Disclaimer: I don't own Code Lyoko. I don't own Odd, Ulrich, Aelita, Jeremie, or Yumi. I do own, or claim credit, to creating Halley, Max, Melissa, and Aubrie though.

Pairings: UxY past, JxA present

Point of View: Aubrie's

Author's Note: This kinda struck me outta the blue. I know I should be working on my other fic, since it's almost done, but this was begging to get out. And you guys DID want a sequel to "I remember." Well, here you go. Don't blame me if it's crap, blame my muse. Please review anyway.

Author's Note Two: Sobo and Sofu are Japanese for "grandmother" and "grandfather" unless my translator's messed up, which could be the case.

Daddy's in the study again.

He thinks I'm sleeping, he thinks I'm still in bed. But I'm not, I'm wide awake. I can't sleep, he's loud, still so loud. Still so...troubled. It's the anniversary. He's always in pain on the anniversary, always pretends, I know it's for my sake. And then night falls and he's in his study with the door locked and the lights dim.

And I'm alone, but it's not your fault, it's never your fault.

"Watch me!" I scream. I'm eight, it was five years ago, four years after, and it's snowing. I'm at the top of the hill, my feet strapped securely to the board and daddy smiles up at me, tells me that he's watching. It's starting to snow again as I start down the hill.

It's the first time I didn't fall.

The floorboards creak inside and I hurry back to my room as the study door opens. Daddy blocks the hall light, looking in, watching me as I pretend to sleep. I crack an eye open when I hear the sigh. He's looking far away, he doesn't see me. He's older, that's what Uncle Odd says all the time.

"Your father's so old now."

I believe it, watching him with his friends when they think I'm not watching. He doesn't act like them. He doesn't look like them. He's greyer, paler, thinner. And he's alone, though I'm still here. Just as I'm alone, though he's right there.

But it's not your fault, never your fault.

"Ulrich, why don't you go out? Date? I know someone who'd love to go with you. Spend some time..."

I'm crouching beneath the stairs, behind the potted plants, listening as daddy and Uncle Odd sit in the living room. I'm supposed to be somewhere else, sleeping, playing upstairs, maybe outside? I can't remember now.

"Not yet Odd. Not ready," daddy says. He's wearing that look of pain again as he stares at his coffee cup.

"It's been five years Ulrich!" But he's still not ready. He doesn't think I'm ready. He doesn't want anything else.

Uncle Odd never got married. He's the only one without kids, without a constant girlfriend. He says he has no interest in marriage. Daddy says Odd was smart, marriage hurts and children ask to many questions. He didn't realize I was right behind him.

Daddy doesn't notice much anymore. He used to notice everything, now he doesn't. Life passes him by and he lets it. He just transferred, he's working from ten at night to five in the morning on week nights. But I'm not alone then, because Uncle Odd lives with us, he makes sure I'm safe.

Daddy's a doctor now. He works in an emergency room, treating sick patients, sometimes he's gone during the day. He told me that I'm big now, I don't need him as much. I think I need him more now.

But it's not your fault he thinks this, it's never your fault.

I've fallen and scraped my knee. I had been sliding down the banister, I saw it done in a cartoon and wanted to try it. They didn't get hurt, why did I? Daddy's at work again, it's just Uncle Odd and I. He hears me crying and comes over, examining my knee. It's bleeding heavily, part of the skin is like a flap. He jokes around, calling it a tent, making me laugh as he takes me to the hospital.

Daddy's there, Uncle Odd had called him already about the accident. His face is drawn, his hair sticking up. It's always like that when he's worried or nervous, he likes to run his hands through it.

"What happened?" he asks, entering the room and coming over to me. He's not addressing me though, he's talking to Uncle Odd. I'm a ghost that passes intermittently through his vision.

"It was an accident Ulrich. She was sliding down the banister and fell."

"You let her slide?"

"I wasn't there."

"You left her alone?" Daddy's glaring now and I feel small, biting my lip to keep from crying. I want daddy to think I'm brave, that I wouldn't cry over a little cut.

"No more than you do," Uncle Odd shoots back. He looks furious and I feel the static brewing in the room, like how it feels when a storm's brewing and you stand outside in shorts and a tank, letting the wind blow through your hair. Uncle Odd told me that you used to do that all the time, and once I was born you'd bring me outside with you. Is that where I got my love of storms from?

I had needed thirteen stitches. Thirteen. That's how old I am now. I'm a teenager. Uncle Jeremie told me this was how old they were when they met. When you met. Was thirteen a fun year?

Uncle Odd had moved out after the accident. Three years ago. He got his own apartment in Paris, a thirty minute drive from here. He said he needed space, but he still came every weekend to spend time with me. He didn't stay with us though, instead he stayed with Uncle Jeremie and Aunt Aelita and their kids. They have three: Halley, Max, and Melissa. Halley's in my class, Max and Melissa are younger than us.

Aunt Aelita said that you used to take Halley and I to the park to feed the ducks. Do you remember Halley? She's changed a lot, so have I. She has strawberry blonde hair, or she used to. She died it red the other day and dresses all in black. Can you imagine it? With parents like Aunt Aelita and Uncle Jeremie? Uncle Jeremie almost had a fit. Aunt Aelita says she acts like you, maybe Halley and I were switched at birth. You never met Max and Melissa. They were born a year after you left us. Fraternal twins.

Uncle Hiroki showed me pictures of the two of you when you were younger. He doesn't visit often, he lives in Japan now with Sobo and Sofu, daddy took me to visit once when they first moved when I was seven. Now he just sends me over. I don't look like you anymore. I have dark brown hair like daddy's. It turned when I was six. My eyes are a dark blue, not black. Grandmother and Grandfather say that it's my German blood coming through.

But it's not your fault I don't look like you, it's never your fault.

It's raining - pouring. It came suddenly when Halley and I were skating in the driveway. Uncle Odd was still living with us then, he yelled at us to get inside. We didn't bother taking off our skates, just skated inside. I couldn't stop on the wood floor. I crashed into the vase that daddy had gotten you for Christmas one year.

It hit the ground and shattered.

I cried, couldn't stop. Uncle Odd told me not to worry. It was an accident. Daddy would forgive me, he would understand. But I couldn't stop crying because I had broken part of you. Part of what we had left of you. Part of what daddy had left of you.

Daddy didn't say anything that night. He went into the study and closed the door after tousling my hair. It was the anniversary.

Uncle Odd moved back a year later, when I got hit by the car. Did you know about that? Did daddy tell you? He used to tell me that he talked to you regularly, that you spoke back. I used to believe him, then I grew up. I was in the hospital for two weeks, most of which I was unconscious. Daddy stayed by me, watching me, holding my hand. Once I woke up when he was flipping through a chart. He gave me a half smile and told me to go back to sleep.

Next time I woke, Uncle Odd was there. He smiled at me and told me daddy had gone to the cafeteria for some food. He never came to visit again. When I was released Uncle Odd took care of me while daddy worked.

He told me stories about what you did when you were younger. How you and daddy refused to talk about your feelings for each other until finally it all came spilling out when he was jealous over someone else. Who was it? William?

Daddy doesn't talk about you. He says that it's best to leave the past behind. It was nice to listen to someone talk about you. Uncle Odd even told me when the picture of you that I keep in my locket was taken. Daddy never told me.

But it's not your fault he's forgetful, it's never your fault.

I was six when Uncle Odd first moved in with us. Two years after you left. Daddy was a wreck, he didn't know what to do. Sobo and Sofu, who I would stay with while daddy went to work or school, had just moved to Japan. Uncle Odd was the one who suggested moving in. Daddy latched onto that.

There were rules I guess. I never saw, have never seen, Uncle Odd bring home a girl unless it was for a dinner. Otherwise, I never knew he even dated. I guess daddy set it up that way. Or maybe it was Uncle Odd. He always looks after me.

He stays in the room down the hall, on the other side of the study. Even after he left the room stayed as "Odd's room" not "the guest room." I asked daddy about it, he didn't answer me, just told me to go and play somewhere, with something, away from him.

UncleOdd grins, wrapping an arm around me. "Hey kid-o," he says, smiling at me. I smile back leaning against him as we walk down the hall toward the kitchen. "You okay?"

"I'm alright," I reply.

He gives me a look. "Moving's a pretty big thing for a kid." I glare at him and he laughs. "Alright, so you aren't technically a kid anymore, but still."

"I'll adjust," I explain slowly. It's a lie, a pitiful one, but he seems to understand. I'll miss Halley, Max, Melissa, Aunt Aelita, Uncle Jeremie and the rest of my friends.

"Your dad's lucky to have a kid like you," he tells me. He ruffles my hair and I feel my stomach tighten because if I'm so lucky to have, then why am I invisible?

"Right," I tell him. He gives me a sad smile, pulling away and heading upstairs to pack his things for the move. I set to work packing the kitchen dishes. Uncle Odd is moving with us. I don't understand why. I guess to keep an eye on me, but I have to wonder about his work. Then again, he's a writer. Can you imagine that? Uncle Jeremie once told me that they never thought Uncle Odd would amount to anything and now he's a best-selling author. He proved them all wrong.

Did you think that he would do that? I don't think daddy did. At least that's what Uncle Jeremie said. But he's good. He writes mysteries and children's books. What a combination, right?

But don't worry, it's not your fault for doubting him, it's never your fault.

"Ulrich, why do you do this? Do you see the way that little girl looks up to you? Do you see how she idolizes you? You never give her the time of day!" Uncle Odd is arguing with daddy downstairs. I've snuck down to watch, to listen. I was nine.

"I can't look at her Odd. I thought I could at first...I thought, I thought...She looks to much like Yumi. Acts to much like her. I can't Odd."

"Don't you dare say that Ulrich. You have a beautiful, wonderful little girl who loves you more than the world. You helped create her. You take care of her!" Uncle Odd hissed. He hit the table with a fist and I jerked back.

"You don't understand what it is to love someone and lose them and have a constant reminder of her lurking around every corner!" daddy exclaims standing and walking over so he can brace himself against the fireplace.

"Yes I do."

Daddy looks at Uncle Odd and gives a small nod. "I'm sorry." Uncle Odd shrugs and stands as well. "Thank you for all of your help Odd. I don't know how I would've managed."

"You wouldn't have," Uncle Odd replies. He embraces daddy. "I'm sorry for your loss, but look at what your missing out on..."

"I just can't face her."

The movers are in the front of the house, packing boxes and furniture into the truck to take them away. We'll be catching the plane tomorrow morning. I was supposed to stay at Uncle Jeremie's and Aunt Aelita's tonight, one more night with Halley, but Halley caught the flu and I can't see her.

"Don't worry, Halley can visit in the summer," Uncle Odd tells me. I nod as he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"Where's daddy?" I ask. I glance up in time to see Uncle Odd make a face.

"He's at work. He'll be home later tonight," he tells me. "I have an idea!" he exclaims, looking excited. I don't think he ever grew up. "After these guys get the stuff packed up and ready to ship off, lets go out and get some pizza and ice cream cones. We'll have a camp-out in the back patio!"

I smile back. "Sure."

Daddy comes home when it's dark and Uncle Odd has just finished naming the stars. He's bumping into things inside the house, even though hardly anything's left in there. Uncle Odd shoots me a look, the one that tells me to stay put, and gets up, going into the house. I sit up, listening to their voices. Daddy's is louder than Uncle Odd's.

"What the hell Ulrich? What's the matter with you?"

"What you talkin' 'bout Odd..."

"Your drunk!"

"Maybe.."

"Ulrich. Ulrich!" I hear something crash and jump up, going for the screen door. "Stay out!" Uncle Odd exclaims, spotting me.

Don't worry, it's not your fault daddy drinks, it's never your fault.

Daddy comes home late one night. Uncle Odd's asleep in his room and I'm in mine when I hear the floor board at the top of the stairs creak. I sit up in bed as daddy comes into my room, turning on the light.

"What's wrong?" I ask. He doesn't look well. His eyes are red and his skin is pale and sweaty. Can doctors get sick? I didn't realize that this was a different kind of sickness. One that can get a hold of anyone, anytime, anywhere.

"What did you do?" he demands. He holds up the pieces of the vase that Uncle Odd had thrown out, had told me daddy would understand about.

"I'm sorry," I cry.

"You...You..." He raises his hand and I scream. He stops, staring at me and I hear Uncle Odd's door open. "Honey? Honey? I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He keeps repeating it over and over again. I sit, watching him. It was the first time I had seen daddy cry since the funeral. I knew he cried, but always behind closed doors.

Uncle Odd stepped into the room. "What's going on?" he asked, eyes darting from daddy to me. Daddy turns and stumbles past Uncle Odd, toward his room. I'm trembling as Uncle Odd tucks me back in. "I'll look after him kid-o. Get some sleep." But I can't. I can't sleep anymore.

"Hurry up, hurry up," daddy says. I finish eating the doughnut Uncle Odd had bought us and throw the paper napkin I'd used as a plate into the trash. "Are we ready?" daddy asks.

"Yeah," I reply. He gives me a tight hug. It's the first contact we've had in days, weeks, months? I can't remember anymore.

"Odd!" he calls.

"Coming darling. You know I always like to look my best," Uncle Odd exclaims, coming down the stairs. He'd done one last quick search of the house, made sure we weren't forgetting anything. The box with your things in it is by the front door.

"Hurry, we don't want to be late," daddy says. He ushers us out the door and then closes it behind us, locking it.

"Wait! The box!"

"Leave it," daddy tells me. Uncle Odd looks surprised, but he's smiling as he pulls me to the car. I didn't understand, I do now.

We left your things there because it's your fault, it's always your fault.

"Honey, I have to tell you something."

I sit up in my bed, looking at daddy, wondering why he's waking me in the middle of the night. I'm only four, I barely remember this. "Daddy?" I ask. My voice is small, questioning, sleepy.

"Honey...something... There's been an accident," daddy says. His voice breaks and I see his shoulders shake. He sits down on the edge of my bed and I crawl over, curling in his lap.

"It's okay daddy," I tell him. In my mind it will be. Maybe he had a bad dream, but I'm here so he's okay.

He takes me in his arms, burying his face in my hair. "Honey...mommy...mommy's not coming home."

"Why?" I ask. I don't understand. I still don't.

"Mommy's in heaven now," he tells the four-year-old me. "She went to heaven thirty minutes ago."

"Why?"

"I don't know honey. I don't know. There was an accident."

"What kind of ac-e-dent?"

He smiles at my mispronunciation. He never told me how you had died. I found out later, through eavesdropping, that you had been killed by someone in a hold-up. You had refused to give him your purse when he had held up the store. That was the first night daddy got drunk.

Don't worry, it's your fault, and we acknowledge it.

And I still hate you.