Arden sat at the window while some of her favorite music played. She was always playing the most gloomy classical music she could find. The gloomy part was to match her typical mood… The rain was pelting it’s way at her, only to be stopped by the window. She was surrounded by candles and black. Always black.

     He had bought her roses. She always made him think of Trowa, and Quatre had always said that Trowa was best suited in roses. He wasn’t really sure why he connected her with Trowa in his mind, but he did. And roses seemed to fit anyway. Dark, blood red roses. She always wore long sleeves to cover up the scars that methodically ran around her wrists. She had been thorough in her ten attempts at suicide before. Now she just smiled when she saw him and said,

     “I had always figured that Death refused to come to me. Now I realize I was merely meant to accompany Him.” Duo quietly walked over to where she was and wrapped his arms around her. She was cold, like usual.

     “Hello, Duo,” she whispered.

     “My Angel,” he smiled. She dropped her head at this. Why did he always say that?

     “Do you know what time of year it is?” She glanced out the window. She never paid attention to the date, the time, anything. She wasn’t sure how old she was, or what year it was. She didn’t really care. It was all the same to her: Just too long before it was all over.

     “Well, you can’t tell it by the weather here,” he quietly said to her. “But it’s almost Christmas time.”

     “Oh,” she whispered again. This meant nothing to her, and they both knew it. It’s not that she didn’t know what Christmas was, she just had no feelings attached to it.

     “I was thinking,” he smiled. “That I would like to go see my friends. And I’d like you to see them too.” She tensed up more than usual.

     “Oh, Duo, I don’t think-“

     “Arden,” he insisted. “Don’t worry about anything. You are who you are, and that is the Angel that I love. You have nothing to fear.” She twisted around and looked into his eyes. “Nothing,” he said only with his lips. She dropped her eyes.

     “Love.” He quickly glanced at the ceiling. This word was probably the scariest thing to her. She was more than she realized. She was, to her, an empty shell, a body with no soul. But she was, he knew, a magical Angel, full of everything, and he saw this in her eyes. It was merely the work that it took to get his Angel to show.

     “I want you to come and meet my friends, Arden. I want them to meet you.” .

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