Disclaimer: Oh, if only.
Author's Note: I come to you from the Nemeos Cyber Cafe in Nice, France. And if one more person asks me if I know about Angelina Jolie's babies, I'm going to shove a baguette in someone's culo. Trying to vacation, and now there's one bazillion paparazzos camped out outside the hospital she's in. You've never seen anything like this in your life. In fact, sitting next to me right now is someone blogging about her. It's fucking insane. And the babies aren't due yet! She's going to be here for weeks! Anyway, this chapter is rather short because I'm on vacation in France. But I've had this chapter on my laptop for a while, so I figured I'd post. Thank you all for the fantastic reviews.

Seven Years Earlier...

"Truscott! We're going sandboarding! Get your ass out here!" Emily screamed, "sandboard" underneath her arm. I emerged from our makeshift home in one of the caves we had found uninhabited about 250 kilometers south of Qatat. "Oh, Captain, my Captain!" Emily saluted as I emerged. Emily Walker was my Lance Corporal in our fireteam of 5, working directly beneath me. After being completely ignored for promotion even though we had served enough time (two years on active duty) we were finally promoted after being recognized nationally for capturing a rather rag-tag cell of terrorists on our last mission.

I laughed, shaking my head at her excitement. We were supposed to dispatch on our final mission to the border of Pakistan in eighteen hours. We were ending our second tour of duty, and my Sergeant had made it very clear we would not be asked on a third for a pretty large chunk of time. We were going home. So, we had traded some of our shiity military food for 'sandboards,' which were the sand equivalent of a snowboard, put on our civilian clothes, and began to ride.

Once we had found a substantial amount of sandy hills -- seeing as how some of the terrain in Afghanistan wasn't desert, it was simply mountains -- we began our day. I maneuvered my sandboard like a pro, just as I had done up until I had enlisted with the Marines. Emily, however, was failing miserably. After falling on her ass several times, she simply stood there, watching the rest of us move down the dunes. Once I had gotten back to where Emily had been struggling, I turned my head and smiled. "Need help, Walker?"

"Can it, Truscott," Emily replied, resting her elbows on her knees. "I don't understand how this works. Like, how am I supposed to balance?"

I held out my hand and helped up my comrade. I set her "goofy" style -- right foot forward -- and held her by the hips from behind. "Okay, now we're gonna start slowly." I jerked forward, setting a steady pace down the hill. "Now, to turn you just lean." I leaned forward, bringing her with me, and brought us right. I pulled her back and we went slightly left. Soon, the two of us were careening down the dunes, and I finally felt Emily relax.

I let her go, and immediately wished I hadn't. As soon as I did, Emily reached back and grabbed me. Her grab set me off balance and we both began tumbling to the ground. We landed hard on the sand, our boards dislodged from our feet, scattered a few feet away. I threw my helmet off and began to laugh, and looked to my right to see Emily had done the same. She propped her head up on her palm and looked over at me.

"You are truly awful at this, Walker. And I mean truly awful," I ribbed, getting a small shove in my side in response.

"Well, so-o-o-rry not all of us were raging tomboys in our youth. Some of us were a little more femme than that, all right?" Emily teased, flashing me her bright, wide smile.

I pretended to look offended. "How dare you? I'll have you know I was quite the boy-chaser in my days!"

Emily snorted hard, shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh, Truscott, we both know you weren't." She leaned down, hovering over my lips. "I mean, I know you've had a crush on me since the day we met."

I gulped, my head now firmly planted in the sand. She was right. I had developed a crush on her the day we met. But she had been engaged at the time, and I was too concerned about my promotion within the ranks to dwell on it. I had seen her naked numerous times, we had shared a bed, and been forced into quarters just big enough for us and two packs of water to fit into, and I had never made any sort of move on her.

"When I met you, I hated you," I clarified, a smirk plastered on my face. And I had. She was a total bitch, giving everyone in boot camp some holier-than-thou attitude that we all found equally nauseating. However, when her fiancee of two years called her from her home to tell her he was leaving her, she broke down. And, of course, I caught her in that vulnerable moment, and from then on, we were two tough bitches together.

It wasn't long after that when I fell in love with her. She was bright, funny, and not to mention the most beautiful woman in boot camp. Her eyes were a light, seafoam green, and her hair was chestnut brown, almost black. Her unparalleled beauty combined with a personality and intelligence I hadn't ever come across, even in my short time in college, made me simply just tumble into love with her. Of course, she never returned my affections, not that I made any forward attempt to convey them. Not only would that have been cause for dishonorable discharge, but it would've just been terribly embarrassing. But now here, with her lips inches from mine, I was thinking maybe I was wrong.

"Tell me you want me to kiss you," she demanded softly, moving strands of hair from my face. "Go on," she urged.

My breath hitched, and although I was concerned that the guys would find us, my eyes never left hers. "I want you to kiss me."

Emily smirked, giving me a small nod. "I knew it." With that, she swooped down and gave me a long, searing kiss. Every part of me seemed to ignite, and I curled my fingers through her brown hair and pulled her closer to me. I wanted to be engulfed by her, was my only thought as she slid her warm tongue along my lips. I wanted to drown in her. "Lilly," she whispered against my lips. It was the first time she had ever addressed me by my first name, and it sounded heavenly. "If we live through tonight --"

"Emily, don't say shit like that. You know it's a jinx," I warned, unable to stop my hands from making long lines up and down the sides of her abdomen.

Emily smiled warmly, kissing me again for a brief moment. "You and I both know this is a dangerous mission. And I' m just saying, should God find it necessary to keep us around after tonight, you're taking me on a date when we get back to the States."

I chuckled, working my hands around her body. I wanted to memorize the feel and contours of her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact, her teeth darting out to bite her lower lip. "Oh really? I have to wine and dine you first?"

Emily laughed, finally breaking our contact by standing up. She shook her head, helping me up, and in the process, pulling me against her. "No, Truscott, at this rate, you're going to have to wine and dine me second." With a sly grin she kissed me once again, then headed off to retrieve our sandboards. The guys never knew why we came back with such silly grins on our faces.

Present Time

While driving back toward the theater, I was contacted by my superiors. They told me that I was to go home, retrieve my things, and stay in the hotel room next to Miley's for the next four days. Miley did not respond to the news, she simply stared out the window as I turned off at my exit.

I sighed. "Look," I said, finally breaking the silence between us. "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier." I paused, waiting for a response. When none came, I let out another sigh and continued. "The picture you found --"

"It doesn't matter, all right?" Miley said, her voice small. I gave her a quick glance, and I noticed her eyes were slightly red. Had I made her cry? "I don't care about your stupid picture. I don't care about you."

Ouch. It was my turn to feel the sting of reproach. I nodded slowly. "I deserved that. I don't expect you to care about me. I just ...I want you to know that I'm sorry for my behavior. I keep people at a distance, and I'm just not used to having someone around."

Miley finally looked over at me, and the puffiness around her eyes had seemed to go down. I really had hurt her feelings. My heart constricted in my chest as she simply stared at me. Without a word she looked out the window once more. I sighed and kept my grip hard on the steering wheel. We were only about a couple of minutes from my apartment. "Was she your girlfriend?" Miley asked abruptly, sternly, with a lot more confidence in her voice.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment. "No," I answered firmly. "She was not my girlfriend." Miley seemed satisfied with my answer and turned away from me again. I made a left onto the street that led to the cul-de-sac where my apartment complex stood.

"But you are gay though, right?" Miley inquired again, turning to me. Off my wide-eyed stare, she backtracked. "I-I mean, I'm just saying that," Miley stumbled for words, and I couldn't help but smile a little at it. It was slightly endearing. "I mean...you are gay though, right?"

I couldn't help but laugh at her earnestness, turning into my parking garage. After allowing myself a few moments to enjoy her discomfort, I nodded. "Yes, I am gay. Though that isn't any of your business," I reminded with a chastising stare over my aviators.

"Just wonderin'. No need to get your feathers all ruffled." Miley stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her. I led her to my building, then up the two flights of stairs to my apartment. I had a fairly nice apartment, considering government pay isn't all that great. My floors were hardwood, my furniture black leather. I even had a small wet bar I had built with Oliver not too long ago beside my kitchenette.

"You can wait here, I'll go pack some of my stuff." Miley nodded in response, inquisitively staring at all of my possessions. No doubt she was going through my little keepsakes I had collected while on my tours. Every so often we'd hit a city, or a small village in Afghanistan, and I'd have some time to appreciate the local culture. Emily always enjoyed it, too.

I left her alone for about five minutes, and when I came back into my main room, she had found her way to my pictures. I had many of my family, some of Oliver and I as kids, some as adults, many of my squad, and many of Emily. Miley was at the last picture, a candid shot of Emily with her nose buried in a book. Her hair was a mess, falling over her shoulders in a haphazard manner. But her eyes, they were so intensely focused on the book, I couldn't help but snap a photo of that moment. She looked beautiful. She always did.

"That's my favorite picture of her," I finally said, standing next to Miley. I let my fingers trace the picture frame, letting out a small sigh. "She loves books. Anytime we got anywhere near civilization, Emily would hunt down an English-language book. Her biggest regret, she always said, was not learning Arabic soon enough to read the stories."

"Emily," Miley repeated, as if she was learning a new language, trying to feel the word in her mouth. "Her name was Emily." Miley replaced the photo on my shelf, satisfied enough to not ask me anymore questions. She looked down at my duffel bag, then back up to me. "That's it?"

I shrugged. "You spend two years in a desert, you learn to pack light." I shrugged once more. "I don't need much." Miley continued to stare at my bag, and I felt even the duffel bag contracting and becoming inadequate. "All right, princess, I'm sorry I don't need nine suitcases for all my costumes," I teased with a smile.

Miley smiled back, warming my heart in the process. "I bet you'd look reeeeal smart in one of my outfits, Detective."

I rolled my eyes and ushered Miley out the door. "I don't think so, Miss Montana. I think you're the only one of the two of us who looks good in sequins. And if you think otherwise, then you don't know me at all," I joked.

"Oh, don't worry," Miley said, turning around and walking backward toward my car. "I'll crack you open one way or the other, Truscott." With a wink she turned around, sliding into the car with ease and grace. I stood there, loading my duffel bag into the trunk, shifting it around the videotaping equipment we stored back there. For a moment, I just stood, trying to shake the shiver from my body. The way she said my name... Shaking the thoughts from my head I slammed the trunk closed, and went around to the driver's side. This time, we drove in a comfortable silence.