Our Daughter
Joseph Reyes

Youíd be proud of our daughter for what she did today, Kevin. She made me worry like Iíve never worried for her before. I worried so hard I thought my head would burst with it, that my soul would overflow with it. Allen felt it too; I could see it in his eyes. But Allen doesnít know, doesnít know what itís like to see his child run straight into danger thinking she knows everything she needs to stop itÖHe doesnít know how I conjure up every possible scenario in my head to the point that I canít think of anything else. He just doesnít know. Iím not sure even you would understand, Kevin, perhaps this is a feeling only mothers have. Still, even as I was sad, I could not help but feel great pride in her, come so far from the child we made together.

Inside the Proto Merkabah, I fought drone after drone of that manís creation, and some that created themselves by his pattern. It astounded me that one man could make such a huge factory, such a great place toÖgo insane. Joachim Mizrahi. Most people canít even say his name out loud anymore. We looked up to him, before the end, remember? I do, I remember everything. I remember the way youíd whisper in my ear with that soft, deep voice of yours, the way that you looked at her those long hours we worked into the night. I remember the days we shared, surrounded by our friends, her aunts and uncles, as she slowly grew up before our eyes.

I even remember the bad things now, the times when she fought us. Lightning still makes me cringe, time hasnít done anything to help that, not anymore than it has to help me forget you. The memories are all here, inside of me, inside of my heart and my mind, and I would not give them up for anything.

Maybe I donít feel different from you because Iím her mother. Maybe I feel different because that night, you were killed by her, and I killed her. Maybe I donít know how I feel anymore, not that it really matters. Nephilim helped me remember, though, and I cherish these memories I have with every waking breath. But I do feel differently from you, the love I have for her is mixed with pain, a deep pain that makes me worry. No mother should ever have to bury her child.

Sheís made a friend, Kevin, though I donít think she really notices it. A nice boy, if a little strange. He has white hair; Iíve never seen anyone with white hair who wasnít a Realian. Those big, turquoise eyes seem blank to me, were opaque to me, until I realized why I could not see past them. He is consumed by love, love for the human race, love for all creatures, even the ones he brought into our world. Not so terrible an existence, if you ask me, but he seems sad, so sad all the time. I see a flicker of happiness in those sea-green orbs when he looks at her, though; I suppose he thinks I donít catch it. I donít know what to think, but I guess itís really not my place to be thinking anything about it now, is it?

MOMO had her memories stripped from her mind, laid bare for that poor man, Albedo, to see. It was hard, so hard to see her, eyes devoid of any thought or care. She has sisters too, hundreds of them, but theyíve all passed on now, though they live on in her. I think that something of you lives on in our daughter, too, something that love preserves for us in our children.

So even if I can never feel your strong arms around me, even if I can never run my hands through your soft, blue hair, I can be happy now. Sheís saved us all, saved the world and countless others like it. I think youíd be proud of our daughter, Kevin.