Good news for the thesis, bad news for the fiction. After two years of hard work to put together the research project that would be turn into my thesis, my first ethical demand was accepted on the very first check! No comebacks, no terrible question over what could go wrong. Recruitment will start for one of the many babies of my life. It means that my updating schedule will remain as unpredictable as it is. I guess it would be the same either way. Inspiration is quite changing and you have to catch it when it comes. But I work solely on this story and my many personal novels-in-the-making. All my other fiction projects will have to wait. Enough about me, for the following, I wrote this chapter with various ideas in mind. How cold and uncaring Bradley would turn in answer to the pain he's been through. It went another way. I'll let you find out. ;) Thanks for reviewing, sharing with friends, favoriting and following, but most of all, thanks for reading!

I chose you – Chapter 21 – Life goes on… with or without you

He'd never pushed himself in such condition. In his sleep, voices talked to him, whispering in his dreams that everything was over. This test had showed him what Amelia truly saw in him. How she would take advantage of weakness and go on to hurt him, just because she hurt more. She was gone, gone and there was no way he could face her after being… He shuddered even in his sleep.

Weak, Wrath. You were weak.

He'd never felt a pain as raw as the one he'd felt when she was holding onto him as if she was drowning. He had been drowning. His throat still felt tight and dry. His mind was a puzzle of mixed-up emotions, edgy feelings, dreadful thoughts and ache, so much ache. Heart in pieces. He remembering hearing stupid notions like those. He wanted to push it away, with the awful pictures, with the idea that Glutonny ate her father, that if she had shown in her house a few minutes earlier, she could have been slashed to pieces or eaten herself.

Her name was resonating in his mind. He tried to shove it away, to swallow it back. He needed sleep, true, healthy sleep, not those nightmares. He heard Lust whispering to him that Amelia had showed how human she was.

"She'll never be strong enough to follow you."

Who would be if it means going through that? He would have retorted if his voice worked.

But he was voiceless, a motionless being etched in pain and dark blood. A pulsating wound, seeping blood. Half a head, lying on the ground. A monster, a monster.

"She's not the right choice for you, brother."

"You were meant for much much more."

"You could have been perfect."

"You could have been like us."

"But you're weak. Like those stupid humans."

And he didn't wanted to be anymore, if it meant hurting like that. But the suffering had some kind of meaning, hadn't it? He was still breathing, still thinking. He wasn't entirely broken already, or was he? His legs kicked off the sheets from the bed as he jerked awake, breathing heavily, thuds of a beard on his cheeks, his arms flailing around him, tied to the bed by restraints that made him all the more anxious.

Control it, control the anger, the fear. Channel it. He tried to convince himself.

His mind was empty, without any soul left to tell him what to do. And he wondered what was left. Was it the original one, the spirit he'd been born with? Hadn't the scientist crushed it long ago? Or was it still him. Who the heck was he? How do you define a man-made monster, contradicting everything the natural science thought him?

12. Wrath. King. Bradley. Military dog. Youngest brother to a bunch of abominations. Son to a cupid Father that was far from fatherly or anything close to it. Brad. Messed-up wannabe lover that couldn't achieve a courtship without getting his in-laws killed. And he was still tied up while a beast was howling in his heart and Amelia was nowhere in sight but the memories where fresh, fresh and vivid and deep and…

He blinked, trying to collect his thoughts. Breathe in, Brad, breathe. The room was small, merely made for efficiency. A bowl of water was sitting on the table next to him. There was no window, the only light came from the lone bulb on the ceiling. Oh military lab. He remembered the dormitory. The brain rotten comrades. Gold tooth. And he was still tied up, like he had been on the day they injected him the stone. His left arm was healed up. His right feet didn't hurt. He didn't feel any pullback in his muscles. He was back in shape. Someone might have use a philosopher stone on him. He knew what they were made off. He knew Amelia might become part of it one day. She might already be. What use was she to them?

All at once, his entire being missed her, forgiving the hurt, the harsh glares she'd given him, the painful gestures she'd had against him. He just wanted something to be right in his mockery of a life. Breathe, don't think about her, don't try to mimic the souls that you lost, they weren't a part of you, King, they…

But they'd been. And it felt lonely, having no voice to comfort him, to cheer or berate him. Knowing that if he tried going to Amelia, she might turn him back. She might even try worse. Or give him the silent shoulder. His throat constricted and all his childhood's fears popped back, one by one, the dark room feeling too empty, the ties on his arms and ankles burning into his muscles as he tried to get himself up. He wouldn't call on anyone. There was no voice in his dry throat. Like in those nightmares where you can barely move, where you try to call for help, to yell out your fear because it can only make it less scary, but the whisper coming out from your lips sounds like a gasp of wind.

If they inject me another stone, I'll die and it will have mean nothing at all.

Despair was so beneath him. But he had fallen. He wasn't broken yet, but he wasn't too far from it.

How long had he been sleeping here? How does one sleep while tied up like that? He needed to curl on himself, to punch something, someone, to feel physical pain instead of all this anxiety.

If I die, she will have lost her parents for nothing.

That with the hunger, thirst and utter confusion he felt were enough to send him in a panic. He threw the bed down, pulling on the restraints like a wild beast, madly trying to free himself. His muscles had thinned. He had been sleeping for more than a few days. The recovery had taken some kind of toll on him. But his nerves and bones would have to be enough to get himself out of there. Grumman showed up, looking the worse for wear, with a flock of nurses that had nothing to do with the scientists from his childhood.

"King, come on, don't react like that."

"Untie… me." He managed to bark back as Grumman worked on keeping him down while the nurses prepared an injection.

"We're doing this for your own good!" his friend told him.

"No… inject…"

As the syringe seemed ready, he panicked even more, managing to pull off a restraint from one of his leg, almost twisting his ankle as he did. Grumman crushed him down, using his weight to immobilize him, which was only half working.

"Give us space girls. No tranquilizers." The blond soldier gasped.

That seemed to reach King and he quieted down immediately, which in turn got the nurses to obey Eli's orders.

"Help me, ladies. Let's untie him and get his bed straight."

King refused to get back on the bed, so they let him sat on the floor and gave him a glass of water that he was cautioned to drink slowly. He listened, feeling weak after his little crisis. A few nurses got out of the room while Grumman sat next to the patient, waiting for him to regain his voice.

"You've scared us a great deal, buddy."

"How long have I been here?"

"Two weeks. You made some miraculous recovery from the wounds you had when you were rescued by the villagers. Central dispatched help for you in no time and you were back in less than a day. Someone from my unit discovered the tunnel Aerugo dug under our lines. We have no idea how they managed it. They're still filling it back up. You pulled a miracle out there."

"What about…"

King looked down to his hands, his gruff voice unable to voice her name. He knew it would break in his throat and he was over emotional breakdown.

"Amelia's fine. They brought her back, put their best medical alchemists on her or something. She's fully recovered and has been sent back to her aunt. I heard she got back to work a week ago. Members from both our squads visit her and she's welcoming and kind, as she's always been. She's one strong woman, your girl."

Wrath's face turned whiter than the sheets on the bed and he laughed, in a heartbroken way. Hated himself for it, but it couldn't be any other way.

"My girl, huh? I bet you're wrong on that, Eli. But I don't…"

He saw the grief and the sympathy in his friend's eyes. And something else, like pure empathy for what was happening to him.

"Let's not dwell on that. What about… the war?"

"Oh, it's not over. We might be sent back if they think we're ready. I asked a permission to be back here when I…"

It was Eli's turned to turn pale and King let his mind run wild. What could possibly hurt a grown man like Grumman? Juliett was doing fine, so was her son. His ex-wife was the last of his concerns. Last he'd heard, Anna-Elisabeth had given birth to a beautiful blond girl and… King remembered what he'd thought last time. That Liz was too small, too frail for that burden.

"It's not…"

How he could still feel compassion when he felt so broken inside, Bradley couldn't tell. If it had been anyone else to greet him as he woke, Lust, Envy, he would have turn into the monster Amelia thought she saw when she gazed at his tattooed eye. But Eli was the first man who had been kind to him when he had no idea how to fit in this human society the scientists hadn't prepared him for. He knew the man trusted him. And even though he knew Grumman would never understand him entirely, he also trusted him far more than he did all the other soldiers. He had been his lieutenant for years. Brothers in their mission to look over Juliett. Messing around each other, being playful, King accepting to act childishly since he never had a chance to before.

"You hungry, man?"

Eli didn't want to bring his friend down.

"There's only two reason a soldier go back home while the war is still on. Being crippled or death in the family. You seem to be doing alright in the health department." Though now that he looked at him, King saw dark bags under his eyes. "It's obviously not your ex, you didn't remarry and…"

King was answered by a long sigh.

"If we talk about this, I need a strong drink. And you need something in your stomach."

Grumman helped him up and they went down to the military's cafeteria, which was quite empty at this hour of the day. King ate as slowly as possible, even though he was starving. He had been nurtured with alchemy and he was quite sure later his Father would tell him it had been a few philosopher's stones that had healed him up so quickly. Eli even accepted to share his rum with Brad after half the bottle was down and none of the story had come out.

"Did you smuggle alcohol in military quarters?"

"I might have. Not that there is many people around. They're all out on the fronts or in the hospital."

King gulped down his first sip and relished in the burning sensation in his throat. Dulling his senses sounded like the right thing to do right now. He'd get back to his quarters and sleep the stress off, before to check on Father and to go into some extensive training. But first things first.

"I think you've drank enough to tell me."

"You know you're pretty sharp for a guy who slept for two whole weeks?"

"As a blade. Now spill man."

It wasn't meant to sound harsh and Eli smiled sadly, before to report, trying to sound detached and to get it over quickly.

"Liz got sick. There were more complications than she let me know about the birth. She was losing blood every day for months. She died last week. I got back four days ago and when I heard about you, I tried to get a hold of your situation. I missed the funerals, but I visited her grave. Brought flowers, you know the stuff. I have three more days before going back on the front."

As Grumman motioned to take another sip, Bradley grabbed his glass and emptied it on the floor. Eli didn't show anger and the lone maid washing the table at the far corner of the dining hall let out a small gasp, before to resume her work after meeting King's glare.

"You had had enough. And you shouldn't go back. You're in no shape to order guys around."

"So I let you go back in my stead and get all the medals and glory? My baby girl's dead Brad. It means that I have nothing left but my rank and money. What good will it do if I…?!"

"I don't think I'm going back either. Not now. I need to train, you know, get back into shape."

Eli agreed, before to shake his head, seeming ready to blow up.

"The higher-ups were comprehensive, you know how the Fuhrer is about losing a kid. They were ready to keep me paid doing nothing for the next four months. But I can't stay here. The city makes me sick. Seeing those streets, the rocks where she scrapped her knees as a girl. The mansion where I took her for her first ball. Her schools, her favorite shops..."

King didn't know what to tell him. He wanted to yell at him to get himself in order. That this had been predictable enough and that if he'd been a little stricter with the girl, she'd been less foolish, or well, that her foolishness would have brought lesser results. But it was wrong. Eli was a loving and caring father. He hadn't much control on his daughter's life. Anne-Elisabeth had made her choice.

"Did you see her baby?"

He snapped at that:

"That cursed thing?! She's the whole reason my Lizzie's gone!"

That revived King's anger and he slammed both of his hands on the table, making the rum's bottle topple over. The glass shattering didn't seem enough, so he said, in a severe but calm voice:

"Lizzie's gone because she was too young for the baby, too young for gallivanting around with a good for nothing alchemist boy. You know it. You knew it when she told you. You tried to convince her to get rid of that cursed thing, but she refused. It was her decision. Her family. Your family. And now you're pushing what's left of it away because you're hurt."

Grumman looked infuriated. His eyes were wide, his lips twitched with anger and sorrow and he was clearly looking for a reply, something that would put Bradley back in his place. But somehow, the hollowness of King's cheek, the grey color of his skin, so far from the healthy, incredibly too strong and awkward guy he knew reminded him that King was hurting as much as him. His shoulders sagged and Wrath saw the tears threatening to fall down at the corners of his eyes. Eli was a good, honest and humorous guy. The type of human that would get on his nerves on a few occasions, but also the very type of humans that make them likeable to him. Seeing him in pain hurt. In a different way than what had happened with Amelia, but King realized he couldn't push them back. Because he felt close to them. He knew their pain. He understood them. He might be able to show them the way. And then he'd find his own way. What was the saying? A blind man guided by a blind man…?

"I really shouldn't be putting you down with this stuff. And you're buying me another bottle for that one you just broke."

"Sure, Eli. But I'll drink the first half."

"Then we'll go visit Liz. If you feel moody and dark, like your usual self."

The clumsy joke worked and for a moment, they thought they could get through this. Then King felt his eye aching and winced.

"Everything alright?" Grumman asked him.

"Yeah, just… ghost pain or something."

"How old are you already? Is it white hair I see on your temples?"

And it went bad from there.

"You're the old geezer here, colonel Grumman!"

"How dare you…!"

"You're a grandpa so I have a right to say it!"

"Then, I'll call you Bradboy. I bet you're still a virgin after all this time…"

King didn't control himself enough to refrain his blush and Grumman cried in victory: "Ha!"

"I'm gonna start my training on your face!"

"Would you threaten a superior officer?"

"Superior my ass!"

The young maid was shocked to see the famous colonel Grumman running like a little kid, pursued by a half joking half serious King Bradley, who was twice a hero in the eyes of Central's people.

…

The next morning, King was training in the courtyard, running laps as if his life depended on it, which was true in his mind. He was convinced that if he had been stronger and faster, he could have save Amelia's parents. Or at least prevent himself for getting hurt by the other homunculi and thus not find himself in Amelia's village which would mean that he wouldn't have been obliged to save her parents. Or to be a threat to the village by being there. He ran over the whole training course, spared with invisible partners, cut down trees and abandoned houses before to run more laps and do more squats. His personal infirmary was following him around, trying to convince him to slow down a little and forcing him to drink enough water to stay hydrated.

"You're pushing yourself."

"Only a train wreck could stop him in this state and I doubt he would stop at all," a sultry voice observed.

King turned to the newcomer when he heard her nurse bid him goodbye and walk away. He was half naked in the courtyard, his lungs burning, his whole body aching from the strain, but still ready to train more. Lust was standing there, wearing her own nurse's uniform, her hair tied in a bun behind her head. She looked annoyed and Wrath smiled to his only sister.

"What is it? Dad missed me while I was gone?"

She pinched her nose, her eyes turning into slits.

"Actually, he kinda does. Would you be so kind to take a shower and get down to meet him ASAP?"

"What's with the would-you-be-so-kind treatment?"

"You stink and there's not much aeration down. I'm the one washing things up this week so I'd rather not have your smell there."

"I see. I'm not going to be slashed to pieces or sentenced to die in a pit of acid or something?"

She looked around them, wrapping her arms around herself, looking unsure and nervous for one of the first time since he'd met her.

"Could you try to sound a little more normal?"

"I've been in a delirious sleep for the last two weeks. Of course I don't sound normal. Relax, sis."

She frowned, her lips pinched in a thin line.

"You are not calling me that."

"So I guess you have nothing to do with what happened two weeks ago?" he asked, walking up to her, a sword in each hand, looking incredibly menacing despite his calm air. Or maybe was it because he looked so calm that Lust took one step back.

"Control your emotions, pretty nurse. I didn't know you could get flustered so easily. Unless you feel guilty about something? Did Father gave you one of his speech? Or a good spanking for acting out of turn? I have the impression things got a little overboard with our family."

She slapped him in the face, holding her composure, except for her furrowed brows and angry glare. King didn't flinch, giving her a smile from under his moustache. He looked like a shark in front of his prey and the glint in his eye was a scary promise of what could happen to her if he decided to act out of turn.

"I like it when you try to intimidate me, you're turning into a big boy."

That would have worked a few months earlier and make him believe he'd walked right into her hands. He just took the compliment and motioned for her to lead the way. He knew she had expected him to be beaten, fragile and full of doubt. But he wasn't. And he wasn't losing any time on his training schedule with stupid showers. Father wanted to see him, fine. It'd better be quick.

…

Bradley was in for a surprise. Father had gathered everyone, except Sloth, who was working, again. And for once, Envy didn't look like he wanted to be there, neither did Lust and Gluttony was clutching to her hand like a lost little boy.

Lurking in the shadows, Pride was looking with a few of his eyes.

"I heard you ran a new test for your brother Wrath, my children. And I must say that I'm highly dissatisfied with your conduct. Wrath must become Fuhrer. Being crippled, which would be tremendously difficult for him, would mean starting over. There's a limit to the kind of damage an average human can withstand and recover from without getting unwanted attention."

Wrath felt a mix of anger and happiness that seemed dangerous and he tried to fuel his calm on the anger, so that no cocky smile would appear on his face. His brothers and sister were getting reproaches. He was expecting some too, but this was almost too good to be true. The blond monster looked to him, his anger turning into something else.

"You've played your part, protecting the humans and got yourself medals and fame, which is good. You also killed every enemy soldiers, even though that almost killed you. I had to give up a precious part of my blood to get you back in shape."

"And I'm grateful," he humbly retorted.

Not too quickly so that it wouldn't sound prepared. Not too slowly, so that it wouldn't seem like a lie. Father's eyes flashed with recognition and Pride shied away, angry to see Wrath getting on the good side of their Father. Envy was definitely envious and Glutonny still looked scared. Lust stood with dignity, taking it in. Once more, Wrath thought that his sister had more class than all the other put together.

"Why aren't you all like Wrath? Obedient and capable of working as a team."

"This is all a misunderstand…"

"I didn't give you permission to speak Envy! You were created to obey my will, all of you. You know what I do to those who disappoint me. You can play around with humans to a certain point. But not with this one." He added, pointing King.

Acid was fuming somewhere in the dark, Brad could smell it. He waited while Father let a discomforting silence settling over them. He waited until Pride had bowed to Father, until Gluttony had sit down and Lust was sitting on the fool's shoulder. He waited until Envy seem to shrink over himself, before to nod that it was understood. Then and only then, King cleared his throat to get Father's attention. The others stood, in different state of shock.

"I've heard you healed the woman who was with me at the time of the attack."

Father looked slightly annoyed.

"Your country girl, right?"

"Why? I thought you despised her."

"I thought it would make a good story in the papers if you saved her without too many casualties. And it did."

As simple as that. Father did like reading papers while knowing he'd controlled some part of the news. Bradley wanted to ask more, but it felt wrong with the other homunculi listening. And could he claim her when he had no idea if she would take him back?

"Anything else, Wrath?"

"As the Fuhrer's wife, she'd be more useful to our plan alive than dead."

"Really?"

"Perfect for keeping the illusion of my humanity to the world."

"If you think so. You seem to have sound judgment. You'll need it to recruit the people from the army that will share our secrets."

Wrath acquiesced and walked out before that Father dismissed him. He went back to his training, punching dummies till his knuckles were bleeding so that he could collapse in his bed without reliving the horrific nightmares. When he woke up screaming in the middle of the night, he decided to fish out the few letters he had from Amelia. Half way through them, he read the biggest lie he'd told her. About making this country a better one. Justice and…

Why not make it real? Father was on his side. Amelia could be his. That would wait until he felt strong enough to face her. But he had fame and fortune would follow when the ranks would open to him. Already, on the training ground and within the army quarters, people knew his name and looked up to him. The members from his squad were impatient to have him back on the frontlines with them. A week of training later, he rushed to Aerugo with the first train and ended the war in a blood bath that gave him all the revenge and place he needed to let out his anger about what had happened. And he started talking more to his fellow soldiers, even if they weren't Eli Grumman. He knew all of their names already, but he shared stories, drinks and laughs with them. Tasted watermelon and discovered that falling in love with food was possible.

By the end of the war, Bradley's squad was known as the best of Central's army. He'd selected his men and women himself, among the ones he had trained years back. The guy who'd gotten in his way was alive and he saved him three time, to make up for Amelia's parents who had been killed. He still despised most of them, but not for the same reason. They were weak, sometimes stupid, but they were his men. They had his back and he would bring most of them back home. All if possible. Soon, he realized that they would gladly die for him, because they thought he'd do the same. He let them believe it. The nightmares got less traumatic and more emotional. He wouldn't wake up screaming, but sleeping was keeping him on edge because he kept on seeing the same woman over and over again.

Amelia Corsaire.

He missed her. When the other guys or girls would talk of their beloved or family, they'd know King was thinking about a certain country girl. Some suggested that he wrote to her, but he couldn't. What he needed to ask her couldn't be written on paper. She wouldn't answer unless he was standing right in front of her. A few women tried to flirt with him, because he was quite a catch and had a bright future in the army. Some wanted comfort from his strong arms, other simply wished to forget. He gently pushed them away. No warmth could feel the same as hers. No eyes, no matter how close the green of her own, no hands, no smile. He had made a choice at some point after meeting her. It wasn't some kind of weird duckling instinct to focus on the first thing he'd associated with a woman or a mother or…

Heck, he would never tell anyone else about his secret. He missed her and the last picture he had from her was a mix between the disheveled girl kissing him madly and the one with her shoulder bleeding and broken ankle who was trying to crush his bones in his flesh so that he would reveal what he knew about her parents' death. God, he missed her.

She might have moved on, but he doubted it. And he certainly hadn't.

…

Back in Central, the New Year had started and winter was cold and harsh. The streets were often covered in ice and nothing could remove it. Amelia had forbid her aunt from going out, because a fall could mean her demise, or a terrible cold that would end up being her demise too. The young woman was ferociously defending what she had left. She was a shadow of herself in most aspects, but her tentative smile was back. Her eyes had a dull glow, her hair were always kept in a tight and heavy bun on her head, making her look a little too strict. She was the only one running around the town to get herself groceries. And where she would go, people talked.

The fact she was King Bradley's fiancée was no longer a secret to anyone. The entire city knew about the attack on her village. They knew how a lone soldier had protected his beloved's home and did the impossible to keep her alive. Other girls were envious of her. Older women were sorry for her losses. The men wondered what she had so special. Some really bold people would stop her in the middle of the streets to ask her opinions over the changes with the war. Kids wanted to know if she had scars from the attack.

It was kinda overwhelming not to be able to be treated as anyone else. To have King forced into her face in the newspapers and his budding fans. She wanted to forget, but Central wouldn't let her. Was she still going to marry the man? When was the wedding going to be? He was a colonel now and one of the youngest the army had ever seen. That showed promise. But where was he?

She wouldn't answer to curious strangers. She accepted to make small talk to many of them. The hotel was bustling with activity and on the business side, things were looking up. But it also meant that King wouldn't be able to show up there and for them to have any privacy. And he was just a war hero. What would it be when he'd become Fuhrer?

…

King got down from the train and walked right into the muddy half melted snow. It was raining, for some twisted reason. He felt moody and brooding. The war was over, but he still missed her. Central was waiting for him and as he got back to the casern and changed into civil clothes, after a warm but short shower, he realized that he had been denying himself for too long. Being afraid was beneath a king. He had to face Amelia.

An hour later, dressed in his finest clothes and civilian's jacket, he was standing in front of the hotel. It felt so familiar and foreign. His feet had taken him there so many times. And it could be the last time.

Clearing his throat and gathering his courage, he walked in. Amelia's aunt was sitting behind the counter, updating her registry. There was a bustle of voices and shuffling feet upstairs. Many rooms were checked. He saw a bun of brown hair disappearing through the kitchen door. The woman of his dream was cooking, even if it was already late.

"What are you doing here?" his hostess asked, looking utterly pissed.

"I need to talk to her."

He was used to the glares the woman gave him by now. But if eyes could kill, no philosopher stone could have brought him back tonight.

"Sure you do. But there's nothing to explain."

"I won't let you decide that for her."

He spoke a little louder and a gasp could be heard from the kitchen. Amelia had recognized him. To his surprise, she didn't rush out to see him and throw stuff at him. She didn't rush out at all. A bell rang and Amelia's aunt left him standing in front of the counter, to join her niece in the kitchen.

Bradley had no intention of going there uninvited, especially since there were knifes and other pointy objects that could be used against him. He waited, until what sounded like a dispute could be heard and that a disheveled Amelia walked out of the kitchen, despite her aunt's reasoning.

"I think you would wait a year or two before you had the nerve to show up." She greeted him with a tired voice.

He winced. Oh that sounded bad.

"I… Just tell me if we're over."

She blinked, shocked by the desperation in his words, despite the fact he stood tall and straight, with his jaw firmly set, looking unscathed. His good eye barely flashed a hint of pain for an instant. And he still missed her.

"You want us to be over?" was all she could blurt out.

And that gave him hope, for better or for worse. She saw the change in his composure, the sudden light on his face and it took some of her fatigue away.

"Can we talk somewhere else?" Bradley suggested.

She considered their options, understanding he'd rather talk away from her aunt's ears.

"I'm too tired for a walk." She protested.

"We'll grab a cab, anything. I can take you out for a dinner, or…"

She smiled at his eagerness, while standing away from him, her body language making it clear she needed to keep her distances from him. There was something in her eyes, something harsh, like doubt, and that was new.

"It sounds lovely, King. I'll grab my coat, you call the cab."

A moment later, they were entering a cozy restaurant where the patrons could seat in private rooms to eat. Their table was in a round alcove, surrounded by cushioned seats that could welcome two sitters at a time. She sat on the same side of the table as him, so that their exchange wouldn't feel as confrontational. They waited until food was served and King made sure their waiter wouldn't come back before he was called, giving him some extra tip.

Banalities had been exchanged, about the easy subjects, like weather, their choice of dish for the night and the latest news in the paper, over a certain opera girl singing for the next two weeks in Central's main theatre. Amelia seemed stressed out and worried.

"Lots of work at the hotel?"

"We had to engage two other girls to get all the work down. They usually back me when I take my vacancies, but…"

He let the silence hang between them, not sure of where she wanted the conversation to go. He was ready to give her time if it was what she needed.

"King, please, let's stop this. You came to see me for a reason." She declared, putting her hands on the table.

He fully turned to her.

"I missed you, Amelia. For the last four months. I couldn't take it anymore."

"You could have write."

"Would you have written back?"

She sighed.

"I don't know."

"And do you have any idea what I could have write? How's the shoulder doing? Do you sleep well at night? Do you still have nightmares about it? Thousand time the word sorry to make sure you know how I feel?"

She frowned, closing her arms over her chest.

"How am I supposed to know how you feel when you leave me in the dark for months? I'm sick of that. And my shoulder is fine." She added, looking slightly annoyed.

"I heard they gave you medical treatment, the army and… They didn't hurt you, did they?"

She laughed, that angry, sick laugh she had when he said something crazy that pained her.

"How could they? After what happened, I don't think anything could get to me again."

"So you really hate me…"

She looked at him with disbelief written all over her face.

"You never believe what I tell you, do you?" Amelia asked him in a softer ton.

That gave him more hope and he wanted to be angry with himself for believing one second that she could... But then she killed what was left of his anger by adding:

"I said before that I could never hate you. I thought you weren't showing up because you hated me."

"What?!"

He was dumbfounded. How could she think…?

"Oh Brad, I'm sorry for what happened. For losing my mind and yelling and hurting you. It gets to me. Everything gets to me right now."

She turned to him, tears in her eyes and he felt compelled to ease her sadness.

"So you're not…"

"I still love you King. If I have to lose you too, I don't know what I'd do."

Words weren't enough to answer that. He could have worked against yells, sobs, anything. But this, this was undoing all the ice he'd poured around himself during the last weeks. He gathered her in his arms, a wave of relief running through his nerves.

"I've had nightmare you would say it was over. Again and again I re-enacted it in my mind like a masochist. I can never compensate what you lost, and I…"

"But you as I know you, you'll try. And I'm not asking for compensation."

"What is it you want?"

She gently pushed him back, her hands resting on his arms, her mind clearly filled with contradicting thoughts. He wanted to kiss any doubt away, but he angrily waited, like he'd learned to.

"I don't know. My parents to be alive. My brother to be alive. My aunt to be healthy. Your smile, your arms around me. Believing that life is simple without monsters lurking in the dark, threatening to hurt me just to get to you. Simple stuff, huh?"

His eyes were rounder than ever and she laughed at the look on his face before to blink her eyes, realizing…

"I almost forgot the one real answer to that question. I want to know if you still want me."

She blushed saying it, because blushing was not beyond her even after all she'd been through. To say King was overwhelmed at this point would be far beneath all the things he felt.

"You… You… By the gods, Melia, are you trying to mess with me?"

"I don't know what to do. I think I've hurt you enough the last time we saw each other. And I have nightmares. Not only about my parents. But about what I did to you…"

"It's…"

He wanted to tell her that it was fine. He genuinely wanted to apologize, because she seemed to forgive him, but the words got stuck in his throat. His nightmares had solely been about her and her rejection and the pain and how she'd hurt. About his guilt.

"I need to be honest with you, because you had the nerve to be honest with me. I can't say I won't hurt you like that again, because I can't forgive what happened. But I know it wasn't your fault. And I missed you too, despite the fact I didn't know what to think, even if I did all I could to forget you and…"

"Stop, just stop."

And his voice sounded just as weak as it'd been and she gasped at the memory, her fear showing in her face. He held her to him, holding back everything he could.

"You're so tensed, Brad."

"You're so thinner than you used to be." He replied, his voice filled with worry and care.

"Well, you could say that I have this on my side. I don't stress eat."

His chuckle was weak and she shed a few tears on his shirt. But she held him back.

"I want you with me, always. Always." He whispered in her ears.

"I think I want it too. But there's a condition."

He braced himself for the blow.

"We need to give ourselves time to recover from this. And when I'm back to being the girl I was, lying in the grass with you, when you're back to feeling entirely relaxed next to me, then we rush thing and get married and go on with a merry merry life."

"Merry merry?" he repeated.

It was like having her back already.

"What? Sounds too cheesy for you?"

"No, no, I… I love you, Amelia. I want you to be happy."

"I want us to be happy. But I think we should talk about your fame and get eating before the food gets cold!"

To be continued…

Amelia is almost back to herself, but it will take more than that for them to get where they used to be. This chapter handed up kinda long, but segmenting it felt wrong. The whole thing with Grumman at the beginning was the first step in following and straying from canon. As you know, Riza's mother died before that her father did. So I have a few more canonic to get down before that we move up in time. I don't think I want to fast forward anywhere. I really want to take 'em all the way to the end of their life. The wedding will happen in two or three chapters. More people will die among King's friends. I want to refrain from creating too many OCs, so Bradley is making new friends among his squad and within the army. Other colonels, older, looking out for him, but if not absolutely necessary, I won't name them. I wanted to include Haruko, but he's still too young to be anywhere close to King's rank. So it will have to wait. But don't worry. This fic doesn't end with the wedding! We'll have more Bradleys sweet time before that I dare say it's over for me to write in this story!