(OOG: If Rune hadn't taken the part of Synclair for this, it never would have gotten done, and Azusa was a huge help in making this a decent post as well...... thanks VERY much to both of them! My inspiration seems to have taken a slight vacation......)

"Oh lord......"

Cyrene sighed, eyeing the pile of folders outside on the patio, covered by dried blossoms and yellow-green leaves. A thin layer of dust seemed to have settled over them, and she rolled her eyes, berating herself silently for leaving her work outside. She mentally kicked Synclair as well, for distracting her from the folders in the first place.

Of course, it wasn't -completely- his fault...... but the trip to Aquavy, however pleasant it had turned out to be, had certainly proven time consuming.

But...... pleasant. Cyrene sighed. She supposed he was right on that point; she needed to get away from her work once in awhile, or she'd end up killing herself. She hadn't realized........ not that it mattered, really...... she could not afford such leisure often...... It was almost too bad she had agreed to go -- now she would realize exactly what she was missing.

But it had been..... nice......

The patio doors glided open at her touch, swinging outward on silent hinges. Cool, scent-laden fingers of wind brushed her face, lifting her disarrayed hair from her shoulders in a light caress. Dried petals swept across the flagstones as well, gathering at the hem of her skirt.

All in all, it was a beautiful night -- certainly perfect for contemplation. It was a shame she would have to waste it looking over intelligence reports.

But...... well, nothing said the queen couldn't do her work outside, now did it?

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps, a pair of boots falling on the stone paths within the gardens. Cyrene glanced over as Synclair walked towards her, stopping a yard away to bow slightly, in deference to her position.

"Back so soon?" she asked softly with a slight smile, turning her gaze back to the garden. "I hope you haven't come with any extra work...... I think they've given me enough to bury the cathedral in Nisan."

"I'm afraid that I had to leave my stack of reports back on my desk... I'm not certain that I would even have been able to carry them out to my, my lady." Synclair replied, a small smile crossing his face. "In truth, I am simply enjoying the rather pleasent night tonight... I hadn't thought that I would find you out here."

Cyrene shrugged, wrapping her arms in her cloak and folding her arms across her chest to keep warm. "How can I go back to my office after such an evenful trip? Besides...... it's one of those rare nights, tonight. It isn't often so balmy up here, to my recollection. It's.... been quite awhile, hasn't it?"

Synclair nodded, staring out into the empty expanse of the night sky. "Yes... it has been a while. Five hundred years, or close to it. Ever since we set out for Nisan for the 'battle'." He shook his head, looking down at his feet.

"Well......" Cyrene said after a long pause. "You are the one who always says we should not blame ourselves for that, right?" She sighed, clenching her fists around the dark velvet of her cloak. "Not that I ever listen......"

"I say that because carrying around that type of guilt can't be healthy... I look at you, and I see it tearing you apart sometimes." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, still looking out into the sky. "We all made mistakes... we all did what we thought was right."

She shook her head, trying to relax with his hand on her shoulder. "Queens aren't supposed to make mistakes......"

Her fists tightened, crushing the velvet between her fingers. How could one mistake be so...... so disasterous...... so terrible, that she was still suffering for it? No...... no, she could -not- forget what had happened, -or- her part in it. -She- had given the order. -She- was responsible. Queen Cyrene.

Did she even deserve that title anymore? Anyone with such poor judgement should be deposed; she didn't understand why Synclair continued to support her.

"But humans are. You have to let yourself be human at some point Cyrene, or you're going to crack. Even Sophia made mistakes, some of them grave errors that cost people their lives." Synclair looked down at her, his eyes almost expressionless. "But she went on... she never gave up. She honored the momory of the fallen, but she didn't let her compassion blind her to what needed to be done."

"And have I let myself lose sight of our goals? I have kept Shevat alive, and I've spent every possible resource to see Solaris fall......." She bit her lip, refusing to look his way. "Have I failed in those goals?

"I just..... don't have time......"

"You've kept us free, created a haven for those who wish to escape from Solaris. You've done that, even with Mordon and the Ministry after you head... even when they have take over the rest of the world."

Synclair looked down at her, and smiled. "And we have time. We all made a promise back then, that none of us would die before we atoned for what we have done. Solaris WILL fall."

"True......." Her voice was a whisper. "True...... they will fall, before I die. I'll see to it......"

How ironic...... she couldn't help but be amused at the fact that she -- a Solarian by heritage, if not birth -- was so adamantly against her people. It was hard to remember, sometimes, just where she had come from......

Or rather, it had been hard. Now...... now, it had been so long, she could not even recall her own mother's face, or her voice...... or the home she had grown up with, the family she had loved. The only faces sharp in her memory were those belonging to the friends she had betrayed. The friends who had eventually accepted her, even after finding out what she really was......

"Do you ever....... Do you ever wish you -could- die, Synclair? So many things......" She trailed off, losing power over her voice. **So many things could have been better.**

"No... I don't wish I had died. We... I have a responsability to the people who depend on us, the people that we care about. Dying wouldn't do anything except serve Solaris, and hurt them." Synclair tightened his grip reassuringly on her shoulder. "If we give up... we will never know what might have been, will we?"

"What might have been......" Her mouth quirked in a little smile. "But we have to live with what we are, don't we? Not worth dying for as far as I can see...... but I suppose it's better than what could have happened." She shook her head, still biting her lip. "I was too young, Synclair. I shouldn't have been on the throne in the first place, and you know it. If you hadn't stopped me......"

Syclair shook his head. "Thats not something I want to consider. Else... we might have ended up on oppostie sides of the field, instead of on this side. And Sophia would not have stood a chance with you against her as well." He gave her another squeeze. "She always spoke highly of your courage for following your heart..."

Cyrene couldn't help a bitter burst of laughter. "Yes, I did live up to that one, didn't I? Until the last."

"And past it as well. I think Sophia understood... she just didn't trust Solaris. If she thought that they would stop the war simply by capturing her, or if she surrendered... don't you think she would have done it?" Synclair chuckled at that. "But I think she understood how you felt. You were trying to save lives... the most precious things that exsist."

She was silent. What was it in her that made her do this? He was right; her mind told her he was right. But she still felt her soul bleeding....... whether the wound was five hundred years old, or simply reopened every time she stopped to think about it, she did not know.

But perhaps it was better, for her to do this. If she was to continue to live, she would have to atone somehow. Jumping ship hadn't been her only mistake......

Synclair smiled, and pulled of his jacket. "Do you mind if I help you with these reports? It might help the time go by faster."

She blinked, shivering a bit in a sudden breeze. Was it really that cold? "Yes, of course." She smiled, glancing at the pile of folders on her patio table. "Trust me, I need the help. Especially with the Ka--"

She froze, narrowing her eyes at the table.

"What is it?" Synclair tightened his grip on her sholder, turning her partially around.

Cyrene strode quickly toward the table, drawing him along. "The folder is gone. Your reports on Kaminoshi are -gone-." She hurriedly sifted through the pile of reports, finding all but the one she sought. "Gone......."

"What...? But who could have taken it?" Synclair asked, quickly running through the reports as Cyrene put them aside. "Should I notify security?"

She stopped short, straightening from the table. Just that morning...... "Yes, who..... -who- could have taken it......." Only her aid had access to her quarters, and she had no reason to steal a report on something she already knew. But that one other.....

"Surprise visitor......." Cyrene set the report she had been holding down, carefully.

"A surprise visitor...? Wait, do you mean that girl?" Synclair asked quietly.

"Yes." She turned to look up at him, into his sharp chameleon eyes. "She seemed rather...... appalled, to see that folder, though she thought she hid it." Something clicked into place, and Cyrene narrowed her eyes again, turning her gaze to the spot the girl had held, hours ago. "Do you remember Doctor Kaminoshi's family, Synclair? Any of them?"

"Not very well, I'm afriad... I do recall that he was a research scientist of some type, if I'm not mistaken. Did that girl have some connection to Doctor Kaminoshi?"

"It was 'Mariko', Synclair. 'Mariko...... Kaminoshi'. His beloved daughter, whom he could not help but talk about during Court gatherings. Just like her......"

"What?" Synclair said, shock regestering on his face. "But... if his daughter sees what is in that file..." he stopped, running the possibilites through his head. "She just might..."

"I can't believe I couldn't......" Cyrene closed her eyes a moment. "Well, if she is the one who stole the report......." She sighed, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze again. "Set a watch on her. I'll have to find an excuse to see her, perhaps...... but we don't know, yet, if she is the one. Best to wait a bit, first."

Synclair nodded, his eyes flashing slightly. "I shall begin at once." With a bow, he turned and walked from the garden, his heels clicking on the path as he departed.

If she was right...... if this was the same Mariko....... Cyrene watched Synclair take his leave, berating herself for missing the possibility for so long. Kaminoshi's presence in Shevat wasn't -that- far removed, as yet.

But then again, 'Mariko' wasn't exactly a rare name. And the girl's coloring could come from any number of civilizations, even that of Shevat itself. What were the odds of having Kaminoshi's daughter fall into her lap? Not very likely...... It was something to think about, but hardly likely to be true.

Still...... Well, if it -was- the same girl, or even -not-....... things were going to be interesting.......

Very interesting......

/Breathe. Now breathe again./

She didn't know why she was remembering that right now-- or why she was feeling this sudden empty calmness, like a great breath of cool air in her head.

She heard the voice now, an echo trapped inside her mind.

("When you ever start to get that feeling like you're going to explode, stop thinking about everything for a second and just breathe. It gets air into your body, into your brain. You'll be able to think more clearly. Just concentrate on breathing...")

It felt like she'd been crying all night, now, and steady, regular breathing was stubbornly refusing to come naturally.

But maybe-- maybe, now, with no more strength to cry out the tears, with no feeling left inside her-- maybe now she could think about things rationally. Just a bit.

Mariko rolled over on her bed with a rustle of unused covers and stared at the grey mass of the ceiling. The cold glow of dawn was beginning to seep through the edges of the window. With a sigh that sounded more adult than child, she brushed hair from her damp eyes and clutched the folder to her chest-- the precious folder, the stolen folder.

Would it be better to have never known? Or would she inevitably have sought out the truth one way or another, unable to hold out under the terror of ignorance? At any rate, it was too late to worry about that now.

Her father was alive.

Shevat knew where her father was. Shevat knew what her father was doing.

They had not let her know.

For that-- for that, she had felt, just for a moment, as if she despised this country and its pretty girlish queen more than everyone in Solaris put together. She didn't really and truly hate them, she had decided finally, but she was certainly angry. Not only had they themselves turned away from the truth, but they were hiding it from the people who needed to know.

There was so much she didn't understand, even now. No, more than that-- the confusion was worse now than ever.

All through dinner she had sat, irritable, impatient, fidgeting mindlessly and stirring at her uneaten food. No sooner had Aunt Kaori and Uncle Genian set her free from her bondage there than she had dashed up to her room, rifling frantically through her innocent-looking schoolbag to make sure it still contained the information she might well be branded a traitor for possessing.

After reading it, she had understood less than before. And she had wept-- for the last five hours, drifting in and out of fitful sleep, by the reckoning of the clock at her bedside.

Nothing in all the folder's contents-- an old identification sheet concerning her father and his work, a thick research paper on something called "neural integration" (which she hadn't been able to make heads or tails of) and a sheaf of cryptic, short "transmission reports"-- had indicated that Shevat had so much lifted a finger to help the man whom the transmissions had reported to be "forced to continue work." What was the "first prototype"? Who was "Synclair," and who was "Gwynn," the two people mentioned so often in the reports? Or "Mordon" and "Myaru," who had been mentioned in connection to the people heading the entire project? What was the "Ministry" that one of the reports had mentioned-- the Ministry of Defense? The Minstry of Housing? Or something in Solaris?

There were no answers to be found. Only questions upon questions, heaped upon her head like burning coals.

And the knowledge of what she had done hovered grimly over her conscience, scolding her with sharp jabs of fear.

(Summary: Cyrene and Synclair discuss their past, and find out the folder marked 'Kaminoshi' is missing. Mariko reads the report on her father, and finds more questions than answers.)