Thanks for all the reviews, I'm really flattered. Yes, the young man was Scip.

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1

Scip's Return

Honet gasped as she woke with a start. She sat up, wiping the stinging tears from her face, and stared into the darkness.

She could hardly recall a night when she hadn't dreamt about that dreadful day, lived that moment over and over again. Six months had passed, and yet it seemed Prosper had not gone. There was a presence, something lurking in the corners of the house that remimded every one of it's inhabitants of that day, every minute, every hour. Their lives seemed to have come to a stand-still. Bo disappeared into his room for hours. Victor tried to convince them at every opportunity to leave the house, to get out. Ida buried herself in her work or spent whole days outside taking pictures. And Hornet? Hornet hid behind her books, pretending to read while her eyes brimmed with tears. He was always on her mind.

It was still dark outside; what time was it? She glanced at the red numbers of the alarm clock on the chair next to her bed. 3:56 a.m. The distant light of a street lamp shone through her window, throwing weak light onto the desk, the stacks of books on the shelf. Ida and Victor had done their best to make her comfortable, and still she wished she could trade it all for one day, one hour with Prop.

Sniffing angrily, she swung her legs out of her bed, reaching for the stack of clothes on the floor.

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It was freezing outside, but she merely buried her hands in her coat pockets and marched on. The cold was good. It helped her forget.

Strolling along the dirty canal, she watched her breath hanging in the air, felt the cold slowly creeping down her spine. It should have been spring by now, the first flowers everywhere, but this year it seemed as if the cold season just refused to admit defeat. Ice flowers covered the dirty little windows. It was too cold to be foggy, and yet the fog was everywhere, blurring the edges of reality, clouding the vision and the mind

Is this what dying feels like?, she asked herself. As if to match her mood, the old houses were clad in flaking paint, in broken windows, in rotting front doors. The street lamps shed a sickly yellow light onto the mist, showing her the way.

The city was silent, only the water beating against the canal walls could be heard in the darkness. Nothing stirred. No people, no pidgeons, not even rats.

Life, it seemed, had ceased to be.

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„Hornet."

She turned from the water's edge where she had been standing to look at the young man making his way towards her through the fog.

„Hello, Scipio," she said quietly.

He stared down at her akwardly for a moment. Hornet merely watched his face. He looked nothing like the Scipio she had known, his features still strange to her, even though she often thought of that moment when he had caught her in his arms. Ida had told her it had been Scipio. Hornet could not remember anything after those seconds, and when she had woken in the hospital the next day, he had been gone.

She had not seen him since.

Scipio could feel her eyes on him. Licking his dry lips, he met her gaze. He had known this wouldn't be easy.

„What're you doing out here?" he finally asked, feeling stupid.

„Walking. Wanna join me?"

He complied and, as they made their way along the canal, searched for a way to begin.

„So… How are you?"

Hornet shrugged. „Alright, I guess. The new house's okay. Ida's always worrying. I'm fine."

Scipio's gaze softened.

„Yeah, I miss him too," he said quietly.

Hornet wiped across her face once more, now that the tears she had forbidden herself were threatening to fall.

Scipio sighed, and for a moment, he pursed his lips just the way Prosper used to do.

Hornet blinked. As suddenly as it had appeared, the moment was gone.

Scip kicked away a pebble.

„You know, every morning I wake up and for one millisecond I ask myself why I'm miserable."

He sighed.

„And then there's that sickly moment when I remember."

Tears were brimming in Hornet's eyes.

„Do you dream about it?" she whispered.

Scip closed his eyes.

„Every night."

She wiped her face again as he struggled for the right words.

„Is Bo alright?" he finally asked.

Hornet shook her head.

„He won't talk to anyone, not even me. When Ida suggested he'd go to a psychiatrist he tipped over the cupboard with all the dishes in it. But he didn't make a sound."

She massaged her fingers to get the cold out.

„But who can blame him? He lost two brothers that day."

Scipio flushed. „Listen, I--"

„Oh, don't apologize to me, Scip. We all try to deal with it in our own ways. If you have to say sorry, say it to Bo. He misses you, I think."

She paused to look into his eyes.

„We all do."

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They walked in silence. Slowly life returned to the streets, easing the feeling of something haunted that had seemed to surround them. Rats rustled in the doorways. Some unfortunate workers were loading large crates from a boat, swearing softly in the cold. An icy breeze swept along the canal as if to remind them that the city of the moon was still in the clutches of the winter. Hornet shivered. Almost automatically, Scipio took of his scarf and handed to the girl, who wrapped it around her shoulders with a grateful smile.

She stopped suddenly.

„Won't it ever end?"

Scipio turned around to face her. For one moment, he thought she was talking about the cold, but then he saw she was crying again.

„I miss him so much it hurts, and it's been what, six months?"

Scipio bowed his head.

„167 days and 13 hours," he said, so quietly she almost didn't hear.

„It's no coincidence we met, is it?" she demanded with a soft smile.

A trace of rouge crept onto his cheeks. He shook his head, mouthed a silent „no".

„Are you out here every night?"

Scipio nodded.

„167 days, and you never managed to knock on our door?"

Again, he just shook his head.

Hornet took his hands into her own.

„But why?" she demanded, more forcefully this time.

Scipio didn't meet her eyes.

„I thought you'd be angry. That you'd hate me for abandoning you. And because I lied to you."

It took Hornet a few seconds to realize what he was taking about. Everything before that day seemed so many lifetimes ago.

„Oh Scip," she muttered, „I couldn't care less about what happened back then. You're my friend, and I've forgiven you long ago. I'm sure the others don't feel any different."

„Hornet…", Scipio whispered

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A crate crashed onto the pavement next to them.

„Oy, you there!" one of the workers called, gesturing with one gloved hand, „Get yourself and yore girlfriend away from there, can't cha see you're in the way?"

Hornet just stared at the man; she looked as though she couldn't decide whether to hit him or burst into tears once more.

Scipio managed to control his anger.

Carefully placing his arm around Hornet's shoulders, he shot the worker his dirtiest look and lead the girl into an alley.

„Come on, I'll take you home…"