Rose –

I'm not sure how it happened, but I am laughing. It's not a polite chuckle, it's not meant to be insulting, it's genuine and warm. It's a foreign feeling, but it's a good one. I let myself have this one small moment of normalcy, I let myself be a teenage girl – because that's what I am – technically. My laughter fades, and I find myself staring at Vasilisa. Her cheeks are flushed, her pale blonde hair sticks up in strange places, and her beige tunic dress is rumpled. Despite all of this, she is still beautiful. She looks like an angel, albeit one who just woke up from a nap.

Vasilisa is an enigma. One moment, I am throwing her up against the wall, the next I am crying for her outside of my door, and now I'm laughing with her. I have experienced more emotion in the past 24 hours than I have felt all year. It's unnerving, and the fact that I'm even willing to admit that I find something, or in this case someone, unnerving tells me that I'm letting myself get distracted. I hadn't been prepared for the paradox that is Vasilisa – on the outside she seems delicate and innocent, but on the inside she is intelligent and fierce, she's strong too, even if she doesn't know it yet.

I've always known that people laugh, that they cry, and that they get scared. Those are all basic human emotions, ones I knew I was capable of feeling – ones I had been prepared for. Nothing could have prepared me for Dimitri, or the way I felt when he looked at me. Someone should have told me that some boys have the power to make your heart beat so rapidly, you're worried you've gone into cardiac arrest, or that they can turn your kneecaps into jelly with a smile. That would have been useful information, and maybe I wouldn't feel like such an idiot right now. The closest I've ever come to discussing romantic feelings is when my roommate told me that one of our classmates had given her "butterflies."

I told her we weren't allowed to have pets.

She eventually explained to me that she was just using a metaphor, that it was a way to describe the feeling you get in your stomach when you like some one. I had dismissed her, but now I think she may have been onto something. Only, when Dimitri had held my hands, it had felt more like an angry mob of wasps, not butterflies.

I'm getting attached. I'm not here to make friends, and I'm certainly not here to fall in love with a civilian.

"You should head back to your unit," I tell Vasilisa, a little more sternly than I had meant to.

She rises to leave, but smiles at me before she closes the door behind her.

I wait ten minutes before I follow her out of the room, using the time to pull on my boots and to arm myself with a few easily concealed knives. Old habits die hard I guess. As I make my way across the compound, I decide to make a mental list of everything I still need to accomplish. I've already reported Cal to the compound's local authority, but they weren't too pleased. They've insisted that I recommend someone to replace him, and I wonder if Vasilisa would be up to the challenge. I also need to figure out what Victor wants from me in return for information on my parents. I had almost forgotten why I had come here in the first place.

I come to a crossroads, one path will lead me to the housing units – to Vasilisa and Victor. I know that's where I should go, but even as I tell myself this, my legs carry me off in the other direction – toward the gates. For the second day in a row, I find myself leaning against the stone walls of the compound. The guards no longer seem phased by my presence and are content to just ignore me, or maybe they just don't recognize me outside of my uniform. I look down at my wrist and see that it is bare, I curse myself for leaving my watch back at the embassy. How am I supposed to know what time it is?

A bell rings out just then, making me think that the universe must have a strange sense of humor. On cue, the gates begin to creak open and the field hands start to trickle in a few minutes later. My palms are sweaty with anticipation, I glance down at them in disgust and wipe them off on my pants. I'm being ridiculous, I know, but I still find myself scanning the crowd of men as they pass through the portcullis, my eyes darting from face to face, searching for him.

When I finally do spot Dimitri, I see that he isn't alone. There's a boy with him. He has messy, dark brown hair and a face that looks like it was painstakingly carved out of the finest marble. I wait until they've passed my hiding place in the shadows before following them. I can't make out what they're discussing, but whatever it is, the boy finds it terribly amusing. He turns around to glance at me, and to my utter astonishment, he smiles at me. The face that I would have initially described as angelic, now makes him seem like he is constantly up to no good.

"Speak of the devil," he practically shouts.

I let my face go blank, I have perfected this emotionless mask over time, and I know that when I wear it, my feelings become unreadable. Dimitri looks at the boy, who is still grinning at me.

"It's your investigator friend," he says to Dimitri. "My god, she's even more attractive up close."

Dimitri stops in his tracks, and then he too turns to look at me. I want to smile at him, but I know I can't. I stride toward them purposefully, suddenly wishing I had my uniform on. The belt is like a shield, I never have to worry about not being taken seriously.

"Dimitri," I say, using my investigator's tone.

His dark eyes betray nothing, he's not happy to see me, but he's not necessarily upset about it either. His face is as neutral as my own,

"Yes?" He asks me icily.

I narrow my eyes, "We need to continue our talk from earlier."

The boy answers for Dimitri, "A talk? That sounds kinky, perhaps I could tag along. Or maybe you and I could have a little talk of our own." He reaches out a hand, like maybe he intends to stroke my cheek.

He doesn't get very far. Faster than he probably thought possible, I strike out and take his wrist in one of my bandaged hands. With a quick twist and a little bit of maneuvering on my part, I am able to secure his arm behind his back. I hold it at an awkward angle, and with a little bit of pressure, I could dislocate his shoulder if I wanted to.

He gasps in pain. "This isn't quite what I had in mind," he tells me through gritted teeth. "Dimitri, don't just stand there, help me!"

I peer over at him from behind the boy. Dimitri is displaying none of the animosity that he did when it was Vasilisa who had been in danger. If I didn't know any better, I would say he was slightly amused.

"Adrian, I don't think anything can help you at this point," he tells the boy dryly. "You should know better than to hit on a soldier."

"Adrian is it?" I ask the boy who has gone quite still. "That's a pretty name."

He tries to shrug. "A pretty name for a pretty face."

I ignore him and pull up slightly on his arm. "Don't do that again."

He winces and then brings up his free arm up in a mock salute, "Yes mam!"

I let him go, pushing him forward slightly as I do. "Now go home before I decide to arrest you."

He pales slightly, some of his confidence slipping away at my threat. "I'll see you later," he says to Dimitri before walking away. We watch him go, rubbing his shoulder as he does.

"Was that really necessary?" Dimitri asks me, the corners of his mouth twitching as he does.

"No, but it was fun."

He shakes his head at me, a few strands of hair falling forward to frame his face as he does. "What is it that you need to talk to me about? Is Lissa okay?"

My heart sinks a little, his first words to me have either been hostile, or about her. "She's fine, I sent her home. I'm headed there now actually, I thought you would probably want to be there when I talked to Victor."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, "That's…considerate of you."

"Not really," I say as I start walking toward the housing units. "Even if I didn't invite you to come along, Vasilisa would have. Or you would have found out on your own and probably attacked me, and I'm not in the mood to knock you on your ass again. Especially after you patched me up this morning."

I shouldn't have been surprised when my words didn't illicit any kind of reaction from him, he just continues to walks next to me in silence.

"Can I ask you something?" He finally says.

My heart flutters, and he hasn't even asked me his question. "It depends."

"On?"

"On the question."

I glance over at him from the corner of my eye, and I see that he is openly studying me.

"Who are they? Ibrahim and Janine?"

I try not to flinch, but his words catch me off guard. I knew he and Vasilisa had overheard most of my conversation with Victor, but none of them had actually thought to ask me who the people I was risking my career and my life for were.

"Isn't it obvious?" I ask, a lump rising in my throat as I do.

"What do you mean?"

I force the lump down, swallowing hard. "They're my parents."

Dimitri doesn't say anything for a long time, but when he does, he manages to catch me off guard again. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I don't know where my parents are either," he says, his voice sounding far away.

"Isn't it strange that we apologize for another person's grief, when what we really mean is that we understand it?"

"I never thought about it like that."

"We're not supposed to think," I tell him bleakly.

We've reached the housing units when he stops to look at me, "I need to change."

"That's fine, I'll meet you in Victor's unit," I say turning away from him.

A hand on my shoulder stops me. "No, The neighbors are watching." He gestures over his shoulder and I see that he's right. "It will look suspicious if you're seen with Vasilisa or Victor too often."

I frown at his logic, I'm an investigator and that basically means I'm allowed to do whatever I want, regardless of how suspicious it might seem to civilians. Just my presence is suspicious, but I decide not to remind him. I might not fully understand my feelings for Dimitri, but I do understand changing, shirtless men.

"Smart," I tell him, following him into his unit.

I am soon disappointed when he tells me to wait in the entryway while he goes upstairs to change. He comes down the stairs a few moments later wearing a cleaner version of the same outfit he had been wearing earlier: dark pants and a white collared shirt, complete with suspenders and heavy working boots.

"This way," he tells me, pulling me out of my thoughts of what he might look like beneath the threads of his clothing.

I follow him down the hallway that leads past the stairs, it's identical to the one in Vasilisa's unit.

He reaches a hand out toward me, and I stare at it, a little confused. "What?"

"Uh," he says, pulling back his hand to run it through his hair. "I was going to help you down the hallway, it can be treacherous."

"Oh, sorry...I'm just not used to people wanting to help me," I regret my words even as I say them. They make me sound weak and pathetic, like I want his sympathy, when all I really want is his trust.

He just nods and gestures for me to head down the passageway. I curse myself silently as I do. Eventually I come to a dead end, and then he is standing behind me. My pack is pressed against his chest and I find that I don't remember how to breathe, and I'm about ten seconds away from forgetting how to stand. I am aware of every inch of him, and even though there are two layers of clothing separating our skin, mine burns. He reaches past me and scratches lightly on the wall in front of us.

A few moments later, the wall slides open to reveal Vasilisa. Her green eyes widen in surprise as she takes in the two of us standing together in the narrow hallway. She doesn't say anything, instead she steps to one side, letting us pass by her. The passageway emerges into the kitchen, and it doesn't take me long to notice Victor. He is bent over a bowl of half-eaten food, but he raises his head at the sound of our footsteps.

"I was wondering when I would be seeing you again," he says, his voice sounding more tired than it had the night before. "Please, sit, we have much to discuss."

I glance over at Dimitri and Vasilisa who are convening together quietly in the far corner of the room. I sit down at the rickety table across from Victor.

"So," he starts. "I've given a great deal of thought as to what you could do for me."

I sit up straighter, throwing my shoulders back and raising my chin toward him. "That's all well and good, but before I do anything for you, I need to know that you'll give me what I want afterward."

He smiles, but there is no warmth, it's almost cruel. "I'm afraid the only thing I have to offer you is my word."

I cross my arms, "Tell me about them, tell me one thing, so I know that you're telling the truth."

"Ah," he says, bringing his hands together to rest under his chin. "You want to know about Ibrahim and Janine, am I correct?"

I nod stiffly.

"They're your parents, aren't they?"

I don't move, but he takes my silence as an affirmation.

"I knew Janine had been pregnant before the Pulse, but I never met the child. Yes, I knew her. She was an engineer, a brilliant one."

"I already knew that. Tell me something I don't know," my voice comes out in a low growl.

"Now, now," he chides. "I promise you that I know things that you don't."

"Like?"

"Like where you can find them."

My blood runs cold. "That's not possible."

"Oh, but it is," he tells, in a sweet, thick voice.

"No," I say gathering my composure and summoning the most neutral voice that I can. "They're dead."

"Is that what they told you? It seems that you have been lied to my dear girl."

"You're the one whose lying," I hiss.

"Is that what you think?" He asks, his eyes twinkling with secrets. "I don't think it is, I think you want to believe me. You wouldn't have come this far just to be told, again, that your parents are dead. No, a part of you hoped that they were alive, you needed something to cling to after all."

I want to lunge across the table and seize Victor by the throat, but a quick glance in Dimitri's direction tells me that he and Vasilisa probably wouldn't let me get very far. They are no longer standing on the far side of the kitchen, and from the looks on their faces I can tell that they've been hanging on our every word.

"Prove it," I finally say, my voice barely a whisper.

"I can't," he tells me. "But you can prove it to yourself."

"How?"

"The task I have in mind for you, it involves collecting some information. If you're successful in your endeavors, you will find all the proof that you need."

I slam my fist on the table, "Enough with the vague language, what do you want?"

"You came here under the pretenses of arresting me, because I am responsible for holding small gatherings where I teach subjects that are forbidden under NAAMA law," he says matter of factly. "I can't be the only one."

I scoff, "Obviously, I would be out of a job if that were true."

He ignores my tone. "There are places outside of the compounds, filled with people like me, filled with rebels."

"Those are rumors," I tell him, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

"Are they? Well, it doesn't really matter what you think. I'm willing to bet the information that would prove their existence one way or another, is stored in the same place as the information that would lead you to your parents."

"Fine," I say, drumming my fingers on the table. "But none of that information would be stored in this compound, or even at the academy. I would have to break into a government holding facility."

"Exactly."

I rise from the table, not wanting to hear any more of this old man's crazy schemes. "This is ridiculous, unless you're going to let me arrest you, I have no reason to step foot inside one of those facilities."

Victor watches me as I walk away. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

I don't bother saying goodbye as I slam the door behind me. I should have known better than to let the success of my mission hinge on some old man. I should have known better than to let myself see him and the people in his life as anything other than tools.

"Rose! Wait!"

I don't stop walking, I don't want Dimitri to see the hot angry tears that have pooled in my eyes. It doesn't take long for him to catch up to me though.

I spin around before he has a chance to say anything, "What do you want?" I ask, my voice trembling despite my resolve.

He says something, but he is breathless and I can't understand him.

"Spit it out," I demand.

He takes a deep breath and then fixes me with a look I can't read. "Arrest me."

I know some of you are wondering whether or not I'm going to post a chapter from Dimitri's POV, the answer is probably not. I want to tell his story through the eyes of Rose and Lissa, if I were to present his thoughts, it would give too much away. Part of Dimitri's allure for me in the original series was that I never knew what he was thinking unless he said it, he was a mystery.

I've also received a number of reviews about not liking Lissa. I'm not gonna lie, her character really bugged me in the series. I thought she was selfish and whiny, but I think that had a lot to do with her upbringing, I mean she was a princess. I also think a lot of us tend to overlook the fact that she was willing to bust the man who tortured her out of prison just so she could help out her friend.

In this story, I've stripped her of her title and her lineage, I've made her a commoner. The character I'm trying to write is still the one from the VA novels, but without the magic and the politics. I hope you guys can see that and will give the story a chance.