During his work Agent Ronald Sandoval has been badly injured. After he had recovered so far, he was released from the hospital to regain his full health at home. He was one week off duty, and decided to clean and tidy up his home. He could not stand it to sit alone and because of his CVI improved reading abilities he could not entertain himself with a book as he had done it when he was a small child.

He bend slowly down, because of his injured rib, to pick up an small something lying on the ground of his sleeping room. It was a piece of metal, that caught his eye by reflecting the sunlight from the window. He took a closer look and lowered himself slowly into an siting position on the edge of his bed. He was holding an old ring, the first one he has given Deedee, years - eternitys - ago. He remembered the box he had hidden under his bed for such a long time... Ignoring his arching side, the injured bones and the pain in his whole body, he got to his knees, and under lots of dust, in the one of the darkest corners, he found what he was looking for. Carefully and slowly he opened the box...

All the small personal things belonging to Deedee and himself were stored in it. He opened it, and above all others was a paper. Just a normal white paper, with letters in red and blue ink. Carefully and slowly he took it out. It was the printout of one of the first mails Deedee has send him. They have been so young, so innocent... and it has been nothing more than just a friendship at that time, and now it was so much less. Written was:
 

 
Sandoval used the back of his hand to wipe a tear from his cheek. One of many. No one was there for him now, he did not earn it. And nobody wanted him, the cold monster, the murderer to be there for him.
Deedee was dead, he did not have any other family and he definitely had not any friends. He was admired at his working place - but feared he had lost all his friend when he got his CVI and the damn MI. He had lost Deedee in that time, and two times more. When he had given her to the institute and when he had thought that he had won her back, he lost her to the death for ever. His tears became more and more again, he sank on the cushions behind him, covered his face and cried, and cried and cried...

Somewhere else Deedee was looking at an old picture, a very young asian boy, smiling and with a rose in his hand could be seen on it.

Somewhere else a young boy, but grown up in his body, was longing for an family, for his father, without knowing it himself.