Years Go By

I curled up into a little ball beside the bookshelf. The warm sun filtering in through the window had encouraged me. It felt so good – such a simple pleasure. The pile of books beside me, that I still meant to flip through, are stacked in a strange array of ugly colors. Honestly, why do libraries bind books in colors like pumpkin, olive, mustard, and I think that is supposed to be blue. Or some ugly form of it. It looks like navy with grey and brown blended into it. But I like the black book that is serving as my pillow right now – hey, it's no different than sleeping on automail.

I guess I can sleep anywhere.

The past three years were good. Well, once the whole secret conspiracy involving Fuhrer Bradley and the homunculi were over. I fixated entirely on Al and went after the philosopher's stone with new found exuberance. About a year later, I succeeded. Not with the philosopher's stone exactly, but with an inventive array of my own. Willing to lose anything, I took Al's body back.

It took everything I had to get Al back and not incur more damage to my own body. The price I paid for Al was the inability to restore myself. I was okay with that. Even though I wanted to be normal again – to have my missing arm and leg restored – I accepted this fate. It was my punishment. I trespassed in forbidden territory. I should be the one to bear the proof of it. No one else. It had taken the length of six months to convince Al that he should be okay with it too.

We were so happy after our proper reunion – our small family, Pinako, Winry, Al and me. During this time I stayed in Resembool and never left. There were no trains, no wild adventures, no near-death battles – nothing but well deserved peace spent on the quiet countryside. I loved being with them but as time went on something wasn't right. The quiet peace I had begun to give way to an uneasy sense of misplacement. As I watched Al strengthen his near atrophied human form, a line appeared.

A line I never noticed before.

A line Al refused to see.

We were two separate people once more. I had to go my way and Al his. If we continued on bound together… I didn't want to see an unhappy outcome. As sad as it made me, I severed my close bond with my brother for his betterment – even if he didn't see it yet. It was a difficult day; the day I left. Winry called me an idiot, Al refused to speak, and Granny only gave me a tight smile and told me not to be a stranger.

Despite my options, I went back to the military. I'm not sure why – no that's a lie. I know why. I just don't want to admit it. Still, the lie I held on to, the lie I told others, was logical enough. Researching on my own was too limited even with University support. While researching under a sponsor opened up possibilities, I had seen what such sponsors researched. It was never good and never within the realm of my interests. My only viable option was to return to the military. I knew that I'd never be the model solider that Hawkeye or Falman is… but I could research again. And without limitation.

With all my reservations in mind, I returned. A little bit taller – I can't seem to get past five foot five inches – and older; just past my 18th birthday. I went back alone leaving Al with Winry and Granny wondering all the while why you never sent anyone to get me – not even to see if I lived through Al's restoration. Or if I was restored. Perhaps shaking off an annoyance such as me was a welcomed relief. The entire train ride back to you I wondered and worried that I was leaving a good home – my family – for a place that would turn me away.

You didn't turn me away, but I sure wasn't warmly received. I remember the stupid jeers from your underlings, but most of all I remember the surprised look on your face. It was a strangely satisfying yet discouraging moment – seeing that smug look knocked firmly from your face. But seeing it for this reason wasn't as good as I hoped. You thought I wouldn't come back. Maybe you didn't want me to come back.

But I did.

And the truth…

I came back because I know no other way.

I came back because I have nothing else to hold onto.

You let me continue to research whatever interests me at the time. Why wouldn't you? I know I make you look exceptional to the higher ups in the military and the public. Especially now with the ability to become Fuhrer available again.

All because the Council failed spectacularly.

After the Fuhrer Bradley incident, all of the top military officials split into two camps. The ones who wanted to be Fuhrer and the ones who were being quietly indicted for helping the former Fuhrer. I suppose Briggs was in its own, third, camp. The entire unit has its own problems to deal with. To ease the public, a Council was formed using the senior most members of the larger townships' legislature. The belief being that if one man wielded too much power, dividing it and giving it to a "wise" Council of elders would alleviate this problem. A bandage for a broken leg. A fact proven all too quickly. To date, the creation of the Council was deemed an unsuccessful experiment. True, they couldn't be power hungry, but they also proved to be ineffective as well. Only the reconstruction project was underway and it was moving very, very slowly. Too slowly for those affected.

But now, now with the abject failure of the Council acknowledged, the chance to be Fuhrer was reopened. I hadn't heard if they limited the Fuhrer's powers in any way, but I doubt you would waste any time reminding everyone of your bid for promotion. Now how to earn it? Military accolades might work for some, but it may make the public uneasy. Too reminiscent of Fuhrer Bradley. Well, there was the fact that you led the group that overthrew Bradley – that was gold star in your pocket. But what you really wanted to remind everyone of was me – The People's Alchemist. How your find overturned the idea that State Alchemists were dogs of the military. A plot so well planned that I could only play into your hand.

It makes me feel so bitter towards you.

I open my eyes to once again glance at the titles before me. They're all basic alchemy books. Something I hadn't read since I was five. But because of you I'm rereading them. You gave me the task of creating the new State Alchemy exam. It was a periodic task given to some unfortunate State Alchemist every two years. The idea behind it was that the test needed to reflect the current scientific understanding of the field. It wouldn't do if some applicant protested their exam on the basis of invalidated fact. Nevertheless, seeing as how I got this auspicious task, I intended to improve it is every way possible. Something you surely anticipated. More accolades in your bid for Fuhrer.

Damn, I bet I have to grade this too.

Somehow with all these thoughts piling up, I just can't seem to care about you or the stupid test. I continue to let my mind wander drifting in and out of consciousness. The sun's warmth aiding to my drowsiness, while the wood beneath me adjusted to my body temperature creating a wondrous feeling where everything was harmonious. I was almost completely asleep when I heard the clack of boots. Each sharp click shredding my tranquil state into pieces with the knowledge that only military boots made that particular disquieting sound. A sound designed to impress others with such a loud resonance.

Then again I'm at the First Branch Library's Alchemical Wing, so only military personnel should be here.

I slowly push myself up. Sleep refusing to leave my body – fighting to hold onto the tranquility from a moment ago. It's so warm. But the irritating cadence of boots draws closer to my spot along the windows. Just as I begin to rub my left eye and yawn, you turn the corner with a scowl planted firmly on your face.

I should tell you that it makes you look old. I wonder how you would react.

There had been a time when I desperately wanted to impress you. Now, it didn't really matter. I knew you wouldn't get rid of me and you knew I needed you. The People's Alchemist – your poster boy for the masses. What other value do I hold for you?

I suppose that it is a better role than temporary chaos.

I place a dopey grin on my face just to watch your reaction - to see what it would do to the scowl on your face. My results arrived instantly. The scowl dropped. In its place was stunned exasperation. Your dark eyes, contrasted so nicely against pale skin, slightly widen at my audacity and then that tick above your right eye presents itself. My experiment fails the moment those same eyes narrow once again and your mouth twists into a deeper scowl. To think that I once…

"Is this what you do all day?" Your tone quiet considering the location but still containing all the authority of one who really thinks he's superior.

Let's put an end to that.

"Sometimes. Usually I sleep over there." I point in the direction of two large windows about two yards from us.

Ah, there's that tick again. I wonder about your blood pressure. A man at your age should be careful. But I suppose that it rather hypocritical coming from someone trying to irritate you. A heavy sigh signals your understanding of this futile standoff. Moving to get down on one knee, you lowered yourself to speak to me face to face.

"Why do you enjoy pissing me off?"

I shrug and move to sit up so that my back is leaning against the bookshelf – my feet straight out before me.

"Edward…"

My real name, this must be important. You only say my name when you're trying to impress upon me how important something is to you. You begin to explain something, but my mind is frozen. I don't know why that reappeared in my thoughts, but it did – agreeable. Just one word. How important was just one word to me? You refused to give me that small token, but I've given you everything that is important to you. Granted, I like to make it difficult, but only because you failed with that one word.

"One word…" I muttered it so softly that I hoped you hadn't heard it the moment it slipped out.

"What?"

Dammit. "Uhhh, nothing. Go on."

"About…"

I waited, staring back at you as if to conceal my inattentiveness. Aw, screw it. "About what?"

"Exactly. Dammit Fullmetal, do you ever listen?"

"Yes." I know I sound like a scolded child. A child…

You sigh again and being to rub the bridge of your nose in effort to stave off the impending headache. "Edward, I know that this is boring to you, but it is important too."

I realize that it is best to remain silent. I can't say anything that you want to hear.

"Do you understand that I've placed you in a position to decide who can become a State Alchemist?"

I nod once. Leaving my head hanging and my face completely obscured by blonde hair. I don't want you to see me. I hate it. I hate that after all this time… even after all this time you still matter. The disappointment that tinges your voice coupled with the tolerated impatience one reserves for scolding a child rings loudly in my ears. I want to hate you, but some small part wants to please you still. I remind myself I do hate you. I do. It's a lie. It's a lie.

How could I ever explain this?

Your soft tone breaks through my conflicted thoughts, "Then why are you sleeping through it?"

Because I want to. Because it brings me a small moment of peace. Because between hating you and wanted to please you – I'm unable to accomplish anything.

Then you surprise me completely. I feel your fingers touch and lift my chin forcing me out of my hiding place. Your other hand brushes the hair from my face so gently that it hurts. I shut my eyes – my only option left. I'm too vulnerable now – too exposed.

You'll know.

I know you're looking at me. Those impossibly omniscient black eyes are prying away – demanding my compliance. Your fingers slip out from underneath my chin and I let my head drop once again. My eyes now open once my curtain of hair falls into place.

I hear you let out a frustrated breath. "When did you stop trusting me, Edward?"

You don't wait for the answer. You know I won't give it. Instead, I listen as the clack of boots fades away from me.

My moment of tranquility shattered into unrecognizable bits by your words.

I'm glad you didn't see what was in my eyes. I'm glad you think I don't trust you. It is easier this way – this wall between us. I have my side and you have yours. So why… why this pain? Again, I look at the pile of books beside me. Might as well finish my review. Napping is no longer an option with the guilty echoes of your voice in my head.

By the time I finished, the sky had grown dark and stars could be seen above the lit walkways. As I headed home my usual way, along Main Street in Central to Cedar, my ever fixated mind replayed our interaction in the library. Warring factions of the mind can never be quieted – especially when they argued about this afternoon. I walked into the restaurant district where the streets are thick with a variety dining choices and I always contemplate ordering a quick dinner instead of attempting to cook. It was then that I heard your voice. Looking around to see if it was really you or an echo in my memory, I scanned the line of restaurants and shops across the street.

There you are.

Isn't that in a song? Across a crowded room…

I've always liked you best when you didn't wear a military uniform. I was never one for fashion but clearly you are. You're wearing a simple, pale blue button-up shirt while carrying the assumingly matching black suit coat under one arm. Your collar is open leaving that one button undone. Even from my spot across the street I can see it. It's relaxed – casual. A state I never get to see you in. Your smile appears welcoming as you found something your date said amusing.

Your date for this night is obviously beautiful – you'd have no other. She's dressed so nicely; the hem of her lacey white skirt fluttering around her calves at every movement. A pale yellow shawl covers her bare shoulders as if to ward off an imaginary cold in the middle of summer. I watch you lean in to whisper something in her ear – running your hand through her light blonde hair.

My left hand moves the touch the end of my ponytail. If I bothered more, I'd bet my hair is prettier than hers. Her hair is the color of sand – mine brilliant gold. As the hair slips through my fingertips, I can feel the rough split ends from my lack of care. I'd bet hers isn't like that. It's probably soft – smooth to the touch like fine silk.

This is stupid.

I sigh, turning to avoid the scene before me. You look so happy. Why shouldn't you?

Going out with girl is normal. What I want… well I've never been normal. And even if you were willing, if you did want… I'd never look that good. Not with the sign of my sin as transparent as glass – an uneven walk, the touch of cold steel. Not pretty or graceful at all.

And what romance novel writes about cold touches? Isn't it supposed to be warm?

I realize that I'm clenching my right hand in a fist. Lifting it as if to inspect it, I stare at it – this strange part of me. It isn't normal. I suddenly wished it was cold enough to wear a coat and gloves. Instead, I'm exposed in my usual black tank top. Running my left hand over the metal of my right arm, I remember that I wouldn't feel temperature anyway. Not on that side.

What was I thinking anyway? That you would give it all up? Forget your destined climb through the ranks – the thing you worked so hard for. For what? Me?

The best and worst part about dreams is that they never come true. If it did then it was never a dream to begin with. It was a goal.

I forgot who said that.

Never mind dinner. I need to get home. I'm being far too honest with myself tonight.

I managed to find my way back to my apartment. Living in the dorms had been far too suffocating. Plus the walls were way too thin – cheap government housing. There were no secrets in the dorms and, frankly, listening to the sexually frustrated enlisted males of the Amestrisian military was disturbing. With my rank I was able to get an apartment and I moved the instant it was approved.

I'm greeted by my current roommates in a chorus of loud whines and yips. For some reason without even trying I accidentally made friends with one of your underlings – technically two but I would never count Riza as an underlying. Still, I hadn't meant to befriend either of the two, but the two of them had somehow found their way into my life time and time again. Riza gave me the support I needed and a willing ear. In return I tried to help her whenever I could – or at least not piss her off. I guess I couldn't resist a substitute mother. Kain had just needed me. Being a big brother, I couldn't resist creating a supplemental Al – just one who preferred dogs. Now my apartment acts as a temporary shelter for the various strays he finds. In truth, however, those animals have kept me sane. Especially one in particular. It was a black mutt that barely stood a foot off the floor that I affectionately named Scruffy since his hair was always a mess.

I fed the others as Scruffy followed me around. I really do love that dog. He always listens to my every complaint – not like he really has a choice, but I think he does care. Kain agreed with me. Animals know when something is wrong. Just like tonight. Scruffy somehow knows I'm not right tonight.

Seeing you did this.

Seeing you with her – any her in fact.

I watch Scruffy circle the foot of the bed for the eighteenth time before he flops down to roll over on his back. He looks so cute right now. His ears flopped out flat on the bed making the faint traces of pink under his ears visible – his little tongue hanging out. He looked at me through nearly fur covered eyes. 'Feel better.'

Is it that simple?

Feel better. Move on. Forget about you?

I don't know anymore. I reach out with my left hand to rub his belly – getting a look of contentment from Scruffy. He likes me.

I wish you did.

I figured that you'd be available sometime around two in the afternoon. By then the usual morning craziness had subsided – so I wouldn't have to deal with that crap. Plus you were more receptive to listen to my ideas, radical as they may be.

And today I want to fire people.

It took me another three days to complete the new version of the stupid test that allowed me in here in the first place. After that was finished, I set my sights on the current list of State Alchemists. Upon reviewing those, I realized that I work too damn hard. Which is why I want to fire people. Their research sucks – it's both pointless and stupid. And it took a whole day of my time to figure that out.

They had to pay for that.

I know that's mean but… okay so I do like power. Mwhahahaha.

I popped my head into the outer office door to scan the occupied desks. Havoc was in the corner pretending to be somewhere else as his cigarette burned dangerously close to his mouth. Breda was hidden behind the afternoon edition of the newspaper. Hmm… if he's done reading it by the time I'm finished with you I won't have to buy a copy. Kain is nowhere to be seen along with Falman – maybe a late lunch. I felt Hawkeye's eyes rest on me. Placing on my usual grin, I walked over to her. She appeared to be attempting to figure out why I'm here.

Riza Hawkeye was an interesting friend. Outside of work she can be so insightful, even amazingly sweet, but during business hours she can be scary. Almost like she was two different people – she even wears her hair differently. So it's always a tossup. But now, I'd bet she was wondering what kind of hell I'm going to raise in the next five minutes.

Why leave her hanging?

"Hey, Hawkeye." I point to your office. "Is he busy?"

"Always." I pick up 'since he's lazy' under her breath. I can't deny the truth to that. "But he's not back yet."

Or maybe she is wondering why I'm here and you're not. "Huh? But it's a little after two."

She creased her dark blonde brows slightly revealing a level of surprise in her brown eyes. "I'm surprised you know his schedule. He should be here by…"

I watch her head lift up slightly making me wonder what's happening behind me. It's moments like this when I wish I had better instincts – not that I don't. For some reason, in this office, I'm continually reduced to a fumbling idiot. That's when I felt your hand at the back of my neck. Your fingers curling slightly at the juncture of my throat and flesh shoulder. You addressed me in your flat commander voice – the one I hate so much. The one that reminds me…

"Hello Fullmetal. I'm surprised to see you. I thought you were spending your afternoons sleeping at the library."

I tried turning to level my own insult when I realize that the pressure you've placed on my neck won't let me. I tried to turn again only feel you hold me in my place. I can only turn one way. Away from you, towards my left, and directly in the path to your office. Frustrated and pissed off beyond belief, I tried to jerk free once more and felt your grip tighten. Surrendering to my current position, I spat out the only thing I could, "Bastard."

"Now, now. I'm being nice…"

"The hell you are!"

You begin to push me in the direction of your office and I notice Hawkeye give me a grim smile. Sometimes I think she knows how I feel about you. Then again, I think she feels the same way I do. We both… we're held at arm's length from you. The only difference between us is that she is a fellow officer. I'm a stray you found on your way to the top. Just some weird thing you found on a fishing expedition.

I'm a fool to want more.

"Now Fullmetal, that was friendly. It's not like I made a joke about your stature."

Now I'm furious – again. I hate how you make me feel. I can never be sure. I'm angry, pissed off, then sad to happy to who knows what's next. You make me bounce around so much that I can't react because the next one is already coming and I don't know what to do. You purposely keep me off balance – so unsure.

I feel your hand release some of the previous pressure. I really want to get even for this treatment. You don't do this with anyone else. Why me? And why just recently? Just as I'm ready to make a complete spin to face you and tell you off properly, you surprise me again. Your thumb begins to make small, slow, careful circles – like you were actually caressing me.

I didn't think one could feel their mind shut down.

I don't recall anything other than the pressure of your hand guiding me into your office and that sly moment of your thumb. Next thing I knew, you had managed to get me compliant enough to maneuver me towards one of the chairs facing your desk. As you guided me to the selected chair, I felt your hand skirt across my back and slide off just above my waist line. You walked around to the other side of the desk without faltering – like nothing had happened. Completely numb from shock, I sat down.

When did you start touching me!

Just like in the library. How could just one touch… how could such a little touch… it's all so confusing.

I'm off balance.

I blink staring off blankly at the curtains behind you. I start to feel a little cold from the lack of warmth from your hand.

"Fullmetal?"

"Oh, uh… huh?" Brilliant. And I'm a fucking a genius. If I could have, I would have smacked my own forehead.

"What did you want?"

Oh the dirty comments that came to mind. "Oh, I, uh…" Slowly the gears in my mind resumed their usual movement – it was difficult after a forced shut down. "I… I wanted to show you how the test is coming along."

Those black eyes widen in surprise as your lips formed a self-satisfied grin. Leaning forward to place your chin on folded hands you lock eyes with me. I have your full and undivided attention.

Why the hell did I want that?

I wanted… needed to fidget like a child in a church pew. Bearing the all-consuming awareness that nothing is really comfortable, except the desire for constant movement.

"That's… new."

I really hate your word choice. But that cold dose of reality helped to settle my fidgety behavior.

"Yeah, well, I've pretty much destroyed the original test." I tossed a copy of my handiwork onto the desk causing a stray paper to float off the desk and flutter onto the ground without a sound. I'm kinda disappointed I only got one. "That and I reviewed the current employment list of State Alchemists to ensure that the test reflects what we actually do. As a result, I want-to-fire-some-of-them." I slurred the last bit together as a single word and winced as I waited for the impending explosion.

Or so I thought.

You calmly took the copy I threw and flipped through it mildly interested. I watched the dazzling array of wild blue and red marks from my own hand fall on top of one another as you flipped the papers. I still write like crap – it doesn't get any better so why try? Finished with the small booklet, you placed it on your desk with your hand on top of the copy to stare back at me. I tried to stare back. But I ended up looking away to the curtains behind you, the bookshelf on the left, the door to the right, the little cannon on the desk, the amazing craftsmanship of the hardwood floors.

"Fullmetal."

"Huh."

"What was that last part?"

"I reviewed the current employment…"

"Not that."

"I want-to-fire…"

"That. Repeat that – slowly."

My traitorous foot began to grind itself into the floor. Placing my eyes on your name tag I began. "I want…"

"Up here. I know it's hard, but look up."

Gritting my teeth to hold back a rather impressive insult, I look up at you. Did you know I needed to be pissed off to look you in the eye? Without anger, my courage to face you flies away. "I want to fire some of them."

"Why?"

Wait… why?

Feeling slightly elated at the realization that you are being receptive to my idea, I tried to think of the best way to explain my reason. The kind of explanation that those underlings in the outer office would give. Something you would understand. Something you would respect.

"Their work is terrible – barely readable. It's mostly pointless, with a few exceptions."

I watch you lean back in your chair making the leather creak. Folding your hands and placing them beyond my sight, "How so?"

Continuing on with my newfound sense of… well, I really don't know. Equality? Acceptance? I actually don't know the word for this. I entered into my long winded rant about their work – attempting to make it better than a rant; more like a rational rant. I really can't say if I succeeded. I described how the subjects were pointless, the research wasn't up to standard, some experimental groups appear to have been faked or cherry picked, some results looked completely made up, the writing was sub-par, and so much more. You remained passive the entire time. I'm not sure if I impressed you or just irritated you by the end. I stupidly hoped for the former.

"Hmm." You leaned forward again assuming your common pose. "Is that all?"

Is that all? You want more than that? Damn, maybe I wasn't as prepared as I thought. Should I have brought examples? Maybe a list of the names I wanted to fire. "Pretty much."

"Okay. Do you have a list?"

Shit, I should have brought a list. "Not on me. I wanted to run the idea by you first."

"That's fair. Make up a list of names and explanations why. I'll look into the process, but if you're right about the work then the State should revoke their Certification."

I couldn't suppress the smile that snuck its way onto my face. You really listened to me this time – maybe I even impressed you. Granted, it will probably only make you look good to the higher ups and the public for fiscal conservancy, but in a way you supported me. It was my idea. It was what I wanted to do. I felt a strange bubble of excitement fill my chest.

"Okay, I'll get it to you tomorrow?"

"That's fine."

Too happy to care, I watched you resume the tiresome process of signing your name. Really, why don't you buy a signature stamp? If you had a few stamps even the underlings in the outer office could speed up the signing process. Not like Breda's doing anything – oh yeah, Breda's paper. I've got to get it before I go.

I reached the door and went to open it when I felt you behind me. Did anyone tell you you're being really sneaky today? I usually can hear your boots. I froze in place with my hand on the dull brass knob – my back to you. What should I do?

You leaned down to my right side close enough so that your breath brushed hot against my ear. I suppressed the urge to shudder. "And Edward I do trust you."

You brushed the hair from my ponytail off my shoulders running your fingers over me and down my back. Ah… the air was too thick to breathe as I nervously gulped any air into my mouth. I could picture the look of pure shock pasted on face – my eyes so impossibly wide that they seem to consume half of my face.

I can't respond to this. My face felt hot as my heartbeat quickened to the point I felt as if I had just finished a fight with a homunculus. Pulling myself together long enough to nod weakly in the affirmative, I bolted out the door. The fear of others being able to read my expression so strong that I forgot about the newspaper I was going to swipe.

I didn't stop moving until I reached the library. I needed to be around items I felt secure with – safe. Books were always safe. Always dependable. It also helped that they were inanimate objects without emotions or feelings to confuse the living hell out of me.

Unlike you.

Finding a back section of the library I knew no one visited, unless Scieszka was on shift, I felt I could finally relax. I sat down on the floor curling my legs up to my chest and my back against the bookshelf. Taking a moment to calm down, I let the familiar scent of bound pages soothe me.

Okay what happened?

I replayed the entire interaction between us again in my mind. The only anomalies were that: one, I was unable to insult you back; two, you listened you me and not the usual half-hearted I think you're just entertaining childish babble listening either; and three, you kept touching me. While the first two indicate some sort of adult interaction between us – maybe that more equal relationship I wanted so badly before you said "agreeable" – the last one says something else.

A big something else.

If I was a girl I would have sworn you were hitting on me – subtly yes, but still flirting. But I know you differently. I wonder what it really means?

I was so consumed in my thoughts – trying to understand you – I didn't hear the sound of boots clicking against the floor. It wasn't until you were standing before me that I noticed you. I look up from my current position. My eyes tracing you as I followed a line from your boots to your face. Panic grips my already frayed nerves and tightens my chest, as it dawns on me that I'm completely alone and no one comes back here. I haven't felt this way since Al was nothing more than a hollow suit of armor.

Your left hand lowers to my eye level in an unspoken gesture of aid. It felt so surreal – like my body and mind were separated. My limbs moving of their own accord and not my will. The rough texture of flint cloth closing in around my hand lets me know I accepted your offer. I can't move my eyes to verify. Once I looked up at you, I haven't stopped staring at your face trying desperately to read your expression. Why? Why are you here?

You haven't said a word yet. It's beginning to bother me more and more. My restricted chest barely lets in a full breath and my overloaded mind is digging itself deeper and deeper into complete alarm. Say something! You've never passed up a chance to crack a joke at my height or make some comment just to piss me off. Especially now when you have all the ammunition you need. Please say something anything – even if it hurts.

But you don't.

Your hand leaves mine to place them on either side of my head – your thumbs underneath my jaw. I've never seen you like this before. You almost look confused. And you never are. Not that I've seen.

I open my mouth to speak and my shortened breath restrains my voice. Forcing the resolve to speak through my mind in order to end this silence, "Gen-er-al…"

It is broken and weak, but a word manages its way out.

The heavy wool cloth of your uniform makes a small, near undistinguishable sound as you lean down to whisper into my ear, "Shh."

The feeling of hot air brushing past my ear is becoming all too familiar. There was no way I could suppress the shudder that tickled its way through my shoulders and neck. Not with you this close and your intention muddled.

I hear you give out a muted chuckle. What did I do? Again against my ear, "I should have known you'd… Ed, you confuse me so."

"Huh? Gen…"

I'd never been happier to be cut-off mid-word. You claimed my mouth in a movement so practiced that I barely registered it. At first nothing connected in my mind. I just stood there letting you do whatever it was you desired with me. Your fingers sliding along my jaw line to keep my head up. Your lips, surprisingly soft, placing such gentle pressure. When I found it in me to respond, you quickly rewarded me with a small groan.

Your hands left my jaw to guide my arms over your shoulders, telling me to keep them there by silent gesture. Soon I had wrapped them around your neck – forcing me to bend my back to meet you. With my acceptance, any sense of hesitation was lost. I felt your kiss become aggressive, more demanding as the softness you began with faded into something more urgent. Your tongue swept across my lips and I quickly parted them for you. Eagerly letting you in. Those guiding hands moved to my waist to lift me off the ground and press my body against the bookshelf for leverage. Your tongue explored my mouth sliding over my own – encouraging a response.

I had never felt anything like this. My body almost uncomfortably hot and my head so light – my thoughts swimming. I moved my tongue to respond to yours. Pushing back and even entering your mouth as I tightened my grip on you. I couldn't help but moan. All of this was too much. The way you were touching me – now kissing me. What did it mean?

A deep growl was the only response to my unspoken question. Urgency gripped both of us tightly as you shoved me harder against the shelf. Trapping me so that no space existed between our bodies. The heat from your body sending such new sensations through me – making my legs weak, my heart pound. I could hear both of us breathing so shallowly – needed much more air, but not daring to break this.

It finally had to end. Separating enough to catch the air we so desperately needed but holding onto each other still pinned against the shelf, you lowered your head to my left side kissing the skin on my neck. It wasn't enough, soon your tongue placed a long lick against my throat – enough of an invitation for me to lean my head back giving you the space you desired. Not one to waste what was freely offered, you feverishly began to nibble and suck at the newly exposed skin.

I moaned again. My body so incredibly hot. This had to be a dream – this isn't real. I couldn't have kissed you. You weren't really here. I would wake up from this hot and aroused in tangled, sweaty sheets and Scruffy at the foot of the bed. As if knowing I was denying this, you bit down gently enough to cause a shock of pain to my system. The act eliciting a small cry of surprise from my lips and forcing me to focus on you.

Licking over the bite, I felt your lips trace my throat down to my collar bone until you reached the hollow of my throat. You placed such a sweet, chaste kiss there it was confusing. As if the urgency – the heat – from just moments ago evaporated into thin air. You moved to my chin and repeated the action. Finding my mouth once again, you kissed me so sweetly that I feared the intention. Did I do something wrong? What changed? I slid down the bookcase as you gingerly set me back onto the ground. Your shallow pants for breath mirroring my own.

I open my mouth to speak, but I don't know what to say – how should I address you?

You move again to grasp my shoulders and press me against you – almost like we were hugging. You laid your cheek against the top of my head as your fingers moved up to play with the loose hair from my ponytail.

I wanted to ask so many questions right now. But most of all I wanted to know what this exactly meant. Do you feel the way I do?

I need an explanation. What is it? Dammit, I don't understand? You have to tell me. I want to break this contact just so you would understand my need to know, but I don't want to.

I won't.

I've wanted this all along. I told myself that it was only respect – acknowledgment that I was a capable adult. But that was another self-deluding lie. I didn't want to admit it to myself. That I was annoyed with myself for being unable to hide my feelings. That I feared you knowing what was behind my blushing – my repeated attempts to avoid your gaze. That the reason it hurt so deeply when you called me "agreeable" was that it felt like a rejection.

I tried to convince myself that there was no chance especially when the sign of my sin was made permanent. When there was no chance at restoration…

But in truth I still held hope.

You finally broke our contact again. Your fingers tipping my chin upwards so that I have to look at you once again. While your other hand moves to stroke my cheek gently.

So quiet it was a whisper from your lips, "Edward…"

My mind screamed for an answer. With our self-imposed silence now broken, "What… I don't…"

"Shh. I'll explain later. Be home around seven tonight. I should be able to leave work by then."

"Uh… oh, okay."

You moved again to press a soft kiss to my lips. The brief contact only fueled my desire for more. Apparently satisfied with our parting you walked away – as if what had happened, didn't. I leaned back against the bookshelf. My mind was a mess – everything about me felt so disjointed.

What changed?

Why are you doing this now?

Why did I have to wait for seven tonight? Tell me now! Ease my anxious mind. I'd built this barrier between us. It was designed to keep us apart – in part to calm my overly hopeful desires. But mostly it allowed us to… to keep up the charade. I hate you, you Bastard, and you tolerate me. With barely a word you've shattered it, broke it into pieces, and I'm not sure how to proceed.

The large tower in the center of Central Command chimed loudly to tell everyone that it was four in the afternoon. That gave me three hours until… you'd come to my home. The one that was currently occupied by three strays, Scruffy, and my general mess.

Suddenly finding it in me to move again I scrambled to head home. I couldn't let you see the state of my home right now. A small part argued that it didn't matter. That if this was going where I hoped it was, you'd have to accept me as I am.

Funny how that argument sounded strangely a lot like Al's voice.

I shook my head. Nope, that damned desire to make even the slightest positive impression on you won out. I needed to conceal my less than stellar housework. Gathering up my things I've never been so eager to leave a library.

A/N: Please review/rate – it makes me so happy.

*Need a charity? Visit nationalmssociety (dot) org for information on how you can help fight Multiple Sclerosis.