To be honest, I wish you had fared a little more poorly; it would give me an excuse to keep you from the battlefield."

"You worry too much," I replied. "I will be fine."

"Perhaps… but even so, what will I do with our son while you're out fighting?"

"I suppose you'll have to watch over him," I replied, scooping the boy up and pushing him into his father's arms.

"Hm." Zhuge Liang looked doubtful.

So did Zhan. He was not used to spending much time with Liang, and the prospect of being left alone with only his father brought a look of consternation to his face.

"And no more tests to assure my fitness for the field," I said, pointing to my arm.

Zhan pouted. "Bad test hurt mother," he accused, reaching up to yank Liang's beard.

This surprised me as much as it did Liang, who took the naughty boy's hand and said, "Let's not pull on your father's beard, child." Zhan grunted, and twisted, struggling fiercely to be free. He strained toward me and squealed, writhing until Zhuge Liang dropped him. The boy ran behind me and glared at his father.

"What a precocious child," said Zhuge Liang.

"I wonder where he gets it from," I answered, arching an eyebrow at him

"Perhaps from the mother who drove her father to distraction with her willfulness, and now insists on marching out to the battlefield."

"Oh? Well, I've heard stories from Master Fledgling Phoenix about how you behaved as a child..."

"They're probably not true," replied Zhuge Liang. "Shiyuan just likes to tell stories."

"What about the time your uncle was asleep and—"

"Sh," Zhuge Liang interrupted me quickly, with a glance at Zhan. "Let's not give the boy any ideas."

I grinned, as Zhan promptly piped up, "What? What did you do? Father, what?"

"He must not have been too pleased about it," I remarked.

"Neither was I, after the punishment I received," said Zhuge Liang. To the querying toddler he added, "Child, stop yapping."

"But what?" persisted Zhan. "What, father? What? What?"

Dealing with an intelligent and overly curious toddler can be very trying at times. I was used to it; but his father wasn't. I watched, amused, as an exasperated Liang finally silenced the boy by swinging him up onto his shoulders. Zhan squealed with delight, and clung tightly to his father.

"You can stay up there if you're quiet; but pull my whiskers again and down you go," said Liang.

This was, of course, exactly the wrong thing to say to an attention-seeking child. Zhan promptly seized hold of his beard, and Zhuge Liang hauled him off and swung him down, much to the boy's delight. Seeing he was to be set on the ground, Zhan struggled fiercely, clinging to his father's sleeve and trying to pull himself back up. When he was dislodged and plopped in the grass, he scrambled to his feet and returned to his father, trying to scale his robe. Zhuge Liang finally scooped him up and tucked him under one arm. The boy kicked and thrashed, giggling as he tried with the frantic energy of a puppy to free himself.

I was trying, and failing, to stifle my laughter at the sight.

Zhuge Liang cast a brief glance at the squirming bundle under his arm. "It's like raising a monkey."

"He just woke from his nap, so he's rather energetic," I replied.

"Does he attack you?"

"No."

"I'm a tiger," growled the child. He made hissing noises. When Zhuge Liang set him down, he pounced at his leg.

"I think he's been spending too much time with Zhang Fei," said Zhuge Liang.

"He's a little overactive tonight," I said. "But he's nothing compared to Xing Cai. That child is impossible."

At that moment, we came across Zhang Fei and his "impossible" child. Slightly younger than Zhan, she did not know how to speak well yet, though she was a smart girl. He was leading her by the hand, giving her a bit of a frustrated look as she listed far to one side, using his grip as a counterbalance so she could stumble along at a slant. "You're walking like an ape," he growled, tugging her upright. But she persisted in her ape-walk, leaning and letting him carry much of her weight until she saw Zhan. Jerking free of her father's grasp, she rushed forward.

Zhang Fei paused, brows bristling together as he glared at Zhuge Liang. My husband only smiled at him. With a snort, Liu Bei's younger brother turned to me and said wearily, "Would you mind watching her for a few hours? My wife's sick… I can't take any more of the brat."

"Not at all, general," I replied.

Zhang Fei muttered a quick thanks and strode away. I think he was embarrassed at having to manage his unruly daughter. I turned to Zhuge Liang, who released Zhan to a fierce collision with Xing Cai.

"Good. Let them kill each other," he said.

I laughed at this unparental remark, and together we stood and watched the toddlers' playful rumble.

(4.2)

(AN: Had I actually continued the story properly, there would be a scene here about the rain falling at Shangfang Gorge, ruining Zhuge Liang's last scheme. But I never got that far. I did, however, have one scene written from afterwards, so here it is...)

Zhuge Liang's health continued to deteriorate after the failure at Shangfang Gorge. He persisted in his long working hours, despite my frequent requests that he take better care of himself. Sima Yi was now even more determined to hold his defensive position, and received an order from the Emperor ordering him to do so. When this news reached our camp, Zhuge Liang said, "It's Sima Yi's way of keeping his army quiet, while demoralizing ours."

"What can we do?" queried Jiang Wei, exchanging worried glances with me.

The Prime Minister only shook his head. His eyes, once so sharp and clear, had of late become dull and listless, like the polished eyes of a doll. He was well aware of the difficulty of our situation, and trying to think of a way around it; but each day he seemed to be further from us. I knelt in front of him, murmuring his name. He shook his head, but this did not seem to help to clear his thoughts. Leaning his head on his hand, he gave in to his cough, and gestured for us to leave him.

"At this rate, he won't last long," Jiang Wei said to me outside. "We have to persuade him to stop overworking, and take care of his health. Otherwise…"

"I'll see what I can do," I said, with a sinking feeling in my heart. Oh, how reluctant I was to go to this confrontation, knowing how he would resist my words, and be angered at me for them. But I had to try, to force him to relax his efforts at the very least, and pay his illness some mind; even if it would alienate me from him to do so.

Later that evening, I came to his tent. He was writing – he was often writing these days. He did not even glance up at my entrance. Hunched over his desk, he looked as if he might collapse; yet the brush continued to flow across the page.

I knelt in front of him. "My dear, you must take care of yourself better," I urged him gently. "You overwork yourself. If your illness worsens, how will we continue? Please rest. There's no need for you to work so hard."

It was some while before he answered. The words came slowly, in a voice drained of energy. "… Thank you for your kind concern."

I bit back tears of exasperation, and sought some reply that he might actually listen to. My eye was drawn to the slight tremble of his brush over the paper. He blinked, and rubbed at his eyes. Then he set the brush to the paper again, but hesitated, looking at it as if he couldn't quite see it. Frowning, he let the brush fall, and leaned his head on his hand.

Dizziness. He had been sick this way before, putting an end to a different campaign. At the time he had complained of a certain fuzziness to his thoughts, and that his mind was confused.

"You must rest," I told him, trying hard to control the rising urgency in my voice. I brushed away tears.

My husband, if he heard the emotion in my voice, gave no sign of it. "Please take dictation for me," he said.

I was astonished at this stubbornness. Staring at him in incredulity for a moment, I shook my head. "No. My husband, you must rest."

He seemed startled at this direct defiance. It surprised him enough that he lifted his head to look at me. Then he sighed in annoyance, turning away and calling for one of his attendants.

"Your Excellency." One of the men standing guard outside entered and bowed.

"Bring Jiang Wei," said Zhuge Liang.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

I felt my mouth drop open. I was appalled – the man was so stubborn, and foolish! This was too much. Whatever restraint had remained in me snapped. I slammed a hand down on his desk and collared him.

"Listen to me," I snarled through tears, "You are the prime minister of the empire, and the chief commander of the army. You cannot work yourself into sickness like this. Do you have any idea what a blow it will be to the empire if you die? I have tried, so hard, to preserve your health, but you won't listen… You expect me to stand by, and just watch you slowly die, all because you're too stubborn… You are the most exasperating person in the world to care for!"

He pulled back, freeing himself from my grip. His brow furrowed, and he answered harshly, "I do not have much time left. Whether I rest or not, I know I am dying; I would rather spend what little time remains usefully. I must finish this letter to His Imperial Highness… and there are other things I must complete… while there is still time."

This speech silenced me completely. I stared at him, unable for some moments to speak. For the first time, I perceived that this was not another illness like the last, from which he would eventually recover. All this while I had seen him fading away, but had thought it impermanent. He would retreat or obtain a victory, and with rest be nursed back to health.

No… I had not seen it. Had not until that moment realized he was dying. The truth hit me like a blow. I couldn't see, for the burning in my eyes. Sinking to the floor, I turned away from him, so that he could not see my tears.

He said nothing. There was only silence, except for his occasional coughing.

Jiang Wei arrived. I had not yet mastered my tears, and kept my face averted. I heard the rustle of cloth as Zhuge Liang shifted slightly.

"Your Excellency?" said Jiang Wei.

"I'm sorry; it is nothing," said Zhuge Liang wearily. "You may go."

Jiang Wei turned to me, his youthful eyes full of concern. He looked back to his teacher, and seemed about to speak, but the Prime Minister must have gestured at him to leave, for he reluctantly turned away.

After he had gone, I eventually got my tears under control. I sat silent, saying nothing. I did not know what to say.

He remained leaning over his desk, arm braced against it as if the effort of holding himself up cost him. Finally he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I have been a very poor husband to you."

This was the last thing I expected him to say, and it hurt to hear it; it was so far from what I thought about him. I objected quickly, turning to clasp his hand. He looked up at me. His eyes were so tired, it made my heart break to look at them.

"When we married," he said slowly, "you did not expect a life of turmoil… It was my decision that sacrificed us to the world's chaos. You should have been able to have a quiet… peaceful life…"

"No, my dear, no, that's not what I wanted!" I insisted, squeezing his hand tightly. "You did not promise it, and I did not wish it. I would rather fight to end the chaos than selfishly leave others to do so. I was blessed with the good fortune of being able to work at your side. What greater honor could there be? There is no one I revere more, no one I am more proud of than you, my husband."

Zhuge Liang's eyes lowered, shadowed with grief. "I have accomplished so little…" He coughed, and his hand trembled in mine as he said, "How will I face our lord in the afterlife?"

His despair was like a hole inside me. I shook my head, unable to speak, and embraced him. When I found my voice I murmured, "You have done so much… You gave him Chengdu, and saved him from Cao Cao…" But these were shallow comforts, I knew. We both knew that he had failed to achieve Liu Bei's dream, that had been so tenderly entrusted to him. To fail that trust broke his heart.

I sought desperately for something, anything to say to give us hope. "Lu Xun may yet score a victory against Wei," I said. "If he does we will have a chance. Between their forces and ours, we can still triumph."

"Yes…" He looked neither hopeful nor cheered at these words. He no longer looked sad, either. Only very, very tired. With a sigh, he said, "Perhaps… Lu Xun will win…"

I looked at him, waiting for him to say more, but he seemed to have no energy for contemplation on the subject. He looked listlessly down at our hands, intertwined on the table. I do not think he saw them.

After a few minutes, I disengaged myself and picked up the brush. Turning the paper around to face me, I murmured, "What comes next…?"

Zhuge Liang stirred himself from his silence. He began reciting, pausing occasionally to cough or catch his breath. Dutifully, I recorded his words. We kept on like this for an hour, until he felt well enough to take the brush and continue himself.

(AN: From here on, it was just going to spiral into more melancholy and depressing stuff. There was one sort of funny flashback with Pang Tong that lightened it up a bit, but for the most part the story was going to plunge into gloom. There's a scene where Yue Ying is weeping at his bedside. He wakes up out of his illness and makes some effort to comfort her, and tell her that he knows she blames herself for his failing health, but it's not her fault, etc... It's one of the few late-in-life scenes where there's some evidence of his love for her. In the midst of sickness, he struggles to comfort her. Right, yeah... sad.

Let's see... what else in my notes? A later scene, when Zhuge is more fully alert, after the failed prayer and whatnot, Yue Ying finds him in his tent, sitting at his desk. But he's not working. He's not sleeping, not thinking, not looking sad or hopeful or anything at all. Just calm. But that's because he's completely empty inside, because he knows he has lost. There is nothing left in him... Yeah. More sad.

But I won't write it. So there. :P The world is spared the depressive tragedy of ZL's death, or the horrible melodrama that might have resulted from any attempt on my part to finish this fic. But you get the idea, eh?)