The author was frustratingly vague about this part.


Fahrenheit stumbled out of the burning building that was to be his best friend's tomb. He pushed away the concerned paramedics, his eyes swimming with tears, trying to find the one person that could understand the weight that was pressing on him from all sides. There she was. Standing, waiting for him. His most precious Mistress.

As soon as their eyes made contact, her face softened and the tears started to fall down his cheeks. He went quickly to her and bent his head to her shoulder, crying silently. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him as he wept for his friend. He couldn't move, he didn't want to move, he just wanted to stay leaning on her without anyone else around.

The cops and more paramedics came, trying to speak with him, but Ami snapped at them to go away, and led him over to an ambulance being driven by a female police officer who she seemed to know. They were speaking, but he couldn't make it out, all he could do was grip Ami's hand tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping him tied to reality. The police woman glanced at his traumatized expression and nodded. Ami made him lie down in a gurney and he curled up, blocking out the inside of the ambulance with his forearm, because he didn't want to see anything.

"I hate my family," he whispered to her in a strangled voice, "I really, really hate them. I'll never forgive them. Never."

"I'm don't like most of them either," Ami admitted, pulling up the blanket to cover his shoulders.

"Mistress, please, please don't make me go back to them," he begged, "I want to stay here as long as I can. I don't want to go back."

"No, no I want you to stay too. Stay as long as you can."

Ami sat with her back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her. Fahrenheit's head and shoulders rested on her lap, his face pressed into her stomach and his arm over his eyes, as if hiding. Ami held him as he drifted in and out of sleep, either way in a nightmare. She gently brushed the damp strands of hair back from his face.

Dorothy came in and opened her mouth, but Ami forestalled her.

"He really did love Ricardo, didn't he?"

Her aunt gave a frustrated sigh.

"Fahrenheit can't feel real love," she told her, annoyed, "there are no exceptions."

"You're wrong," Ami said quietly.

"What?" Dorothy asked incredulously.

"I said you're wrong," Ami repeated, "He did love him. Even Fahrenheit can feel love. I can tell."

"Humph."

Dorothy stalked out.

Ami looked down at the sleeping young man.

"You can," she murmured to him, kissing his forehead, "I know it. Even if you don't."


Awww. Review?