Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters belong to Sunao Yoshida. Not me. The lyrics are from the musical "Aida," written by Elton John. Also not me.

Part I: Half a Step Behind

It's so strange he doesn't show me
more affection than he needs.
Almost formal, too respectful,
never takes romantic leads.
There are times when I imagine
I'm not always on his mind.
He's not thinking what I'm thinking.
Always half a step behind.

She hated birthdays. They were a special occasion of the utmost pretense. The guests were chosen, not for their relationships with her, but for their political potential. The traditional formal dinner was made, not to honor or please her, but to impress. It was much the same with the gifts.

And so, rather than celebrate, she worked. She performed as she had been trained to do. She ensured that her sweet, false smile did not waver for a moment. She chatted politely with her family and their guests--most of whom she didn't like, in the least. She thanked them all profusely for their meaningless gifts.

And the moment she had finished exchanging handshakes and pleasantries with the last of the guests, she made her escape. She practically ran from the building, out to the path toward the gardens that had served as her own personal sanctuary for as long as she could remember.

She smiled genuinely for the first time in hours as she stepped through the archway that had always seemed like a door to another world to her--a world of peace and beauty, so unlike the one in which she lived. She paused, for a moment, closing her eyes and breathing in the mingling scents of flowers and grass and earth that drifted on the warm evening breeze. How wonderful it was to breathe again.

But unlike the blossoms that surrounded her, she'd never been content to plant herself in one place for too long. And so, she wandered aimlessly along familiar meandering paths, her feet carrying her, without thought, to all of her favorite places.

So it was that she found herself in the grotto, standing on the first of the three stone steps that led up to the stone niche, which housed a beautiful statue of the Virgin Mary.

"Ah, there you are."

She smiled at the sound of that welcome voice, turning to face the person she'd been waiting all day to see.

"Abel." What she'd intended as a greeting sounded more like sigh of relief.

"Miss Catherina." He gave her a nod and a knowing smile as she cringed inwardly at the formality of the greeting. He'd been doing that sort of thing a lot lately. Perhaps he was simply trying to treat her more like an adult. After all, she had just celebrated her eighteenth birthday. Or perhaps some outside party had suggested that their relationship was too friendly, and he sought to rectify that appearance. Whatever the reason, she didn't like it. She didn't like the feeling that her closest friend was trying to put distance between them.

Of course, it probably wouldn't have bothered her so much were she not in love with him.

"Did your party go well?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She shrugged. "I suppose. Though, I'd hardly call it a party." She turned to study the blooms of the wisteria clinging to the stone. "I wish you'd been there," she said quietly.

He gave her a lopsided smile and shook his head. "No, you don't," he said, waving a hand. "I'm not much of a party guest. I'd have eaten all the cake, made a scene... Speaking of cake--"

"I saved you piece," she said, grinning.

"Why, thank you, Miss Catherina. You're so thoughtful."

She'd had quite enough of this "Miss" business and was just about to tell him so when he interrupted.

"Ah! Before I forget..." He reached into one of the voluminous pockets of his white coat and produced a neatly wrapped package. "Happy Birthday."

She took the package, hesitating for a moment, her smile faltering a bit as she thought that it hadn't been so very long ago that those elegant gloved hands had often held her own.

She glanced up at him, smiling anew as she noted his eager expression. In some ways, at least, he hadn't changed a bit. Suddenly overcome with curiosity, she turned her attention to the package, untying the ribbon and gently removing the paper.

"I know you already have it," he said as she stared at the book. "But your copy is so old and worn... I thought you could use a new one."

He was right. Her copy was, quite literally, falling apart. This one, however, was perfect and pristine and beautiful. It was bound in a deep red leather, the pages edged in gold, the title stamped in golden letters in an intricate, archaic script. Frankenstein. It was her favorite book.

It was the only meaningful gift she'd received.

"Oh, Abel," she whispered, her fingers tracing the gilded letters. "Thank you."

Her next action was purely impulsive. She didn't think as she threw her arms around him. Consideration didn't come until a moment later, when he hesitated and she held her breath. When at last he returned the gesture, he did so delicately, cautiously, in the most polite and respectful manner possible.

"You're welcome, Miss Catherina," he said quietly.

She sighed and pulled away, her heart aching.

"Abel..."

Didn't he understand? Didn't he know? How could he not? He was her closest friend--the only person who really knew her at all. Was it possible that he didn't know how she felt?

For a long moment she studied those familiar blue eyes, seeking an answer. But all she found was more questioning echoed back at her. He was waiting and wondering what it was that she had to say.

There were a hundred things she wanted to tell him and a hundred ways to do so--hundreds of words and phrases to choose from and none of them quite right. And then it occurred to her that there was one way to tell him everything. One simple, perfect way...

So she did it. She kissed him.

Everything stopped--the turning of the world, the passing of time, the beating of her heart--as she stood with her lips pressed gently yet fervently against his, her eyes closed, hoping and praying and waiting.

Her heart leapt as she felt his hands on her shoulders and fell as he gently pushed her away.

"Don't," he whispered.

She turned away as she felt her face reddening and poured out her heart in an instinctive defense. "I love you."

"I know," he said. "You shouldn't."

She clenched her jaw as her swirling emotions settled on fiery determination. "Maybe not," she admitted, "but I do. And I don't care what anyone else thinks. I don't give a damn if it's not 'proper' or--"

"That's not what I mean," he interrupted, shaking his head.

"Then what do you mean?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Tell me, Abel. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't love you."

He crossed his arms, as well, mirroring her resolute posture. "Because I'm not who you think I am," he stated, continuing before she had the chance to argue. "Because you don't know me half as well as you think you do. Because it is dangerous, and you'll only wind up hurt. But mostly, because I'm not worthy of being loved. By anyone."

His words hung for a moment in the suddenly still and silent air. Then she slapped him.

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. If he was hurt, he didn't show it. If he was angry, he didn't show it. He was utterly still and silent, as if carved from stone--or perhaps ice.

Catherina was his exact antithesis--a conflagration. "How dare you," she growled. "How dare you think that I would be stupid enough to waste my love on anyone unworthy of it."

He regarded her calmly. "Catherina--"

"Furthermore," she interrupted. "Who are you? What don't I know? And when has loving anyone ever not been dangerous?"

He finally moved. He finally looked away. "Catherina..." he began quietly. "I can't answer all that. I can't tell you who I am. I can only tell you who I'm not. I'm not your guardian angel. I'm not a knight in shining armor. I'm not even a good person." She had barely drawn breath to argue when he held up a hand to stop her. "I know you don't believe that, but it's true. There are a lot of things I haven't told you."

"Then tell me now," she pleaded.

For a moment, she could read the anguish written across his features before he covered it with simple regret.

"I can't," he whispered.

"Why not?" she asked.

It was awful to watch him struggle so desperately for the right words, and when his gaze finally met hers, for a moment, and she saw the look in his eyes, begging for an escape, she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Never mind," she said. "Forget all that. I just want you to give me an honest answer to one simple question. Yes or no: do you love me?"

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Catherina--"

"Yes or no," she repeated.

He met her gaze resolutely, and shook his head. "No," he whispered.

She regarded him calmly and quietly, for a moment, then she nodded. "You're right, Abel" she said. "You're not who I thought you were. I never thought you would lie to me."

A/N: Part II has been written and is currently in the editing process. It should be up soon. Probably sooner if I get lots of nice reviews. (wink, wink, nudge, nudge)