Elizabeth stared at the window, working on her embroidery. It had been two weeks since the rats had left, two weeks she'd been left wondering what had happened to them. She'd received no word of their safe arrival, but then they were under no obligation to do so. She sighed, staring down at the white cloth in her hands. She'd been working on a scene from her nightmares, the dreams that had haunted her since she'd seen that shadow hobbling from the abandoned rosebush. She'd heard the scientists say they'd found holes, nothing but holes and tunnels, filled with little more than garbage and ashes.

They shouldn't have any clues now. She could hear her children in the other room, playing with their brother. Timothy was recovering rapidly, and she knew he'd be better before too much longer. Yet she wasn't sure she wanted to make the trek to their summer home, as they had every year, but decided to ask them about it. She put down her embroidery, straightening her cape as she got to her feet. The pale, ragged piece of cloth had been a gift from Jonathan, back when they'd first met. It had been beautiful then, a deep, vivid red that reminded him of roses, of summer's greatest sunsets. She'd never known anybody so romantic.

"Children," she looked in to see the older two reading, the younger slowly falling asleep in their laps. The sight made her forget why she'd come there.

"We don't want to move," spoke Martin, quietly so he wouldn't wake Timothy. "Teresa and I already talked about it."

"What do the others think?"

Cynthia shifted, her eyes closed. "No…move," she murmured. Timmy seemed to nod in agreement.

"We like it here," said Teresa. "And besides, what if the rats come back?" by 'rats' however, she really just meant one of them. "If they want to see us, they'll know where we are."

Her mother was about to agree, when she remembered the shadow from the day before. She had a feeling she hadn't seen the last of it. In a moment she reached a decision, then sighed. "Alright, we'll stay a little while longer, but it would be best if we moved soon. We don't want the men from NIMH seeing us if they decide to come back."

"Why not?"

She shook her head. "It's better you don't know," she told them, then went back to the living room. She stared at the window, seeing small clouds drift across the sky, watching the world change as spring progressed. It was so peaceful, but she knew it was only the prelude to something drastic; it always was.

Justin sighed, feeling confused. He was sitting in his office, staring out the small window over his desk. The sun had just set, the stars coming out one by one. He rubbed at the bandages, feeling the moisture of perspiration. He wanted nothing more than for spring to be over, for summer to pass, and for fall to be done with. He wanted winter to come, so he could invite her to the valley without arousing too much suspicion. Rumors were already beginning to circulate, but he knew stopping them would be just as bad as openly confirming them.

How can I even feel this way? He'd asked himself that question since they'd met, repeatedly telling his heart that he knew nothing about her, that it would never work between them; but he couldn't make his soul believe it.

I wonder how she feels…he shook his head, then glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of him. His pen fell to the floor. Without his knowing, his random scratches had transformed into an image of her. The perfect, flowing lines did her no justice. He was about to toss it when something made him stop. It was the realization that he may never see her again. Not only was the life of a normal mouse short, it was dangerous too, and there was a good chance she would die before her time. He shivered at the thought, then tucked the picture away in the blank pages of his journal; his personal one, not the one Nicodemus had used. That one had been locked away, taken out only once a week to be updated with the progress of their colony. He stared at the book after he'd closed it, running his nails over the soft leather cover. Sullivan had given it to him, a birthday present he'd made back before they could read. He'd never gotten along with his older brother, but that day shone in his memory, as well as the night they'd escaped from their cages. The mice hadn't been the only ones to blow away.

Justin had been small then, not much heavier than a juvenile. The only reason he'd made it out alive had been Sullivan, who'd grasped his arm when the fans started up. He'd almost managed to save one of the mice, but her paw had slipped from his. Her horrified screams haunted him to this day. That poor girl, he thought, shaking head. Her life was cut short…he looked up at a knock on his door, tucking the journal back in its drawer.

"Come in," he said, barely able to keep his voice calm. A few seconds passed before Izzy entered, dressed in a short pink gown with no sleeves.

"Justin?"

"A bit cool for that, isn't?" he asked. He turned to face her, glancing at the dress. She blushed, pushing hair from her eyes.

"Well, I-I…I just thought…" she trailed off, becoming lost in his dark brown eyes. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. He then uttered a low sigh.

"Isabella," his words were slow, his tone deliberate. "Listen, I know how you feel about me, and I've been meaning to tell you…" he ran a hand through his hair, wondering how he could say it. He breathed deeply, staring into her wide, eager face. When at last he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "T-There's someone else."

Her face fell. "W-What?"

"There's someone else," he repeated, more firmly.

"Who?" her eyes shone with tears, but she did her best to stay composed. "Justin, who is it?"

He sighed again. "It's…Elizabeth…"

"Elizabeth?" she looked slightly confused. "You mean that…" she gasped, then giggled. "So that's why you were acting so strangely…"

He startled, staring open-mouthed at her. "What? You knew?"

"Justin, I'm not stupid," she sat on a plain stool. "And I'm also not in love with you."

"Then, why were you…"

"Sullivan didn't tell you?"

Justin shook his head. "Tell me what?"

"Oh, I forgot you two didn't talk…" she tapped her mouth, then shook her head. "Sullivan was my father," she admitted. "My mother died giving birth to me."

Justin was stunned into silence. Isabella, the girl he'd thought was in love with him, was his niece? "Why didn't he ever tell me?" he asked, leaning forward. "And why the hell did you act like that around me?"

"Why most girls do," she said, smiling. "I wanted to get your attention, and dad was always talking about telling you, but he never worked up the courage, apparently. And now that he's gone…" she trailed off, suddenly sobbing into her hands. Justin didn't know what to think. This girl he'd thought was infatuated with him, was his brother's daughter? The knowledge struck like a body blow, knocking the wind out of him. He sat there, speechless, able to do little more than stare as her tears subsided, as she lifted her head to reveal reddened brown eyes, Sullivan's eyes.

"Izzy…" he stood, resting a hand on her shoulder. In a minute she looked up at him, smiling through her tears.

"I'm not blaming you," she managed. She wiped at her eyes. "He gave his life to save yours, and Mrs. Brisby's…he got his revenge for Jenner killing Nicodemus," she stopped again, rising to her feet. "He gave his life to make things right…and I'm proud of that."

Justin stared at her. She couldn't have been lying if she was acting this way, thinking so much like the brother he'd lost. He looked away, fighting to swallow tears of his own. But when he looked back, the child was gone, the door shut.