I always loved music. Hearing it, playing it, feeling it vibrate through my body. It was a part of life for me, I couldn't stand to sit anywhere for more that half an hour without some kind of sound. I started playing again my senior year in high school. That was when everything started to go down hill, and fast. One day I was just sitting there, my fingers resting on its keys. I just started playing; I hadn't play in years so it was odd trying to make music on it. I played for an hour, no real music, just making noise. Soon it all fell into a rhythm, my life and the music. Every day I'd come home from school, put all my things in my room then go down and play my music for an hour, the next hour I'd do homework. Then I'd go to Karate, getting home after my mother.

I never told her I was playing again. If I did, I knew my mother would but me in lessons, in attempt to give me what I wanted. But I didn't want lessons. I just wanted to play, to make music from my head. About a mouth after I started playing again, my mother noticed something was different.

"Have you noticed? The piano seems cleaner, like it has its own glow," She said midweek. Dad wasn't home, and my older brother was at college for a couple more weeks, so it was just her and me sitting at the dinner table.

I didn't even blink, "Yeah, I noticed that too. Have you been playing it or something?"

She pouted, "That's what I wanted to ask you."

I took another bite of the bland food, and pretended to contemplate that, "May be we have a ghost."

"Ohh… Don't be silly Ally, there's no such thing as ghosts. You know better." My mother said going back to her food.

"It's Alix or Dalka. Not Ally, mom." I said tired of telling her this.

"You're my daughter, I'll call you what I like. I don't know how you're father ever talked me into letting your grandfather name you." She scoffed, "Dalibora Alixis Hesperus, What was that man thinking?"

I sighed knowing better than to fight her about this, I just kept eating.

It was almost another month before any one found out I was playing the piano again. I was my brother who found out. I was playing, eyes closed, ears only for the music, rocking my body back and forth with the music. I never even heard him come in. It was the feeling of being watched that made my turn. He was sitting on the couch. He looked like he'd been there a while.

"Don't stop, you sound great." He smiled at me. I noticed the bag of clothes sitting next to him. He'd come home to wash clothes.

I stood up, "I have to get to my homework." I lied and started to head upstairs.

He grabbed my wrist, "Dalka, don't lie to me. It's bad for you to hold things like that in." He was, of course, referring to my music, I'd been playing a very sad song grandpa had taught me long ago.

I was turned away from him, I looked down at my feet I couldn't look him in the eye. "Please, don't tell mom." I pulled out of his grasp and ran to my room, embarrassed at how small my voice had sounded. I didn't see my brother, again, until dinner. He never breathed a word about my music to mom.

The next month was peaceful. I kept to my normal rhythm, except the two days my father was home. My brother stayed at school most of the time and only called twice, spending most of the time talking to me. I sent a letter to my grandfather, telling him I was playing again, and about everything that had happened since my last letter. Yep, my luck was running pretty smoothly, until it ran out.

It was a typical Tuesday, I decided to change my schedule for that one time, I'd already done my homework and changed into my gee. I was sitting in front of the piano, playing with my eyes closed, my practice sword and belt next to me, waiting for me to be ready for my evening class.

There was a not-so-quiet crash, as keys, bags, and other things my mother had been caring fell to the hard wood floors that covered the entire lower level of the house. "Ally!?!?" I heard her say.

My finger stopped mid-attack, hovering over the keys. My eyes flew open, and I stared horrified at the piano in front of me, my mother stood behind me, in the doorway, her things scattered on the floor around her. "Honey, that was…"

"I'm late for my class," I interrupted, grabbing my things from the bench and floor, and then running past her. I heard the bench crash to the floor as I pulled open the front door and ran for my truck. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want my mother to ruin my freedom, the freedom I'd been feeling for the past month and a half.

By habit I drove to my dojo, and then because I was early I sat in front of the door for twenty minute waiting for the sensei to arrive. When he did, he looked at me concerned but asked no questions, I would talk to him when I was ready. I stayed late that night, helping him with three classes after my own. I didn't want to face my mother alone at that big dinner table, in that silence. I got home late. I was tired and vaguely remembered to grab something to eat while I took a hot bath, to sooth my aches, before flopping into my over sized bed, the hideous pink comforter on it this week, and passing out.

The next day I left for school early, and in the afternoon left for my karate class equally early, doing my best to stay out of my mother's sight. I was smart enough to bring my homework with me when I left, so I wasn't stuck sitting around, this time for an hour, with nothing to do.

My week passed that way, until Saturday. My brother was coming home that weekend, he'd promised my mother, and my father would be home the entire weekend, a rare occurrence for him, so there was no way I would be able to get out of Saturday night dinner. I was lucky enough to stay in my room the entire day, there was no way I'd be able to worm my way out of the first dinner my father had been home for, in three weeks. The only good thing was that I got a letter back from my grandfather; I didn't have a chance to read it because I really was doing homework. I thought I'd save it for after dinner, when I knew I'd need the support of what ever he'd written me.

Dinner was almost normal, my mother and father both talked about their friends telling each other the funny things that had happened that week. My brother felt my uneasiness, but kept it to himself, until she brought IT up.

"Oh! Dearest, you'll never believe what I came home early from my doctor's appointment to find our daughter doing." She said happily.

"Oh? What?" He said lively

"Playing on Great-grandma's piano. You should have heard her. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever head. Like she'd never quit playing." My brother looked at me over the bite he'd been about to take. I looked back down at my plate.

"Is this true, Alix?" My father said a happy tone to his voice.

I nodded silently, picking at my food. I knew what was going to come next.

"You know, Phillip, I think we should sign her back up for lessons. She can quit that awful Ka-whatever class, and take piano instead." She said taking a sip from her wine glass. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I turned to look at her. I'd expected lessons, but giving up Karate, that was a low blow. "It's much more lady like, nobody wants a girl that can beat them up. Ally, dear, it's rude to stare like that."

"You can't take my karate classes!" I yelled at her, close to tears. She couldn't take the thing that made me fell close to grandpa, Could she?

"Do not yell at me, Alixis." She set her glass down, "And for your information, I can do as I please, I am the adult here."

"Mother," My brother said trying to help me, "I don't think it's fair to take away something Alix loves. Besides, it was grandpa's suggestion she take it, and he pays for it any way. Don't you think we should decide this as a family? You know all five of us?"

My mother's glare turned to him, she smiled sweetly, "We are discussing this, and your father and I are talking about how to better improve your sister." My jaw dropped, she was talking about me as though I wasn't even there.

"Mom, Alix is sixteen, in her first semester as a senior in high school, and every college in the country wants her to go to their school." He stated, "She has her own truck, job, and savings account, all of which were her ideas. I think since she is about to go out into the world, Alix should be allowed to make this dissection on her own." He turn to my father, "Don't you think so, father?"

"Sara, I think our son has a point," My father said in my favor.

"Posh," My mother said, "She's only sixteen, at that age I couldn't have cared less about what I had to do as long as I was comfortable."

"Never the less, I think it would be appropriate if we asked her." He turned to me, and I looked back at him still horrified at loosing the activity I was best at, and the one Grandpa had taught me. "Alix, these piano lessons would look good on a college résumé. Now will you be willing to take them?"

"I'm not giving up my Karate." I said stubbornly.

My mother looked as though she was about to say something, but my father held up a finger, and continued in a calm tone. "That isn't even on the table right now. Do you wish to take piano lessons again?" He repeated the question.

I took a deep breath. I knew my mother would be upset with what I had to say, but this was the one time I wasn't going to back down. "No."

My mother erupted, "WHAT!!!!!!"

"I don't want to take piano lessons. It's too much to take piano, go to school, go to Karate, go to work and still find time to do my homework." I was about to say something else but my mother interrupted me.

"Well I think there are at least two things that can be cut from that list." She snapped.

"Mom, for once in your life, listen to me. I don't want lessons. I'm happy the way things are, I like being able to play what ever comes into my mind. I'm not going to take lessons." I said pleading with her.

"Oh yes you are! Monday there will be a teacher here waiting for you, and tomorrow morning I'm calling that Sens-whatever-he-is, and canceling all further lessons. I'll also be calling you boss to give him your two weeks notice."

"Mother, please," I was on the verge of tears.

"Sara, Alix said she doesn't want lessons." My father tried to help.

"Mom, come on, have a heart." My brother said with my father.

My mother put the fork she'd picked up back down, "That's enough. Samuel, you have no right to say such a thing to my. And as for you to…" She looked at my father and me, "This discussion is over. I do everything for the both of you and you still try to fight me when I'm doing something that will help. Such impudence!"

I stood up, placing my napkin on the table, and started to leave.

"Were do you think you're going, young lady?" My mother demanded.

"I'm not feeling well. I'm going up to my room." Lie, I couldn't stand to be in the same room as that woman, she'd taken the thing that made me feel strong and independent and flushed it down the toilet. I headed up to my room ignoring further yells and anything I heard from downstairs. I closed my door and buried my face in my pillow. Tears wetted it, but all I cared about was not letting any one see.

How could my mother do this to me? I thought she didn't care what I did as long as it was appropriate, I got good grades and didn't embarrass her. She had always known how important my grandfather and the things he thought were to me. I'd often spent holidays, summer, even weekends at his home. My freshman year, when we'd lived closer, my brother took me there every day and would pick me up before dinner. I was the one who was most like my grandfather. I was the only one in the family with royal blue eyes, black hair and pale complexion. Every one else had my grandmother's brown eyes and brown hair. I was the only one who had never need glasses, or contexts. My grandfather had always been special, when I was little he'd taught me how to draw, and I had often fallen asleep as he told me stories. When I'd gotten older he started to teach me to fight and tricks to understand and remember math and science properties. Now that I was almost out of school, and my schedule had become so hectic, he settled for letters and visits on the holidays.

I finally pulled my face out from my pillow, it was sticky and my eyes were soar. I decided now would be a good time to go take a shower, and did so. While I was in the shower there was a phone call, I ignored, it was probably for my father any way. I got out of the shower and dried my shoulder length hair, leaving it with a famine curl, I'd strain it later. Now wearing a tank top and pajama pants I stepped out of the bath room. The lights to my room were on; I distinctly remember turning them off. My dad was sitting on the edge of my bed fiddling with something in his hands.

"Dad what's wrong?" I asked.

He pressed his lips together, trying to choose his word carefully. "Honey, you might want to sit down." I did so eyeing him carefully, "Honey, that was my… Your uncle. He called to tell me…" He took one of my hands into both of his, "Alix, sweet heart, Grandpa had a heart attack this afternoon. Your uncle called from the hospital. The doctors just came out of surgery."

I felt my heart skip a beat.

"Grandpa didn't make it. He's gone, I'm sorry."

"No," I said my mind trying wrap around what he'd just said. "I just got a letter from him to day. He never said he was sick in any of the other letters."

"He wasn't sick, Alix." My father told me, "He had a heart attack, the doctors couldn't do anything for him."

I was crying, "He can't be gone. I haven't played the piano for him, I'm suppose to show him my drawings at Christmas. There are things he promised we'd do this summer after I got out of school. He promised!" I shouted.

My brother came running in, "What happened? What's wrong?" He asked seeing me crying. My father told him as he wrapped me up in his arms, he was surprisingly calm. "When's the funeral?"

My father told him.

"I'll call my counselor in the morning, tell him I won't be able to make classes for a week or two."

My father nodded, "I'll cancel all my appointment, and we can head down to Arlington tomorrow. I'll call Alix's school while I'm at it, tell them she'll be out all week."

I finally regained control of my self, I stood suddenly, whipping my eyes and sniffling. I went to my closet. I searched through it trying find to my black clothes.

"Alix what are you doing?" My brother asked

"Finding my black clothes," I spoke with as little emotion as I could

"Why?"

My voice wavered, "To mourn."

"Do you want some help?"

"No, I'd like to be alone, thank you." I flipped passed blue tops, grey tank tops, white t-shirts, and other assorted colored shirts and skirts. I pulled every black piece of clothing out and placed it were I normally pulled my clothes from. I didn't have much, so I flipped through again and found all my dark clothes, Dark blues, beep purples.

My brother wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and kissed the back of my head, "I'm sorry, Alix. You'll be Ok, right?"

"I'll be fine," I lied. My brother left, and I was sure my father had too, because I couldn't feel him watching me. Once I finished I started to pack my bright clothes in with my summer clothes. I ran into two outfits that my grandfather and I had made, one was a royal blue coat with silver lining, and a silver sash, and matching pants. The other was a matching white full length coat and pants, lined like the other in silver, and a blue sash. The coats were silted in front and back, and I normally wore a simple black shirt under it. I closed my door and pulled on my blue coat, and pants and the black shirt. It smelled like grandpa's house, the inset smell of tobacco, though he hadn't smoked since before I was born, and the faint hints of the herbs my grandfather had used to keep away bugs. Even though these clothes had spent three years in my closet, they still smelled like grandpa's house. I gathered the other outfit, the arm guard with throwing knives, my boots with the dagger, and a drawstring bag. I carefully folded the clothed and placed them in the bag, adding the arm guard and boot dagger on top. I never wore any of this in school, but it was fun to play solider in it. Grandpa even let me drive his motorcycle around his neighborhood, while I was 'on mission.' I put my boots next to the bag on the floor, and went over to the hanging stand that held the sword he'd given me last year. I took it and the rack of the wall. The rack I set on the floor against the wall, and took the sword and slid it in to its sleeve. I didn't want to look at it ever again, but it was late so I placed it next to the bag intending to take both up to the attic in the morning.

I picked up Grandpa's letter and sat on the edge of the bed. I stared at it for a while. The envelope was the same cream color grandpa had used to write love letters to his long past wife, I'd never meet her she'd died not long after my birth. The handwriting was his always graceful style. I took a deep breath and opened the letter, the contents looked the same as the external. I read it slowly trying not to cry.

Dalka, my dearest angel, (he was the only one that called me by my first name, namely because he was the only one who could pronounce it properly.)

I'm proud to hear you've started to play the piano again. I remember how you use to play, Do you? You use to play as we both sang songs from the old country. I'm sure you abilities as a swordswoman have improved greatly, and I received your pictures a few weeks ago. I'm greatly impressed by your skill. I wonder how you would depict my self and my old comrades.

Forgive me for this, but this shall be my final letter to you. By the time you receive this, or read it, I'll have pasted away. I know my time is running short so I've already set things up for when I'm gone. The things I have left for you are my love, and a way to be happy.

I know you're not happy where you are. The only person besides my self that you have any good feelings toward is you brother. While Samuel is a good person, he is not a reason to remain somewhere you feel uncomfortable in. While I do not approve of letting you go anywhere while you're on bad speaking terms with you mother. Neither do I approve of you running away, but I do this because you should be happy. I believe you should tell your family, but I know you won't. So when your family gathers to hear my will I have placed a letter explaining where you are within the distributed items.

There is another letter for you brother, explaining where you really will be that's to be given to him five years from now. So now, my angel, tomorrow you'll find yourself in the place I spent ten happy years in. When you arrive look for an old friend of mine, I know he's still alive he's too stubborn to be dead yet, Major Grumman. At least he was a major when I last saw him, he could have moved up in rank. If he doesn't believe you're my granddaughter show him the pictures I've enclosed with this letter. I'm afraid trouble might find you, so take my old watch with you, I know you have it.

Don't be afraid, I'm always right next to you to guide you, even when you don't want the help. Know I'll always love you. Good bye, my angel.

Your loving grandfather,

The Flying Alchemist,

Fionnlagh, Fin, Hesperus

P.S. if he still doesn't believe you show him my signature. If that doesn't work I don't know what will.

I went over to my dresser, opened the smallest draw and pulled out grandpa's old silver pocket watch by the chain. It twirled wildly at the end, some of its shine was gone, but as I cupped it in my hand I could feel the still strong tick of its parts. The cover had a strange animal surrounded by a weird symbol, and edged with what looked like olive branches. I opened it, inside the numbers were roman numerals, there were no other things that made it unusual. I curled up on my bed, the watch in one hand, the letter in the other, both pressed close to my heart I soaked up the smell of my grandpa. I wanted to die.

"Grandpa, come back." I begged my sheets and matters, "I need you. Nothing can make me happy now that you're gone. Come back." I cried until my eyes hurt too much to cry, and I feel asleep to the sound of the watch ticking in time with my heart, I even forgot to turn my lights off.