"No!"

Greed woke up groggily as Isolde started to thrash around in bed. She was having a nightmare. Greed picked her up and held her in his arms, but she started struggling more.

"Izzy!" Greed shook her gently. "Izzy, wake up!"

"No, let go!" she whimpered in her sleep, trying to escape Greed's arms. "Let me go! Please!"

"Isolde! Wake up!" she tried shaking her a little harder. He tapped her gently on the face, trying not to hurt her bruises. "Wake up, woman!" he barked sharply.

Isolde gasped loudly as she woke up, but once she realised where she was, she just collapsed into Greed's chest sobbing softly, but no tears fell.

"Sorry I woke you," she mumbled as Greed collected her into his lap.

"Don't worry about it, doll," he replied, holding her close, tucking her head under his chin. He wasn't getting a lot of sleep with her in such close proximity anyways; his body wanted to do something about the fact that there was a warm, female body pressed up against him.

"How did you do it?" she asked after a few moments silence.

"Do what?" Greed asked warily.

"Turn into that thing you did in the abattoir," she explained turning to look him in the face. Greed sighed, then explained what he was and how he came to be. He told her about his Ouroborous tattoo, his 'family' and all their strange abilities, omitting nothing.

"Hm," Isolde said finally.

"'Hm'?" Greed asked, somewhat surprised. "That's all you have to say is 'hm'?"

"Well, what else is there to say?" Isolde replied. "You've told me everything."

"And you're not scared?"

"Why would I be?" she asked. "Freaky powers or no, you're still the same old Greed to me."

"You're a very easygoing little thing, aren't you?" Greed laughed to himself.

"If I thought you were any threat to me, I wouldn't have come in here," Isolde said simply. "I'd have curled up in the hallway with Doro for company."

Greed involuntarily flinched and squeezed Isolde a little tighter at her last statement. Mine! Was the fleeting thought that flashed through his brain at the thought of her cuddled up with Dorochet.

"Ow!" Isolde protested mildly.

"Oops," Greed loosened his grip slightly.

"Its not you," Isolde replied. "I think the morphine is starting to wear off…"

"Wait here," Greed said, putting her back on the bed and walking out of the room. When he came back holding a measure of morphine, Isolde had fallen asleep again, her nightie was tangled up around her thighs. He tried to keep his eyes on her arm as he gently administered the analgesic, then quickly tugged her nightie back down around her calves and stalked into his bathroom.

He raked his hands through his hair. Damn, but he wanted that girl! She was so damned sexy, even battered, cut up and bruised as she was! And she was spread out on his bed and he couldn't do anything about it. Just the thought of having to lie down beside her was enough to get his pulse racing, let alone sleep in the same bed for the rest of the night!

He decided the best way to do this was to sort himself out there and then. He took himself in hand and started thinking about the curve of her hips, her pert round ass, the way her cleavage looked in that deep-necked grey-blue dress he bought her, her long legs, the curve of her lips…

Then he all of a sudden started thinking about the way she laughed, how her hair smelled after she'd been in the sun, the way her eyes shone as she brought a tray of perfect cookies out of the oven, how cute she looked with a smear of flour across her face… Wait, that's not what he wanted to think about… Was it? He finished soon after, but was thoroughly confused. She was just another warm body to toy with, wasn't she?

No, she is not! came the traitorous voice in the back of his head.

Damn it, he cared about her. As much as he didn't even want to admit it to himself, he didn't just want to roll about with her; he wanted to hold her close, make sure she was safe and happy, and give her anything she asked of him.

What's wrong with me? He asked his reflection as he washed his face, trying to clear his head. Kimbley's words from earlier snaked into the front of his mind.

"Anybody would think you were in love with the little waif…"

Was he?

No, I am not! he affirmed to himself.

Yes, you are, the voice in his head retorted smugly.

He dry-washed his face as he walked back into his room. He'd figure it out in the morning. For now he just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. He slid under the covers, pulling them up around Isolde as well. Then he pulled her in close so she was tucked into the curve of his body, his nose buried in her hair, and arm draped around her waist.

"Hmm," Isolde murmured contently in her sleep as Greed spooned her. Greed wished she wouldn't, he was still confused. Did he love her? Was a homunculus capable of loving a human? Did she love him?

"I think I want to love you, Little Izzy Ragdoll," he murmured into her hair as his brain started to figure itself out. "I think I want you to love me back."

Isolde started singing, as she did in her sleep every night. Greed loved to hear her sing. He'd sneak into her room to listen to her whenever he noticed it. The song she sang tonight didn't help with his confused state of mind, but deep down he felt it was very fitting, and he hoped it was true on her part.

"I want you to want me,

I need you to need me,

I'd love you to love me,

I'm begging you to beg me,

I want you to want me,

I need you to need me,

I'd love you to love me,

I'll shine up the old brown shoes, put on a brand new shirt,

I'll get home early from work if you say you love me.

Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?

Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?

Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dying,

Oh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you crying?"