Oh my God, I have to profusely apologize. Okay. I kinda screwed up with school and my parents grounded me, which is why I haven't updated in like three weeks. It was my fault (just letting you know that my parents aren't unusually cruel or extreme) but I hope I can make it up to you with this chapter. For the few of you who guessed what scene it would be, none of you were right. It's the scene from Frostbite where Janine and Rose are fighting in the gym. Here you go. I hope it was worth the wait and please review.  This is the last chapter btw.

I stepped into the gym of the Academy, relieved to be out of the cold, but feeling horribly out of place in the familiar school. Running a hand through my newly short hair, I swept my eyes over the place, closing my eyes, nostalgically remembering all my combat classes in there, sparring with the best of my grade and kicking some serious butt. Sighing, I opened my eyes, slightly shaking my head at myself. Those memories were of a different person, of a younger and irrational me. I slipped my arms out of my fur coat and left it along the gym wall as I walked towards the center, where I had marked circles for the exercise. Dimitri had requested me to train his pupil, as he was unavailable. I had accepted the task of a fight with my daughter, hoping that it would ease some of the undisguised hatred she had for me that so reminded me of my feelings towards my mother when I was her age.

I meandered away from the center, approaching the stage at the front of the gym. I slowly climbed the steps as I had so many years ago to graduate. Standing in the middle of the stage where the podium had been, I recalled the clapping crowd, Russell cheering loudly from the sidelines, and Dillon looking up at me from the front row with such love, such pride that I felt like I was going to pass out.

The door to the gym opened and a figure dashed in, not noticing me. I hastily wiped the moisture from my eyes and jumped down from the stage, following the trail of the girl… my daughter, whom I hadn't seen in five years. How could I have? She looked more like her father every day, and acted more like me. My last visit had sparked some resentment from her and I began to wonder if visiting her was good for her. Wouldn't it be easier if she could live her life without constantly missing me?

The door to the practice room was open and I quietly walked in. Rosemarie was standing in the middle of the room, her dark hair covering her shoulders. Her head was moving from side to side, obviously looking for the tutor that wasn't there. "He's not here," I said softly. She jumped high into the air, and whirled around, anger boiling in her eyes, just like it had in the classroom. I felt my own temper beginning to boil, but I forced the harsh words down into my throat.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her hands on her hips as she sneered down at me—she was a good four inches taller than me. After she spoke she seemed to notice the clothes I wore that were designed to be comfortable during combat. Her face changed swiftly into one of surprise and then disgust. "Shit."

I felt a pang in my heart—no mother wants to hear their daughter act like they would rather die than spend time with their mother. I shoved it away, but the frayed ropes reigning in my pain and temper were breaking. "Watch your mouth," I corrected her. "You might behave like you have no manners, but at least try not to sound that way." Damn. I hadn't meant to say that, but it was too late now.

"Where's Dimitri?" A look temporaily flashed in her eyes that I was all too used to—love. My suspicions flared. There had to be something more than a mentor/pupil relationship going on here. I didn't mention it though—I knew from my own experiences that it would do no good.

"Guardian Belikov is in bed. He just got back a couple of hours ago and needed to sleep." At least, if I couldn't openly tell her than crushing on her mentor isn't a good idea, I could do so subtly.

"Well, I guess practice is cancelled," she said quickly, starting to head towards the door.

I stepped forward, blocking her path. "Be quiet and put these on." I handed her a pair of training mitts, wondering what I was getting myself into. Was I really so angry at my daughter that I wanted to fight? Was I trying to get her to respect me by beating her in a fight? Or was I trying to connect with her in the only way I could think of—through a shared interest in guardianship? I lead her out of the room, ignoring most of her complaints and her disgruntled expression and thinking only of my conflicting feelings. How could my daughter despise me so much? She seemed so… serious about being a guardian. Shouldn't she realize why I "abandoned" her? Well, she was just a child, I consoled myself, creating excuses for her even though she didn't deserve it.

"What are we doing?" she asked when we reached the center of the gym. She had quickly dropped to mirror my attack stance.

What had Dimitri been teaching her? "Basic offensive and defensive parrying. Use the red lines." Maybe if I kept my sentences short, I'd get more than just sullen expressions and glares out of her. Ah, hell, I wasn't kidding anyone—I was a horrible mother.

"That's all?" she asked warily.

I lunged towards her, seeing the surprise in her face as I caught her unaware. She managed to dodge just in time, and almost fell flat on her face in the process. I hadn't done anything like this in years. Feeling younger tremendously already, I answered with a touch of my old sarcasm, "Well, as you keep reminding me, I haven't seen you in five years. I have no idea what you can do." And with that, we began the exercise of me maneuvering to attack her and she nimbly dodging, barely managing to remain in the red lines. Despite all her efforts, I managed to get a couple of hits in, which I softened slightly, feeling somewhat guilty about the entire thing. But this wasn't my fault—or was it?

"So, what?" Rose panted, launching a feeble attempt at a punch that I easily evaded. "This is your way or making up for maternal negligence?"

That hit me hard—I suppose my avoidance of her would be construed by her as negligence. I longed to tell her everything—about her father, about me, about my pain, about why I gave her up. But I kept silent about it and my next words were an automatic coverup. "This is my way of making you get rid of that chip on your shoulder. You've had nothing but attitude for me since I arrived. You want to fight? " I landed a swift punch on her arm, feeling angry at myself for what I was doing. Why couldn't I come clean to her? She was my daughter. "Then we'll fight. Point." But despite all of my hesitation, I had continued to talk in this careless way, like I despised her as much as she seemed to despise me. And so the fight continued, me continuing the lie that was my unconcern for her. Until that is, she arrogantly said something that topped the rest, ripping its way right through my chest and piercing my chest.

"They're raising their children," she retorted in response to my disgusted comment about blood whores. "Something you'd know nothing about. Besides, aren't you the same as they are? I don't see a ring on your finger. Wasn't my dad just a fling for you?"

My face shattered and quickly became a steel mask, hiding my pain. I wanted to yell that he wasn't a fling, that he was so, so, so much more. But I didn't. "That is something you know nothing about. Point." And it was true—she knew nothing about Dillon. Except that he had Turkish blood, which wasn't saying much. And it was my decision, my choice that she didn't know. I had decided it long ago for reasons even I couldn't fathom.

"How'd it happen?" she demanded. I cringed as she continued. "Were you on some assignment in Turkey? Meet him at a local bazaar? Or was it even cheaper than that? Did you go all the way to Darwin and select the guy most likely to pass on warrior genes to your offspring? I mean, I know you only had me because it was your duty, so I suppose you had to make sure you gave the guardians the best specimen you could."

I was seething. I had never been mad in my life. "Rosemarie," I snarled. "For once in your life, shut up."

"Why? Am I tarnishing your precious reputation? It's just like you told me: you aren't any different from any other dhampire, either. You just screwed him—" She never got to finish.

I lunged forward impulsively, blinded by a red fire burning in me, and punched her with all my might in the face. She fell backwards, hitting her head on the gym floor with a loud crack. Oh, my God.

"Rose? Rose? Are you okay?" I gasped desperately. Her eyes stayed close, and I panicked, my memories flying back to the night where I had crouched, just like that, leaning over a body so beloved, just like Rose's, but he hadn't woken up. And then I was sobbing and reaching in my pocket to get the cell phone and dialing Kirova's number and yelling at her to bring a stretcher and hurry and snapping the phone shut.

And then I was kneeling by my daughter's unconscious body, knowing that she couldn't hear me. And I was telling her, whispering, telling her about everything.

Not such a happy ending, but that's life, I suppose. Anyways, a HUGE thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through the story.  You guys are amazing, and hopefully I'll come back to the Vampire Academy to write another fanfic. As always, have a wonderful day and happy Halloween.

Mel.