Hey there everyone! How's it going? I hope you're all pumped for Chapter 14 of "A Lost Soul"! . Also, a lot of stories are moving towards the ends, so also expect another fic to be coming up soon. (Like, a couple of months soon ((sweatdrops)) )

I made a horrible typo! (cries) In one of Lost's memories, I said Alphonse had hazel eyes! I LIED! I'm sorry, he has green eyes! I know that detail seems completely irrelevant, but I thought I should correct my mistake.

A Lost Soul – Chapter 14 – A Mad Man's Most Horrible Memory

"Father?" Lost asked, her voice trembling, her eyes wide. "Father!" She screamed and threw herself back, searching for the way out. Before she could rise to her feet, Lost screamed as she felt a sharp pull on her hair.

"Stay quiet, Marguerite!" Xavier barked as he pulled her hair tighter. She screamed again, and Alphonse stepped forward, his mouth open in fear.

"Xavier, release her," Jean Paul commanded his son. Xavier frowned and reluctantly let Lost go to rejoin his sister, Amelie on the other side of the room.

"I-I don't understand…" Lost cried. "W-we all look the same age! How can we be brother and sister?"

"Silly Marguerite," Jean Paul smirked wildly. "Haven't you ever heard of quintuplets?"

"Q-Quintuplets?" Lost asked, her brow furrowed. "A-All five of us were born at the same time!" She said it as a realization more then a question.

"That's right…" Jean Paul smirked, moving towards Xavier. "Xavier here is the oldest. He's fifteen minutes and forty six seconds older then you. Quite a margin, wouldn't you say?"

Xavier grinned at Lost. Lost looked up into his eyes and saw that they matched their father's completely, especially the mad look in them.

"EAT IT!"

Xavier, aged seven, was standing over the small Marguerite, pushing her head down into the dirt, holding her hair as he had done in the present. An angry look was in his mouth and in his frustrated scowl. He looked angry and mad with rage at Marguerite. He pushed her down again, screaming as loud as his tiny lungs could manage.

"EAT MOMMY'S DIRT!"

Marguerite cried out, scared and afraid. Xavier had always had the broad physique, while Lost was smaller, shorter, and frail compared to her muscular older brother. Xavier had a history of abusing Marguerite, and he had the power to do so as well, due to his ability with his fists.

"I don't want to!" Marguerite cried, tears flowing down her tiny cheeks as the angry Xavier plunged her in again. She surfaced, dirt covering her mouth. She cried out to anyone for mercy. "Help!" she screamed.

"EAT IT! EAT IT NOW!" Xavier screamed, a mad grin spreading across his face. He was enjoying this abuse he was inflicting on his younger sister. He was enjoying it as if he was relieving his anger on a doll or taking out his frustration on a stuffed animal.

To him, Marguerite was simply a punching bag to be thrown around.

"Xa-Xavier…" Lost murmured, looking up at her eldest brother, who turned away as their eyes made contact.

Jean Paul turned to Amelie, the long haired girl. Lost turned and looked at the two to see that Amelie was the apple of her father's eye. Her eyes were a different shape, but matched the hazel that her father possessed. She had long light brown hair, exactly like her father, and their facial structure appeared similar. Still, when Lost looked at Amelie, she could see a resemblance between them in Amelie's small hands and delicate feet. "Amelie is thirteen minutes and six seconds older then you. Still quite your elder, don't you think?"

Lost looked up at Amelie, and realized that she was the only sibling that she had not dreamt about. She wondered why, but as Amelie turned her head away from Lost, she remembered violently.

"Amelie…?"

Marguerite, aged nine or so, walked up to her older sister who was sitting at a table playing with a doll. "Amelie? I brought my doll too." Marguerite held up a doll made out of a rag. She had drawn eyes and a mouth on, and it was obvious that the doll was hand made by Marguerite herself. "Can I play?"

Amelie did not respond. She simply stood up, grabbed her doll in her hand, and started to walk away. Marguerite followed her older sister. "Can I please play? Please?"

Amelie sat down on the cold floor and began to play with the doll again, talking to it instead of her sister. Marguerite sat down and began to talk for her doll. "Hello! My name is Crystal, what's yours?"

Amelie stood up with her doll and began to walk away again. Marguerite looked extremely hurt and stood up, calling after her sister. "Amelie! Amelie, why won't you ever talk to me? Why won't you play with me? I never ever see you…you're always in your room."

"You can't come in my room," Amelie muttered savagely. "That's why I stay in my room." With that, Amelie walked towards a door, opened the chipped door, and slammed it behind her. Marguerite heard a small "click!" of a lock, and frowned sadly.

"You never got to know Amelie very well," Jean Paul smiled coldly once again. Amelie turned her head, refusing to make eye contact. "You see, she despised you so much, that, instead of taking it out on you, she decided to sever all ties. Amelie always was rather passive aggressive."

"Amelie!" Lost called out to her sister, but Amelie didn't move. Lost frowned. She now knew why she hadn't remembered her eldest sister like the others. Amelie had exerted all her effort into staying away from Lost in any respect. Lost remembered that she was lucky if she saw Amelie once in a week, even when they were young.

"This is Alphonse," Jean Paul said, moving to the blonde boy. Lost looked up at Alphonse and noticed that she and her brother were the most matching in appearance. They had the same pale blonde hair and green eyes. The one thing that even labeled Alphonse as his father's child was his eyesight. He wore glasses like his father, and behind them, his sharp green eyes looked at her sympathetically. "He's eight minutes and forty one seconds older then you. A long time between Amelie and him, I must say."

Alphonse cracked a weak smile at Lost, and Lost smiled back at him. She remembered. This was Alphonse, the only sibling who had ever shown her a shred of kindness.

"STOP IT!" Marguerite looked up as she heard a familiar friendly voice enter the small graveyard. She turned her head to see none other then her older brother Alphonse standing in front of her and Xavier, panting slightly.

"Stop it, Xavier! You're only hurting her!" Marguerite smiled as she looked at her brother. Alphonse was the only one who ever stood up for her when her siblings had been abusive. He was shy, and very passive when it came to confrontation, but he was willing to step forward and help her when needed..

"Stay out of it, Alphonse!" barked Xavier, stepping forward towards their brother. Alphonse stepped back, and Marguerite gave a small gasp. She knew that Alphonse was frail, much like herself, and that he would have no chance in a fist fight with Xavier. However, Xavier didn't step again, and instead, began to shout at his brother.

"Alphonse!" Lost smiled widely, and tried to stand, only to be stopped by Xavier shooting her a dark look. Alphonse looked away, and Lost kneeled back down as Jean Paul moved to the last person in the room.

"And this is your older sister Genevieve," Jean Paul said, putting his hand on the last girl's shoulder. "She was born only five minutes and thirty seconds before you."

Genevieve shot Lost a dark look with a wicked grin. Lost gulped, and moved back an inch or so. Genevieve also looked like her father, but her facial structure and wavy hair matched Lost's. Her hair color, however, matched her father's, as did her eye color, a sharp hazel. She was grinning at Lost, almost flirtatiously.

"M-My sister…" Lost murmured, and the memory surface within her.

"Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy! Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!"

"Hah! You're so funny, Genevieve!" Marguerite and Genevieve were three years old and were playing in the overgrown garden.

"Thanks for coming to play!" Genevieve grinned. Marguerite smiled at Genevieve. It was really her pleasure. Amelie never played with Marguerite, and Xavier was vicious. Alphonse was usually too timid to play daring and fun games.

"Genevieve!" Marguerite and Genevieve looked up to see none other then their father, Jean Paul standing in the door. He looked younger and cleaner, but his eyes were still dark and mad. "Genevieve, stop playing and come inside!"

"Coming, Daddy!" Genevieve smiled and got up, brushing off her dress. Marguerite looked upset as Genevieve got up, and Genevieve turned back and gave Marguerite a smile, of which she returned.

"Genevieve! I said come here!" Jean Paul shouted harshly..

"What for Daddy?" Genevieve asked.

"I have something to show you," Jean Paul told her, leading her gently into the house. "Something important."

"HYAH!"

"ARRGH!"

Marguerite fell back as Genevieve landed another devastating blow on her. It had been like this for almost seven years. Ever since Genevieve had gone into the house with their father that day they were playing, Genevieve had despised Marguerite.

Marguerite didn't think she could take anymore. The pain was too much. Not just the pain in her ribs and her chest, but the pain in her heart. She never had found out what happened to her once beloved sister.

"Genevieve! Stop!" Marguerite cried, tears falling down her face.

"That'll teach you to come to my place without permission," Genevieve growled. Marguerite had only come into her room to deliver the laundry, but Genevieve never let an opportunity to properly beat Marguerite go by. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I-I…I just came to…" Marguerite began to explain herself, but Genevieve wanted no explanations. She gave her younger sister another sharp kick. Marguerite cried out: "Genevieve!"

"GET OUT!" Genevieve screamed, kicking Marguerite constantly. Her kicks became harder and swifter as her anger rose. "GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!"

"ARRGH!"

"Just die!" Genevieve grinned evilly. "DIE!" Marguerite cried out again and again as the blows continued. Tears fell from her eyes, while anger rose in Genevieve.

"Genevieve!" Lost cried. "Why? Why do you hate me?"

"You want to know why Genevieve hates you?" Jean Paul asked, smiling widely. He gave a small disbelieving chuckle. "Have you already forgotten? Already forgotten the wrong you have done us all?"

"Wrong?" Lost asked, her eyes wide with fear. "What did I do? What in the world did I do?" she grasped her hair and pulled hard, trying to remember. "Please, tell me why this is happening! I want my mother! Where's my mother?" Lost asked frantically. "Why can't I remember her?"

"Shut up!" Jean Paul screamed, and Lost fell back as the back of his hand struck her face. "Shut up about your mother! You have no right to even say you have a mother you murdering wretch!"

"I killed mother!" Lost cried frantically, searching for an answer to her many questions. "I know! But why? Why did I kill my mother? Oh God! Please tell me why!"

Jean Paul frowned, his eyes narrowed. He kneeled down and moved his face next to Lost's, leering at her. "That night…my entire life ended. Everything that I wanted was gone. My beloved Giselle was dead. I had no home. All I had were four children, and one murderer on my hands. And I ran.

"My Giselle was all I had," he told her coldly. "One of the most important things in my life. I still remember the day of our wedding."

"And I now pronounce you man and wife," the preacher announced, and Jean Paul turned his white clad bride. Giselle stood in front of her husband, both of them only eighteen years old, but so much in love. Jean Paul lifted her veil and kissed her lips sweetly. The guests clapped and cheered appropriately as the couple came down the aisle, now Monsieur and Madame Lumiere.

"Congratulations!" a woman of the town said to Giselle at the small party that followed. "I'm so happy for you two. You were always meant for each other."

"That' s exactly what I said!" said another middle aged woman to Giselle. "You and Jean Paul have known each other since you were children!"

"Although, getting married to a scientist is a little…well…" one woman snickered, "risky, wouldn't you say?"

"Jean Paul has some amazing research going on," Giselle explained as she took a small bite of wedding cake, making sure not to smudge her pink lipstick. "It's so wonderful. I love hearing him go on and on about his projects." She laughed slightly. "I think, that if I turned him down, he would have married his beloved research instead."

"How can you say that?" Jean Paul asked, sneaking up on his new bride and giving her a kiss on the head. The women giggled as he sat next to Giselle, kissing her again. "Are you saying you actually considered saying no to my proposal?"

"Of course not," Giselle smiled, kissing her husband. "I love you."

"Giselle!" a little girl ran up to Giselle, a bright smile on her face. "When are you going to throw the bouquet? My sister and I are arguing about who's going to get it!"

"I'll throw it now!" Giselle smiled at the girl, picking up her wedding bouquet, filled with yellow, purple and white flowers. She shouted to the entire group of guests. "I'm about to throw the bouquet everyone! Come on!"

The single women all giggled and ran over to Giselle, their laughs stifled by the pushing of all the women. Jean Paul looked at his beautiful bride and smiled.

"Congratulations Jean Paul."

Jean Paul looked up to see a man with graying hair and a kind smile wearing a black tuxedo. Jean Paul smiled at the man, inviting him to sit down. "Professor Telus, you came!"

"Of course I came, boy," Marcel laughed, sitting down next to his apprentice. "I would never miss your wedding. Giselle is quite the catch, isn't she?"

"She's perfect," Jean Paul sighed contentedly. "She's my angel."

"Jean Paul," Marcel began, taking a bite of wedding cake. "About your experiment…"

"I proposed it three years ago," Jean Paul said, looking down at his place mat with a mild smile. "I was only fifteen. I've forgotten such things by now."

"Jean Paul, you must know what I mean," Marcel began.

"Oh, watch!" Jean Paul smiled, turning towards Giselle, who had just turned around. "Giselle's about the throw the bouquet!"

"Okay!" Giselle closed her eyes and readied her arm. "Here I go!" she threw the bouquet up into the air, but, just then, a huge gust of wind came through the party and the bouquet flew right back into Giselle's hands.

There was a silence, followed by small gasps and Giselle turned around sheepishly. "I hear it's a bad omen if the bride catches her own bouquet…"a teenage girl whispered to her friend. "They say that the bride and groom will be separated before their fifth anniversary."

"It's an omen," Giselle spoke up, overhearing the girl. The two girls gulped, embarrassed, but Giselle simply smiled. "But a good one! It just means that my child will be the first one to get married!"

Giselle looked down at the bouquet and closed her eyes. "Now…another omen." Giselle's fingers lingered over the flowers of the bouquet until she finally touched one and pulled it out. She opened her eyes and smiled at the marguerite flower in her hand. "Jean Paul!"

"What is it Giselle?" he asked, standing up as his bride ran over.

"If we have a girl," she said to him. "We need to name her "Marguerite". The flower told me to!"

"What if it's a boy?" Jean Paul laughed. "Just watch, we're going to have five boys in a row."

"If it's a boy…" Giselle frowned, looking down at the bouquet. "Well, I doubt any boy would like to be named "Lily" or "Daisy"…" she giggled, but then looked up. "How about Xavier? That was my baby brother's name. He only lived a couple of days, so our boy will be his way to finally live," she smiled.

"Xavier is a lovely name," Jean Paul smiled. "It'll be Marguerite and Xavier then."

"What if we have more children?" Giselle giggled.

"We'll think of that later," Jean Paul shrugged, kissing his wife. "But I always liked the name "Amelie" for a girl."

Jean Paul was cut off as Giselle erupted into a horrible coughing fit. His eyes widened and he caught his wife as she almost fell. "Giselle! Giselle, are you all right?"

"I-I'm fine…" Giselle murmured, lifting her head up to reveal blood in her hand. "None of it got on my dress."

"Is it another attack?" Jean Paul asked.

"No," Giselle shook her head, forcing a smile. "No, I'm fine. R-really. Just a cough. Not an attack."

"Are you sure you don't want to lie down?" he asked her. Marcel shot a look at Jean Paul, but Jean Paul did not recognize his Professor's look. "Are you sure you don't want to lie down right here on the bench?"

"I-I'm fine Jean Paul," Giselle assured him, smiling. "I wouldn't want to ruin our wedding day with my disease."

"I-I don't understand…" Lost murmured. "Giselle…was my mother?"

"Yes," Jean Paul nodded grimly. "My beloved Giselle is your mother.

Lost now realized why Giselle had looked almost exactly like her. She was her mother's daughter, if slightly less beautiful then Giselle. So the Giselle who owned the necklace was her mother… "The necklace!" Lost murmured to herself. She felt her neck and found that the chain was hidden under her dress.

"What?" Jean Paul asked.

"I said…" Lost stumbled. "A disease? What kind of disease?"

"A rare form of Tuberculosis," Jean Paul told her. "Giselle had a case of Tuberculosis that was untreatable due to a genetic disorder that made her internal organs extremely sensitive to outside chemicals and medications. So sensitive in fact, that even a simple pain killer could leave her in bed for days."

"A genetic disorder?" Lost asked curiously. "And so…treating Tuberculosis…"

"Was impossible," Jean Paul finished. "It would kill her. Her disorder…simply didn't allow it."

"And so…she was dying?" Lost asked.

"In a matter of speaking, yes," Jean Paul nodded. "Giselle would not last long. To her twenties…perhaps."

"Gi… I mean, Mother died from Tuberculosis?" Lost asked. "I thought I killed her."

"Giselle did not die from her disease," Jean Paul muttered. "And she wouldn't have either, if it weren't for you."

"Huh?" Lost looked up, confused. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

"You've talked with Marcel, correct?" Jean Paul asked. Lost looked taken aback at his knowledge of her whereabouts, but she nodded none the less. "Professor Telus was a brilliant man, but very narrow minded. That's why I sent him that painting. To remind him of his narrow mindedness." He turned to Xavier and smiled. "And Xavier here was kind enough to put my old Professor out of his misery."

Xavier smirked, his eyes narrowed in a cruel satisfaction. Lost shivered as Jean Paul continued. "You see, my experiment was genius," he told her, turning around and pacing around the room, as if reveling in the ingeniousness of it. "If it succeeded, I could alter the genes of human beings. Genetic transformations. I could do anything. Enhance muscles, change physical appearance, and most importantly…" he murmured, turning to Lost, "cure genetic diseases."

Lost gave a small gasp. "You were going to use the experiment on mother and save her?"

"That was my plan," Jean Paul nodded.

"So…that date…" Lost muttered, remembering what Marcel had told Ren and herself many days ago at the restaurant.

"It…it…" Marcel shook his head. "It had…a date that read: "Date of Experiment"."

"That date…the subject was Mother!" Lost gasped.

"You must be referring to my research papers that the townspeople found," Jean Paul frowned. "Yes…Giselle was going to have the research performed on her. She was more then willing. I was going to save her…" Jean Paul gave a warm smile, so uncharacteristic of anything that Lost had ever seen before. "But everything had to go wrong…"

"They've found it!" Jean Paul shouted, bursting into his house, his scarf loosely tightened around his neck. Giselle was sitting in the living room, reading a book. She looked up, frightened. "The research! They've found my research!"

"What do you mean?" Giselle asked, frightened.

"The townspeople found my research!" Jean Paul said. "They're rallying! We have to get out of here."

"I'll get my coat," Giselle said, slowly rising to her feet, only to have Jean Paul run over to her to stop her.

"Let me help you," he told her, taking her arms and slowly helping her up. When Giselle's blanket fell, one could see why Jean Paul helped his wife up. Giselle had a healthy sized bump growing in her lower stomach.

"Mother was pregnant?" Lost asked. "With us?"

"Yes," Jean Paul nodded. "She was eight months pregnant. What we planned was that she would deliver the baby and a few months afterwards, I would perform the experiment."

"What happened?" Lost asked.

Jean Paul frowned sadly. "It just went completely wrong…"

"The car isn't working!" Jean Paul told his wife as he got out of their vehicle to check the tires. "Dammit, just as I thought. Someone's punctured the tires. They must have come to make sure we wouldn't run."

"What are we going to do?" Giselle asked, her green eyes wide with fear.

"We'll go by foot," Jean Paul said, walking to the other side of the car and opening the door to help Giselle out. "It'll take longer, but the townspeople aren't here right now, and we should take advantage of that."

"Where are they?" Giselle asked as Jean Paul began to lead his wife away from their house.

"Probably at my lab," he told her. "Or Professor Telus' house."

"Professor Telus is in danger?" Giselle asked, frightened. "We have to go back and help him!"

"We can't! They'll kill us!" Jean Paul snapped fiercely and Giselle flinched. Jean Paul's eyes softened, and a guilty look spread across his face. "I-I…I'm sorry. We have to go."

"We ran," Jean Paul said. "But it was tough, especially with Giselle in her condition. She was growing weaker, and we weren't even out of the town yet."

"Come on Giselle," Jean Paul hurried his wife, who was panting with exhaustion. "Come on darling, we have to keep going."

"Jean Paul!" Giselle gasped. "I-I…" Suddenly, Giselle buckled over onto her knees. She fell to the ground and Jean Paul gasped. "Jean Paul!"

"Giselle!" Jean Paul cried, diving to his wife. "Y-You're…you're…"

"My water broke! I'm having the baby!" she cried and Jean Paul's eyes widened. "P-Pull me there…" she murmured, pointing to an alley. "Maybe they won't see us if we're in there!"

Jean Paul did as Giselle told him and gently picked up his wife and walked slowly to the alleyway, setting her sitting against the wall. "Are you comfortable? Why is the baby coming so soon?"

"He must be premature…" Giselle muttered, breathing heavily, sweat on her brow. "Oh Jean Paul!"

"Don't worry!" Jean Paul grasped his wife's hand and held her shoulder. "Just breathe. It'll be all right, I'll help."

"It was difficult," Jean Paul murmured, thinking back to the day. "But the both of us worked together to deliver the baby. I was constantly glancing over my shoulder, knowing that our time was running out."

"We've got to hurry," he told her.

"I can't go any faster!" she insisted, her face sweaty.

"In this next contraction, you've got to push Giselle!" he told her. "I'll help with the delivery. But you've got to push!"

"Euurrg…" Giselle furrowed her brow, gritted her teeth, and pushed forward with all her might, sweat trickling down her brow. She gave out small gasps and cries, but Jean Paul was too busy delivering his baby to notice.

"It's the head!" he told her, helping remove the child with the greatest of care. "Just a bit more Giselle!"

Giselle nodded and gave another push, pushing out the baby's head and torso. The baby began to erupt into tears, and Jean Paul pulled it out and put it on his jacket. "It's a boy!" he told her, tears in his eyes. "Isn't he loud?"

"He's wonderful," she murmured. "What's his name going to be?"

"Xavier, of course," Jean Paul cried, and glanced at his watch. "Ten fifteen… We'll want to remember the time."

"You're so silly," she smiled at him, laughing slightly. "We should get him cleaned up and—" Giselle gasped and cried out.

"Giselle!" Jean Paul gasped, rushing to her side, Xavier now wrapped in his jacket and in his arms. "Giselle, what's wrong?"

"Another contraction!" she gasped. "I-It can't be…twins?"

"Two?" he asked, his eyes wide. He laid Xavier down, the boy still messy and crying, and attended to his wife. "My God…Giselle, your health! It was hard enough for you to deliver Xavier!"

"I've got to!" she said, narrowing her eyes. "If I don't, then how can I possibly call myself a mother?"

Jean Paul paused, and then nodded. He held his wife's knees, and told her to push once again.

"And she did…around two minutes later," he told Lost, placing a hand on Amelie's shoulder, "your sister here was born."

"It's a girl!" Jean Paul smiled at his worn wife, who was lying down, happiness mixed with pain and weariness on her face. "She's got my eyes…just like Xavier. Should we name her Ma-"

"ARRGGH!" Giselle fell back and screamed, and Jean Paul was forced to lay the baby girl next to the crying Xavier and return to his wife. "Jean Paul!"

"It was another one," he told Lost, wandering over to Alphonse. "But this one took longer. I remember how I was constantly worried about the townspeople catching up to us. Constantly glancing over my shoulder."

"It's another boy!" he told her, smiling. "He's blonde, like you!"

"I knew…" she sputtered out, her voice weak, "at least one of them would look like me."

"Triplets," he gasped, wiping his brow. "I just can't believe it. They're so small…"

"Jean Paul…" Giselle's voice caught his attention, and he looked over at her. His eyes widened as he looked at his battered wife. Her face was a mess of sweat, dirt, and blood from her bitten lip. She was in so much pain, and more over, she had lost so much energy. "I'm…so tired…"

"This is too risky for you," he told her. "One baby was enough to hope for in your condition. Come on…let's go. There's a hospital about four miles from the town."

"EURG!" she caught her breath and fell back, screaming once again.

"Giselle, oh God! Another one!" he gasped, kneeling down. His face was also sweating and contracted in fear. His hair had already fallen out of its holder, and his now loose light brown locks fell over his shoulders and into his eyes. He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt, not wasting a moment to return to the attendance of his wife. "Giselle, hold on please!"

"And soon, Genevieve here was born," Jean Paul said, walking over to Genevieve and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"It's a girl!" he laughed, looking at Giselle with tears in his eyes. Not from joy any longer, but from utter and complete terror for the fate of his wife. Giselle was a mess. Her breathing was uneven, and she had already coughed up blood. Her limbs were shaking, and her four crying children lay at her side, now wrapped in both Jean Paul's jacket and her shawl. "We're going now!" he told her, holding out his hand. "I'll carry both you and the children!"

"Jean Paul…"

Jean Paul's eyes widened as he heard his wife's quivering voice. It wasn't like the other times she had called his name, with hope and affection. Now, it was as though she was calling out his name for the last time, as if she was accepting her fate…

"Giselle," he turned to her, his eyes wide. "We have to go. Now."

"No," she shook her head, tears in her eyes. "The last one…that last baby's coming."

"What?" he asked her, his eyes wide. "What do you mean? I don't understand!"

"I can feel it…" she said, tears falling down her cheeks. "One more. Just one more Jean Paul." Her legs buckled as she felt a sharp contraction. "Arrgh! Jean Paul!"

"Giselle!"

"I might not make it," she told him and his eyes widened.

"N-no! No, it'll be okay!" he assured her, holding her shoulders and staring into her eyes. "We're all getting out of here! The seven of us! We're all going to get out of here alive!"

"If it's a girl…" she sputtered. "N-Name her Marguerite…"

Jean Paul stared at his wife, tears now falling down his face as well as hers. "Wh-what?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Promise me!" she clutched his arm, the contraction hitting her again. "Please, promise me!"

"We'll name her together!" he told her, attending to her. "Look! Her head is coming out!"

Just then, Giselle burst into a coughing fit, and blood spattered all over her dress. Jean Paul gasped, looking up, only to get a hard cough of blood in his own face. He didn't pay it a second thought though as he felt her face. "G-G-Gi…Giselle…you've got to keep going! Just a bit more!" He couldn't control his tears as he looked at his pained wife. "Y-You made it this far! Just a little more!"

"That's when it happened…" Jean Paul murmured, and Lost looked up at him. Tears were once again welling up in his eyes. "It was a horrible feeling. When I finally realized…that my wife was about to die. I finally realized…that those were my final moments with her…"

"It's almost out!" he told her. "It's a girl! Just like you said it would be! Giselle!" he looked up, his voice choking and cracking as he tried to talk to his wife. The baby was already crying, but no sound came from Giselle.

"Giselle?"

Jean Paul pulled the baby out and looked at her. She was the smallest, probably the most premature, and she cried just as loud as the others. "Marguerite," he told her. "See? We named her together. Marguerite."

Silence.

He looked over at his wife, the baby Marguerite in his arms, and he gasped as he saw blood pooling around Giselle's mouth. "J-Jean Paul…" she sputtered.

"GISELLE!" he screamed, grasping her head and lifting her up to look at him. "Oh God, Giselle, please look at me! L-look!" he showed her Marguerite. "It's the last one! A baby girl! She's got…sh-she-she's got…got your eyes!"

"Jean Paul…" Giselle sputtered again, coughing. "I love…you…"

"I love you too…" he said, his voice so soft that he doubted Giselle could hear it. So he said it again, louder, "I love you forever…my angel."

"I love you…my brilliant scholar," she murmured. Jean Paul leaned down and kissed his bloodied and battered wife. Then, suddenly, her lips dropped from his as her head fell to the ground.

"GISELLE!" he screamed, grasping her head in his hand. He looked at her and tried to shake her awake, but he already knew the truth behind his wife's condition.

"She was dead."

Lost's eyes widened as the story finished. "S-so…so I was the last baby to be born."

"You're the one that killed her," he snapped, looking at Lost with dark eyes. "The last one. She would have made it…after Xavier, and after Amelie, and after Alphonse, and even after Genevieve! They all…" he gritted his teeth and barked at her, "None of them killed her! It had to be you! You had no such mercy for your own mother!"

"NO!" Lost screamed, shaking her head. "It wasn't my fault! Mother was ill! You knew that!"

"She loved you until the end!" he screamed, grabbing Lost's shoulder and bringing her up to look him in the eyes. "She gave you her one name that she was saving! SHE GAVE IT YOU, YOU FILTHY MURDERER!" He threw Lost against the wall, and Lost fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, obviously unconscious.

"Father…you lost your temper," Amelie said.

"I know."

"Oh well," Xavier smirked. "Want me to take out the trash?"

"No," Jean Paul shook his head, returning to his computer. "The computer gives me a report that we have a few intruders in our midst."

"What? Who?" Xavier asked, turning on his heel. "No way! Not that idiot! I killed him!"

"Seems you didn't do a very efficient job," Genevieve smirked cruelly at her brother, who flashed her a warning gaze. "Oh well. Want me to do away with him this time Father?"

"All of you, report to your floors," he told them. "I'll direct them in that direction."

"No fair," Genevieve snapped, stomping her foot. "Xavier gets to kill them first! By the time they get to me, they'll just be corpses! How fun is that?"

"You'll do as you're told," Jean Paul snapped. "Now…I think it's time I give our guests a little welcome."

"What about her?" Xavier asked, pointing to Lost as though she were an annoying object in the way.

"Take to your floor," Jean Paul told him. "You can do what you want."

"Thank you Father," Xavier grinned, throwing Lost over his shoulders and walking through the dark hall, his three siblings following him. "And this time," Xavier grinned, "I'll be sure to do away with him."

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