Rico enjoyed cleaning her gun.

It was an easy, monotonous task that allowed her mind to empty of thought while she concentrated only on the smooth motion of the rag caressing the barrel, and she hummed slightly as she worked. Did she enjoy humming? Yes. Was she a good singer? No. And Triela had not hesitated to point that out to her in the first weeks they had known each other.

"I swear, Rico, when you hum you sound like a cat with tonsillitis—or worse, a vocal cord problem." At first, Rico had blushed, embarrassed and ashamed. Then Triela winked. "Just kidding. But seriously, Angelica's about to break up laughing."

Rico remembered glancing over and seeing Angelica shaking with suppressed mirth. Then suddenly, Angelica had erupted into a fit of giggles, rocking slightly in her chair while she wiped away the tears streaming down her face.

Maybe I should go see Ange in the hospital today, Rico thought presently. Then she froze. The rag stopped its steady trek up the barrel of her gun.

No, that was impossible now. Angelica was dead. She had died the night of the meteor shower, happy because Marco was with her.

Rico pondered the word--dead. She had seen plenty of dead people. But never really anyone she had known personally…except Emilio, but that was beside the point. Gone was a better word for Angelica's situation.

Angelica was gone and would not be back. Rico's stomach tightened slightly at the thought, and she frowned. A knock at her door startled her, and she stood. "Come in, please," she said, and the door opened. Jean stood in the doorway. Rico was mildly surprised. Jean never came to her room…not even if they had a new mission. Usually he informed her during practice to meet him at a certain spot the next morning, or later that day, and that would be that.

Her surprise must have shown in the widening of her eyes and the slight parting of her lips, because Jean's own eyes narrowed. "What?" he demanded, and Rico jumped.

"N…nothing. Sir."

Jean's ever-present frown deepened. "Have you seen Henrietta or Jose?"

"No sir. I have not seen them today. But Henrietta said that Jose-san was taking her shopping for a summer dress."

Jean cursed, hissing quietly under his breath. But Rico's advanced hearing picked up on it easily, and she bit her lip to resist blushing again. A little louder, almost to himself, Jean muttered, "Dammit. He spoils that brat."

The door shut, leaving Rico alone.

Alone. She turned the word over in her head. It had the same connotation as the word gone. Rico was alone. Angelica was gone. Alone. Gone. Where they the same? She didn't know.

Rico set her accurate rifle aside and walked to Claes's room. The black haired girl was perched on the windowsill, reading. Rico liked reading too, but she didn't have as much time on her hands as Claes. Rico rarely read for pleasure. She was too busy.

Claes looked up as Rico entered without knocking, her expression perturbed behind her glasses. "What do you want, Rico?" Claes asked, shortly, annoyed at being interrupted.

Rico hesitated. "I…" Claes shut her book and shifted to look at Rico directly. Rico looked nervous and unsure, a strange emotion for her normally passionless countenance. "I was wondering…if I could borrow your music player."

To Rico's surprise, Claes nodded. "Okay, then. Just bring it back when you're done."

After murmuring her thanks to Claes,Rico made her way back to her room, shut the door and locked it. The room was empty, silent, dim. Henrietta had not come back from her outing yet.

Rico lifted Claes's headphones to her ears and turned the player on, scrolling through the lists of classical and modern artists until she came to a song she recognized.

BEETHOVEN'S SYMPHONY NO. 9 scrolled across the screen. Rico turned the volume up, up, up—until she could not hear the sound of her own breathing. She inhaled, then began to sing along with the words. She couldn't hear her own cat-with-tonsillitis voice, or the sound of her pounding heart, or the silence of the rest of the room. The alone-ness of it all.

Alone. Gone. The meanings of the two words blurred in her mind, until they merged and became the same. Rico. Angelica. Would they ultimately share the same fate?

The song ended. Rico took the headphones off and shook her head to clear the ringing from her hypersensitive ears. For a moment, she only stood and breathed. The world had momentarily tilted, but now it was settling itself back into its proper place. Rico almost laughed; it seemed silly to worry about dying, now. After all, Jean said she had a long time before the conditioning started to take its toll. Of course her death would be different than Angelica's.

She sat in her chair and began to clean her gun.