Thank you for EVERYONE who followed this series! It was painful but fun writing Arien and Reno, since Arien was... well... me. She's based off of me. So all her flaws are mine, and it made me refocus on myself. (No, I am not pretty, unfortunately).

I will continue writing about Reno, because he's a fun character to move. I'm doing a rehaul for C'est La Vie, so if you want the updated version please tell me, and I will send you the link as soon as it is completed. I will also be doing either A: a prequel to C'est La Vie, depicting Reno and Arien's childhood (they met ONCE... spoiler spoiler!) or B: a medical spin-off. Either way, it'll involve the redhead greatly.

Additionally, I'll be writing more "Hysteria" series, since it a lot of people seem to enjoy it.

Again, thank you, readers. I continued writing because of your constant nagging, encouragement and the reminder that someone was reading this piece of "crap". I hope you enjoyed it, maybe found something new...

Here are my last comments regarding the series:

I've had some interesting observations, but the most prevalent one was that "Reno and Arien don't seem to like each other". And that was my intention. They are polar opposites: Reno presented Chaos while Arien was the cosmos. But my point was that they trusted and needed each other more than anything else. And to me, marriage isn't all love and flowers... after all, you see the spouse everyday, see the person drool, get sick, come home drunk, e.t.c. It's more about trusting and needing each other, which, I think they do very much.

I've also created what is not supposed to be a Mary-Sue. I personally hate them, because you can't really see a character development. I hope the readers have observed Arien and Reno's change as people, from hardened and tearless killers to people with blood and tears. They still have much to learn, but I hope Reno and Arien learned something being together. They've made some decisions then dumber ones, but they're human (I hope), so that's to be expected.

Lastly: Thank you, readers, for your time, your support, and your energy.

Renaldo Miller looked around as he sat at the table. His partner – he still didn't recognize the woman as his wife – was seated facing him, writing something. A missive, perhaps, or an order. Even after marriage Arien had not left the office, and was now the chief of Intelligence, a job that allowed her to sit at home and just order underlings around. But then, none of the mako-generation Turks were Turks anymore. They had all left the post to a better one, with better pays and more sedate job descriptions. Except for him, of course. He was the head of the armed combat tactics, which meant that he got to see just as much action as when he was twenty.

A small girl was to his right, their daughter – Ariel Miller, age seven, with her father's brown hair and mischievous mouth and her mother's slanted eyes. The eyes were deep cerulean; Reno and Arien had failed again to produce a mako-free child. Tall and thin for her age, the child sat quietly, watching TV. His family. Arien had not aged at all. But then, mako-generation did not age, did they?

Arien. They had ran through their twenties, hand in hand, dodging bullets. They had hurt each other, cried for each other, betrayed each other... but in the end, they could not leave each other. Arien looked no older than when he first met her, in the old Shinra Tower. No lines marred her face; but her eyes had changed. She had learned many things; to love a man, to cry, to love a child. He rarely showed any signs of affection for her, and she demanded none. But she knew, as he knew, that for some reason they'd probably be together until "death did them apart".

"I'm gonna go," he told the woman who was now signing her name. "Gotta go pick up Vince."

Vincent Miller was now at the Junon Military Academy, a serious boy of age thirteen. Dark-haired and bright-eyed like his sister, he looked more serious and was a quiet student. He was not like his father who excelled partly because of his instincts, but he was a hard worker who strived to do his best in everything. Dressed in a navy military uniform with long legs and long arms, he seemed to like the isolation. While other students crowded bidding farewells and exchanging addresses, he stood alone at the front door with his two bodyguards, assigned to the task by the President to protect the heir.

Reno got out of the car – he still drove, not out of necessity but out of preference – and slammed the door shut. Walked up to the waiting child. The bodyguards tensed, then relaxed as they saw the father. "Hey kid," he said cheerfully as Vince picked up the duffel bag, "How was the term?"

"I'm the President of the class," Vince reported gloomily, clearly unhappy about the honor. Reno grinned. Vincent resembled his mother in many ways, but his habit of shirking responsibility came directly from his father.

"Sorry for ya. But Rufus would be happy." Reno watched as his son loaded the duffel bag into the trunk, then slam the trunk shut. "Nothing left? Okay, let's go."

As Reno turned the key in the ignition, Vince strapped on the seatbelt. The car backed out, then swerved, back onto the street. The child seemed unperturbed by the violent driving; he was used to it, just as he was used to his mother's cautious and slow driving. "How's Mother?"

"Doin' fine. She's gonna teach you marksmanship this summer."

"That would be nice. We start gun handling next term."

"Yeah, well, she's a pro." Which was exactly why Reno had banned firearms from the bedroom. In response, Arien had removed all knives and nightsticks that were hidden around the bedchamber. Reno knew that Arien would never seriously fight him without a weapon, since he could easily take her out anytime.

"Ariel?"

"She was running around this morning singing 'Vin is coming back'. She ran into the kitchen cabinet."

"Is she okay?"

"Yup. Your mum gave a good scolding, though, so she's a little low-key now." Reno lit a cigarette. Arien and Ariel would be waiting for them, lunch on the table, Ariel like a small doll, Arien sitting in her seat. His partner, his lover.

Vince watched as the scenery flew by, silent. As they passed by the sign that said "Welcome to The Edge", the boy opened his mouth. "Father?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you tell me what it meant for you to be a Turk?"

Reno did not look at him, but continued to drive; Vince continued to look straight ahead as the buildings flew by. But from the front mirror, he saw his father's lips curve into a grin. "Maybe," said the mouth, but the teenager saw the eyes say otherwise. "Later," the eyes said. "Much later."