This is up rather late D: Sorry about that. I just had an "aha!" moment where I realized I should just update as frequently as I can, even if the chapters are kind of short; it beats the hell out of waiting for a long time I suppose. Meh. The chapter title was taken from the song, "Labyrinth" by Oomph! (German band). Remove the spaces.

htt p:/www. you tube. com /watch?v= y3lndvRhS _M

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its character are not and never shall be mine, 'nuff said.

Chapter 2: El Laberinto

She could not recall the last time she had felt so incredibly warm. The sun never seemed to shine anymore. After the death of her mother, nothing really seemed to shine. Quite frankly, everything just lost its appeal.

Many things died within Lovina the day that she saw her beautiful mother as a corpse, all dolled up in a wooden casket embellished with gold trim, and a giant bouquet of flowers rich in red, orange, cream, and coral pink. Never in her short time of living had she ever felt so cold such as on that day. She remembered how incredibly bright it was that one Sunday, but despite the sunny weather, the temperature was quite frigid…

That bone chilling cold had flooded the valley and gradually, the day got darker and darker, and the sun just seemed to disappear, and with it, so did the gentle cheer of the people. The Mediterranean summers deteriorated into a lonely season where only fragile winds blew, and the vegetation that once covered the land vanished. Thinking back on it, Lovina thought that maybe she wasn't the only one that missed her mother. It seemed like Mother Nature herself was in mourning too. The grove hidden deep within the woods where she and her mother used to tend the tomato plants; it all withered up within months The once tomato-speckled gardens turned into shriveled remnants of what Lovina once considered to be her own personal Eden, a holy place where it was always warm and the sound of her mother's laughter could be heard.

A strange sensation stirred her, and that warm feeling pervaded her senses, and sent shivers up and down her spine. This was too weird. It felt as if…as if she were in a deep sleep; everything seemed so out of reach, and disconnected.

Except that didn't make any sense.

At the same time, all her senses felt so hyper aware of the change of in temperature, and the soft swish of her dress, the subtle smell of a vineyard, and the feather-light movement of the lace across her eyes, tickling her brow. She felt as if she were bobbing up and down gently, like a piece of driftwood out at sea, at the mercy of the vast expanse of ocean around her.

Except this ocean felt much bigger, and everything was so damn dark!

Lovina's eyelids were sealed shut, and she struggled to open her eyes but to no avail. She tried to move but found that she was practically petrified as she tried to wiggle a finger or two. A cold sensation flooded her gut and she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in alarm, and her heart beating wildly in her ears like some impending war drum coming closer and closer. Was she even breathing? Fear occupied all train of thought and when the feeling of ice water splashed against her skin, she tried to scream but her lips couldn't move. Drops of water splashed around her, dotting her skin and clothing, and her body absorbed the liquid ice much to her horror. It was as if the water god himself had plunged her into the depths of some snowy ocean.

As the water sloshed around her and entered her nostrils, a hand shot out and grabbed her around the waist, hauling her from beneath the surface of the churning ocean beneath her. The hand warmed her up, and she felt a surge of warmth bloom within in her, crackling and with a start, she gasped, and opened her eyes. She blinked the water from her eyes, and shivered as she felt the moisture evaporate from her skin. Everything was pitch black, except for a soft glow of light next to her.

For a moment, Lovina was terrified, because what the hell was going on? Slowly, the form approached her and the warmth wrapped around her middle connected itself with the ball of light, and it morphed into something more…like something …

Dio, like hell could she explain what it was.

With a tilt of her head, Lovina looked up as the light formed itself into what looked like the outline of a…a…holy hell, was it turning into a person?

Oh my…since when did light turn into people?

Just as the figure seemed to manifest itself, a rush of air whipped past Lovina, and with a start she realized they were the ones moving, weaving side to side as they ascended higher and higher, towards someplace way up high. Lovina clutched whatever that thing was even tighter, and buried her face in its soft glow. The warmth radiating off of the figure was soothing, and brought to mind the hot summer days by the coast when the sun beat down on her tanned skin.

She squeezed her eyes and let the sensation wash over her. From beneath her eyelids, Lovina could see red, and when she blinked her eyes open, she saw they were approaching what looked like the light at the end of a tunnel…or the top of some really deep hole.

A sudden burst in speed ripped Lovina from her thoughts, and she squeaked when her skirts flew up, slapping her in the face. She almost released one hand in order to smooth the rebellious clothing. A heavy blush stained her face, and once again, she tucked her face into the crook of the figure's sun kissed neck.

Neck?

Lovina could have sworn she had whiplash from how fast she looked up. She tried to peer at the now very much real person she was clinging to.

As soon as she looked up though, they burst through the end of the tunnel and the sudden flash of light blinded her as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Then they stopped moving, and the abrupt lack of movement caused Lovina to feel nauseated, trembling against the body that held her so close.

Pain exploded from within her abdomen, and she cried out, seizing hold of the cross around her neck. Something hot wet her fingers, and she felt the moisture dribble its way down her neck, and down the curves of her chest. Her head was pounding, each throb of pain greater than the last as it continued to beat against her skull. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she cracked one eye open long enough to see the hazy outline of a person hovering above her. She heard some words floating around here and there, but the person was speaking too fast for her, and she could have sworn the person was speaking in a blur of different tongues, but the words she caught most were the words, "Querida" and "¡No te duermas!" One would think that ever since she moved to Spain, she would recognize the language better.

For a moment, she almost caught a glimpse of her savior, but the ringing pain only became greater, and she let out a low cry of discomfort. She felt like she was dying, and that distant feeling began to return.

'No, no, no, no, no, no!' her mind screamed.

She barely registered the callused hands running through her hair, and cupping her cheeks.

Lovina thrashed about wildly, and her sudden blindness only worsened her hysteric state of mind.

Without warning, the pain was replaced with an intense heat, effectively overpowering the ringing. She could feel the tender touch of someone's hands on her face, and the feeling of someone's breath on her face, and a low, hushed voice whispering words into her ears. A fierce calm took over her body, and suddenly, she just felt so exhausted that she allowed herself to drown in that lazy warmth. The feeling stirred within her, and just like before, she felt that spark in her chest, blossoming and withering as quickly as it had come. Except the feeling never left her, and although it was very dull, its rhythm was still there, beating in sync with her heart.

She felt her lips move, but no sound came out. With a slight pang in her heart, Lovina recognized the damp, sweet smell of the dirt from the grove, and the weeping willow at the border of the woods. That odd smell that tickled her nose whenever her mother would hug her, face buried in her bosom as she was rocked back and forth.

Without much thought, Lovina struggled to raise one gloved hand, reaching out and lightly grazing the side of her savior's face. The sudden movement must have startled them she mused, since she felt them stiffen under her touch. Her lips quirked a little before she succumbed to that delicate warmth, asleep in the arms of some weirdo that smelled like her mother, and also happened to be her savior.

'What a weirdo.'

The moment he heard her wail, he felt his blood run cold.

Which now that he though about it, was a wee bit impossible, but that wasn't the point.

The clumsy deity looked down at the young woman in his arms, alarmed at the blood that was rushing from the cut on her neck. Quickly, the brunette kneeled down on the dusty ground, depositing his charge as gently as he could without further agitating her. Panic seized him as he tried to calm her down. His face bore a worried frown in place of the vacant smile that usually occupied his face these days.

For a moment, he almost wanted to rejoice at the feeling of being able to actually feel again, but another cry from girl quickly quelled all other thoughts. Unsure of what to do, the green-eyed man ran his hands over the girl's face, wiping a few of the tears rolling down her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. He uttered small phrases of comfort and reassurance to her, and thought of possible ways to soothe her pain. Within moments, the young man came to a solution. He closed his eyes, and focused on channeling the remainder of his energy into her. Since his power wasn't like it used to be, he had to concentrate more on the flow of energy, aiming it towards her core where his energy could merge with hers, and hopefully, reverse the effects of the wound. When she stopped moving about, he almost gave a cheer of relief, but he kept up his focus.

The brush of a hand against his cheek, however, startled him and he nearly gasped at the touch. He watched as the brunette with the odd curl crumpled beneath him, as limp as a ragdoll.

He heard a soft exhale of breath, and that gloved hand fell from his face, falling into the young woman's lap, disappearing among the white folds of her tattered dress.

Slowly, the warmth from his hands dissipated. His tense shoulders drooped with the sudden fatigue that overwhelmed his body, and he felt winded.

It certainly had been a while since the last time he had exerted himself.

A silent sigh escaped his lips and he looked up, surveying the eerie landscape around him. They were finally on the other side of that dark void that was wedged between both worlds. He hated that place. It was one of the few places where his presence could never reach; a cold place where the light never shone, and the sun didn't exist. Every time he traveled to the human world, he had to traverse that empty cavern. Even on days when he had enough strength, rarely did he ever make the trip over to the hidden grove where the ruins of his altar remained. Especially when there was a very good possibility of losing himself in that void. He just thanked his lucky stars that today he managed to escape.

He blinked his eyes, and focused his vision on the horizon. The sun sat on the edge of the horizon, casting long shadows over the plateau. The sky was bathed in bright oranges, and soft yellows that outlined the silhouettes of the mountains in the distance. Red rimmed the edges of the sun and gave the surrounding sky a bloody tint. A breeze tousled his curly hair, and he tore his eyes away from the gloomy sight before him.

He stared down at the young woman in his arms, a small smile settling on his face as he noted how small her dainty fists were, crossed over her chest in a protective manner. Something in her fist glimmered, and with a curious gaze, he realized it was some sort of necklace or pendant judging by the fact that the hidden object was connected to a silver chain wrapped around the girl's neck. The wet shine of blood smeared across her chest made him grimace, and with a heave, he stood up, taking care not to jostle the girl in his arms. He braced her against his chest in bridal style, and set off in the direction of the sun, towards the mountains where a dim light shone at its base. The brunette hummed softly to himself, and snuck another glance at the girl in his arms, tracing the opaque outline of her veiled face with only his eyes. He squinted his eyes slightly, and saw that beneath the veil was another piece of fabric wrapped around the girl's eyes, completely obscuring them from view. A strange urge to pull the veil off her head nagged him, but he quickly dismissed the thought with a slight shake of his head. He hurried his pace, and stumbled in the low light of the twilight, his mind focused on reaching the city before his strength left him.

After what seemed like hours of walking, the deity passed the cracked white pillars that marked the threshold of his domain. A tired smile swept across his face and he looked at the dull white of the city that used to shine like gold. A sharp sorrow tugged at his heart and his eyes dulled to a dark green as his gaze swept over the once majestic building that's lined the cobblestone streets. A gust blew through and lifted the dust from the ground into a fine cloud that lingered in the air before settling on the floor once again.

He saw some figures outside, walking to and fro, some carrying whicker baskets, while others held the hands of the children walking beside them. He recognized each face and it pained him to see their once tanned faces so pale and whitewashed like the buildings around them. The color had faded from their cheeks and the once vibrant reds and yellows of their clothing had faded to a muddied brown, or beige. The lively personalities that filled his city to the brim had been dimmed by the sudden shadow that had flooded their land, the very same shadow that had caused their city to fall from the heavens into this Limbo he loathed.

His eyes glazed over as he submerged himself in thought. He didn't notice the concerned gazes that followed him as he walked through the streets, nor did he catch the curious eyes that settled on the girl in his arms. No one dared to question or disturb him these days. The people's despair only worsened as they saw their leader, their sunshine, slowly slip away, alienating himself from the rest of the world. They watched him walk towards the heart of the ghost town, towards the castle that used to be his once beautiful home.

Once the brunette disappeared behind the rust-colored gates, he headed straight towards his chambers

A small stirring against his chest made him pause, and he looked down at the young woman with wide eyes.

Was she waking up?

"Mierda..."

If she woke up now, then the pain would come back! He only numbed the pain for her until he could get her to see his doctor after all!

He quickened his steps until he came upon the entrance of the Great Hall. He looked around until he spotted the man he was looking for. His guard captain was speaking to his little sister, Lily.

"Vash! Vash, come here!" he cried out.

Said blonde turned his way, and for a moment, his eyes looked at him with a sour gaze until it lingered on the person in his arms. When realization settled on his face, he ran over to him, alarmed at the condition of the young woman.

"Antonio! What in the world happened?" he asked.

With a quick shake of his head, Antonio started walking in the direction of his chambers, calling over his shoulder, "Retrieve Elizabeta immediately. Tell her to come to my quarters; it's an emergency."

He vaguely saw the blonde nod his head, uttering a quick "yes sir," before turning around and barking orders at some poor guard to fetch the Hungarian doctor.

Eventually, the brunette entered through the doors of his chambers, and padded over to his large bed, depositing his burden gently on the red silk covers. His muscles ached and protested as he tried to stretch his stiff shoulders. As light as the girl was, his arms still hurt from carrying her such a long distance. He shed his red coat on the floor and turned back to his bed, peering down at the girl. Her hands were still clasped around that necklace, and the blood that had once run down her chest, had dried and caked itself upon her sun-kissed skin. Her hair was splayed across the covers, framing her face with some stray strands of wavy hair here and there. He trotted over to the bedside, and took a seat beside her, quietly examining her. Amusedly, he noted that the color of her hair wasn't quite brown, nor was it red, but an odd mix of the two that accentuated her palette all the more. Another twitch of movement, and his ears caught a low mumble of words that he couldn't quite catch.

Was that Italian?

The loud clatter of the door being slammed open startled the deity, and he nearly tumbled off the bed. He nearly forgot how strong Elizabeta could be…Now that he thought about it, she probably did too.

"Antonio!"

After gathering himself together, the green-eyed man looked over at the Hungarian.

Elizabeta hurried over to his side, her eyes filled with a concern that he saw much too often recently. Her robes fluttered behind her, and in one hand he saw her carrying a medic box, probably containing all her tools and first-aid supplies. He returned her worried gaze with a slight frown, and glanced back at the woman on his bed.

Before he could speak however, he was violently shoved out of the way, and fell over the side of the bed onto the floor with an ungraceful "oof!"

The medic examined the bloodied young woman, muttering to herself in her native tongue. She set her box on the bed and opened its lid, pulling out bandages, needles, and bottles of medicine. While Antonio tried to miserably get himself off of the cold floor, Elizabeta spoke, "What the hell happened out there Antonio?"

He looked over to the Hungarian but she did not meet his gaze. She was concentrated on her current patient, only sparing a quick glance at Antonio out of the corner of her eye before resuming her work. She traced a finger over the wound on the girl's neck, her brow scrunching fiercely as a frown marred her pretty face. The expression caught him off-guard and for second there he nearly forgot how much of a softy Elizabeta could be. She could single-handedly beat Gilbert into a bloody pulp with her trusty frying pan, and still be as fierce as an overprotective mama bear. Even for a stranger.

Hauling himself to his feet, Antonio answered the Hungarian woman with a nonchalant shrug.

"Nothing. I went out for a walk, and found her by the road." He stared at the creases and folds in his bed sheets, making sure to avoid her gaze.

The woman only gave an exasperated sigh, "Next time you want to bullshit me, come up with something better that doesn't reek of lying," she rolled her eyes, and quickly pulled off the girl's white boots, their high heels speckled with dried mud.

He whipped his head over, looking over at her startled. He should really stop lying so much. Francis always said he was the world's most terrible liar.

Suddenly, Elizabeta untied the dress from the girl's body, and pulled it off gently. A slight flush colored his cheeks as his eyes caught a glimpse of the girl's undergarments.

It was at this moment, a dainty stocking was thrown at his face, and all he could see was white. He grasped the piece of cloth and gave a quick "Hey!"

The Hungarian was now smiling smugly in his direction, with her finger pointed towards the door. The message was quite clear.

"Get out."

A childish pout crossed his features, and he gave a soft whine, "But Elizabeta, this is my quarters! Why should I get out?"

A crossed look settled on Elizabeta's face.

"Yeah well my patient is in here, and I'd sooner call Gilbert awesome than let one of my patients be ogled by some pervert. Sun god or not, get out!"

He narrowly dodged the frying pan (where the hell did that come from?) that came whizzing past his head.

He scurried out of the bedroom and turned around the corner, disappearing down the corridor in search of his friends.

Surely they wouldn't abuse him with frying pans.

Once she was sure he was gone, Elizabeta heaved a sigh, and resumed her work. She fetched some lukewarm water from Antonio's bathtub and used it to wash down the girl's body, gently scrubbing the stained patched of skin where the blood had dried. She hummed a hymn to herself, and pulled the veil off the girl's face. The Hungarian paused and stared wistfully at the unconscious brunette.

"Poor dear…" she swiped the cloth across her bloodied temple, and over neck, "What sort of bastard does this…" she murmured.

The bride bristled in pain as Elizabeta cleaned the gash across her throat.

With a sigh, the medic brought her hand over the wound, closed her eyes and focused on channeling her energy through the wound, and into her body.

A soft yellow glow engulfed her hand, and through the stain glass that filtered the room in an assortment of color, its light oscillated back and forth, until the gash faded into a crimson line that scarred the Italian's neck.

The Hungarian slumped a little.

Damn it! She knew her strength wasn't nearly up to par with how it used to be, but this was ridiculous!

She glanced down at her hands, alarmed by how transparent they were. If she was not careful, she might exert too much of her energy, something she could not afford.

Determined, Elizabeta continued her work dutifully, and poured all her strength into healing the woman her master had brought home.

Lovina felt that floating sensation return again.

She felt a cool breeze whirl past her, and the shuffling of leaves being strewn across the ground calmed her.

She rubbed her eyes open and blearily, she looked around, only to find herself in the middle of the hidden grove where she and her mother used to go. The Italian was shocked to see the grove in full bloom; tomato plants overburdened with their plump, red treasures and large trees with gnarled trunks filled to the brim with little olives. Lovina blinked in disbelief, expecting the scene to disappear and morph into one she was more familiar with. But the tomatoes remained, and as she looked around, she noticed all the fallen Roman pillars were standing erect, proudly towering over the white altar in the heart of the grove. She felt so confused…

One minute she felt like she was drowning in some frigid ocean, and the next minute, she was in the grove!

Slowly, she walked through the rows of plants, gazing at everything with wonder and confusion. That sweet earthy smell filled her nostrils, and the sound of laughter reached her ears. That melodious voice that filled her dreams and nightmares rang across the grove, and for a moment, Lovina's heart clenched with fear and hope.

Mother!

Any rational thoughts were swiftly crammed into the back of her mind as she raced towards the heart of the garden. Her mother was here! She had to be! The lace over her eyes blurred her vision, and she stumbled over roots, and stones, dirtying her gloves with the lush dirt when she fell on her hands.

Another chime of laughter spurred her on deeper and deeper into the grove.

Finally, she entered the center where her mother sat on the steps of the pearly white altar. Her chestnut tresses were tied up and sat behind a white crown, and she wore a maroon colored peplos robe, with a golden sash tied beneath her bust. A smile adorned her face, and Lovina couldn't help but wonder since when did her mother ever look so damn healthy and happy.

Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she heard a voice call out tenderly, "Come here cariño."

She almost sped up at her beckoning, but a loud giggle from behind her startled her, and she froze on the spot. The clumsy patter of feet stomping on leaves echoed behind her, and with a slight turn, Lovina saw a young boy running towards her. The child wore a red tunic, embellished with gold pins and buttons, and his brown leather sandals had straps that snaked around his ankles.

The boy laughed, and his eyes reminded her of grapes, the green kind, twinkling with mirth and laughter, as he raced towards her.

Her voice caught in her throat, and just when it seemed like the child would run right into her, she shouted, "H-halt dammit!"

But the boy continued running towards her, and with a sudden chill, he ran right fucking through her. The sensation sent her nerves into a frenzy, and she felt an odd mix of hot and cold race up and down her body.

Shock quickly commandeered control of her body, and she turned her head slowly back towards her mother, only to see the boy jump into her open arms with a squeal of delight.

What the hell was going on?

"Cariño, what did I say about wandering off on your own?" the woman hummed into the child's curly brown locks. The boy merely looked down a bit ashamed, scuffing his feet against the dirt, before he looked up at her mother.

"Pomona~! Lo siento! I was just so hungry…"

Pomona…

Lovina felt a deep sorrowful anger bubble in her chest.

'How dare that little brat call my mother by her name?'

He nuzzled his face in her mother's robes and she simply gave a light chuckle, running a hand through the child's hair before she started attacking the boy's sides with deft fingers, sending him into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

The heartwarming scene only made Lovina feel empty and cold inside. She tried calling out but her voice failed her, and she felt the earth pull out from beneath her until she sat lying still in dirt. She closed her eyes and shuddered as she exhaled.

What just happened? Where the fuck was she? Why was her mother here? Who was that little bastard clinging onto her mother? Questions like these filled her head, and she felt her temple throb with weight of her thoughts. With a sigh, she opened her eyes, only to find herself on the edge of the grove, sitting beneath the weeping willow, the edge of her boots peeking out beneath the shade and shining beneath the Spanish sun.

She peered over the lace film covering her eyes, and saw her mother and the boy crouching by one another in the distance with a basket full of tomatoes between them. Lovina faintly registered something wet trailing down her cheeks but she ignored them as she watched the two laugh with one another.

Suddenly, the boy stopped laughing, and looked over in her direction as if he had just noted her presence. By this point however, Lovina had already figured out that she was invisible to both, so she settled with glaring at the child with all of her pent up fury, and the hurt that had settled around her heart. Slowly but surely, the viridian-eyed boy raised his hand and waved at her.

Lovina was taken back by the odd gesture, and a flush burned her cheeks.

She stared right back at him and tentatively, raised her hand, giving a slight wave back.

He smiled back in return, closing his eyes in delight, and the warmth in her cheeks returned setting her face ablaze with a fierce blush.

From beneath the willow tree, Lovina could have sworn she heard the little bastard giggle, "You look just like a tomato!"

A couple of hours had passed before Elizabeta let Antonio see the young woman.

He spent his whole time in the kitchen, sitting on one of the counters while conversing with Francis, one of his best friends. In addition to being one of his generals, the Frenchman was a also a superb cook who enjoyed fine wine and dining, and was infamous for his coquetry, justifying his flirtatious behavior with what he called "L'amour."

He had known Francis for as long as he could remember, and that was a very long time. Antonio has been around since the death of his predecessor; a fiery young man that hailed from the Iberian Peninsula, (just like him) who had been killed by the Moon god. Antonio would have laughed if it weren't so damn ironic.

Lost in his thoughts, Antonio steered himself through the large corridors, not even sparing a glance at the ancient tapestries of scarlet that adorned the walls. Francis always said he was rather absentminded, but he could probably blame the alcohol in his system.

While Francis milled about in the kitchen, barking orders at his assistants and flirting with the maids, Antonio nursed himself with a few glasses of red wine and a couple of tomatoes. Granted, he didn't have enough to actually get drunk, he still had quite a buzz that blurred his vision but sharpened the rest of his senses.

He talked about nonsensical things with the Frenchman, anything to get his mind off the girl. His mind kept nagging him with an incessant worry that made him uneasy. At least the alcohol took the edge off of his thoughts.

After bidding the kitchen staff goodbye, Antonio headed upstairs towards his private quarters, hoping to get some sleep.

He tottered past a weary looking Elizabeta, who seemed quite out of it herself. In her arms, she carried a bundle of white fabric. Her face looked tired, and she seemed much paler than when he had left the room. No doubt she overexerted herself. Antonio frowned at the thought, and exchanged a few words with her before he entered his chambers, closing the door behind him.

With heavy footsteps, the Spaniard walked over to his bed, stripping himself of his clothing, and pulling on a pair of navy blue pants. He didn't even notice the body tucked in beneath the sheets as he flopped beneath the covers. Sleep was quickly overtaking his consciousness, and he tossed and turned, getting comfortable. His arm brushed up against something soft and warm, and he let his hand explore its surface. Whatever it was felt nice beneath his fingers, and he scooted closer to it.

He didn't know pillows felt this good.

The faint smell of tomatoes, and something like honeysuckle, filled his sensitive nose, and he breathed in the scent with a content sigh. The body of warmth beside him stirred and he grunted in annoyance. He tightened his grip around the object, mumbling incoherent words in his native tongue. The writhing stopped, and he vaguely registered hearing someone gasp.

Since when did pillows move?

Wait.

Pillows don't move of their own accord.

"Fucking Pervert!" a shrill voice wailed.

His eyes opened just in time to see a blur of reddish-brown head butt him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and making him see little Gilbirds flying in his vision.

He didn't even have any time to recover from the breathtaking blow before he felt a foot connect with the side of his face, sending him sprawling across the floor like a sack of potatoes.

The Spaniard let out a pained groan as he shakily lifted his head, trying to get a look at his assailant.

All Antonio could see with his drunken vision was the feminine outline of a young woman on his bed, furious olive eyes and a little red fa…

'Dios mio…'

That had to be the cutest little face in the world!

"Que lindo…¡como un tomate!"he murmured.

Antonio just gave a goofy grin as his gaze settle on the woman's pouting face.

"You look just like a tomato!"

His only response was an indignant cry and swift kick to side of his head.

Yay! I finally got this chapter over with, although it is a little confusing probably. I dropped a lot of hints as to what's going on, and there is more to this story than Lovi ending up in some ghost town...but you'll see soon enough. Anyway, drop a review if you can dearies. Feedback helps me improve, and that's what I'm constantly trying to do. Let me know what you think, and please don't hesitate to point out any typos, or grammatical errors. It is rather hard to proofread my own stuff, especially since I know how it's supposed to sound like in my head. LOL

-Puuba