"I look down at my brother's face again. To my surprise, he appears peaceful. His skin looks tan, not pale like I'd assumed it would. I half expect his eyes to flutter, his mouth to smile. Bits of dried blood flake off onto my hands. When I try to brush then off, they stick to my skin. I don't know if this is what sets off my anger. My hands start shaking so hard that I press then against Metias's cloths in an attempt to steady them. I'm supposed to be analyzing a crime scene... but I can't concentrate. 'You should have taken me with you,' I whisper to him. Then I lean my head against his and begin to cry. ... Too soon, soldiers come to take Metias to the morgue."

I sit up with a gasp, suddenly awake. I can feel my hands shaking. It was just a dream, I think at first, then I remember that it's real. I bring my hands up to my face to try and stop the shaking. My cheeks are wet with fresh tears. I close my eyes and breathe slowly.

Then I hear a quiet moan beside me in the darkness. "June?" says Day's voice. "June, is everything okay?"

I look down at Day, who's rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake up enough to see. "Everything's fine," I reply, still a little short of breath. "I just had a nightmare, that's all." I wipe my eyes and try to wipe away any evidence that everything is not fine. I still keep Day from waking up from his nightmares screaming, but with me waiting for him to fall asleep every night, there's no one to protect me.

"Oh," Day says. "Well, are you okay?" Day gets his answer quickly after that, when my attempts to settle down fail, and I sob quietly, tears quickly combing back. "Oh, June," Day says, his voice full of worry. He sits up and looks at me. Upon seeing the look on my face, he immediately knows what's wrong. "Was it about your brother?" he asks quietly. My choking sob and small nod give him an answer. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and puts his lips in top if my head. "I'm sorry, June." He murmurs into my hair.

"I just miss him so much." I manage. Then I remember that Day has been through the same loss that I've been through. I bring my hand up to his face and look into his eyes. I can tell that he's on the brink of crying. "Hey," I whisper. "What about you? Are you okay?"

Day closes his eyes, obviously not wanting tell me the truth. "I," he begins. "I'm okay."

"Day," I say, urging him to say what's on his mind. "It's okay. You can tell me the truth. You always worry about my pain. But you never let me worry about yours."

Day hesitates, knowing that I've seen through his lies, even though I've warned him about it before, more than once. "Honestly?" He says, finally opening up. "I miss my brother too." A small, yet silent tear slowly runs down his cheek. He runs his hands through his hair, leaving it in a thrown off state, which annoys me immensely. After turning to face Day and sitting with my legs folded together, I bring up one hand and smooth his messy hair down, slowly brushing my fingers through the soft strands. I give him a tight smile of understanding.

Day brings a hand up to my necklace, grasping the plastic part I was given earlier today. He slowly rubs his thumb across the surface of the coin. "I remember the day my father brought home that coin," He whispers. "My mother was so scared, my father was proud, and us three boys were just plain excited. We didn't know of the major consequences back then, we just knew it was bad if you got caught. Life was so simple then, when we were all innocent, alive." Day looks up at me, his eyes searching mine. "I'm not saying it was easy, but life is pretty simple when your son isn't yet a hated criminal."

"Hey," I say, cutting him off. "Just so you know, I never really hated you, not until I thought you had killed my brother. I mean, you were the enemy of course, but, I definitely didn't hate you. If anything, I respected you. You were faster and more agile than the top students at my schools. You were amazing in my eyes. The government may have disliked you, but I think there was a secret respect inside us all for you." I bring my hand up to his where he's still holding onto my necklace, covering his hand with my own. "Don't say that you were hated, because you weren't."

"June," Day mutters, releasing my necklace and putting his hands on either side of my face, telling me to listen to what he was about to say. Instead of speaking up, he closes his eyes and begins to breathe heavily. When he opens his eyes again, they shine with unshed tears. "How can you say that I wasn't hated? I know that people hated me, I was the country's most wanted criminal for a reason!"

"There may have been a few who didn't like you," I begin, not sure how to respond. "But, nobody's perfect. Not even you." I say, pocking a finger lightly into his chest and smiling, trying in vain to lighten the mood. Too many tears have been shed today. I think to myself.

Day looks up at me as he runs a hand through his hair again, sighing. "You're right," he mutters, laying back down. "No one's perfect."

I reach my fingers up to my lips, and then touch my finger tips to his forehead, a tradition we've had for so long. I used to do when we first met after his amnesia, pretending that it would bring his memories back, saving us constant struggles. Day closes his eyes as my fingers brush his skin. I bring my hand back, and lay back down, closing my eyes, but only for a second before I open them again. "Goodnight, Day." I whisper. "Love you."

"Love you, too," he replies. "Goodnight."