Things quieted down after that. Russel still got a little grumpy whenever I mentioned Roy but he kept it at annoyed frowns. I figured that was as good as it was going to get; one of the best and worst things about Rus is how protective he would get about people he cared about. I figured that since he was suppressing that instinct I could live with the occasional sulk.

As for Roy he didn't actually call until two weeks later. I was almost to the point of trying to track him down when he finally rang. It was disconcerting to hear him so uncertain and panicky. However much I hated his smug attitude when I was under his command, it was just... constant. It was always there, like how the sun would come up each day. It's strange, the things you come to miss.

We started meeting for lunch, a few walks through the city on weekends, things like that. I learned that he broke off all contact with his old team years ago; when I mentioned Havoc making colonel and how the sun was going to implode any second it was the first he'd heard of it.

He'd shut himself away in a house on the outside of town, a great deal nicer than my old shack but the mood of the building was the same. We didn't meet in his house partly because he didn't want me to see how he was living and partly because I felt I could make a concession to Russel since he made progress in the protective department. Roy and I would talk about what we could in public, used some code for the rest but for the most part we left those taboo topics alone. Homosexual relationships and attempted suicides are best left behind closed doors, after all. It was for the best, anyway; I think that given the opportunity Roy would have gone straight for the heavy topics and then wounded pride would be an issue and we never would have gotten anywhere after that.

...He was ireally/i screwed up. I don't know how much longer he would have lasted without help.

One of the main differences between our respective depressions is that I cut myself off from other people due to indifference and he did it out of pride. And I learned pretty quickly that pride was a lot harder to cut through than indifference. A couple weeks in I asked in passing if he wanted to have lunch with Havoc and me and his answer was a resounding 'no'.

I kicked myself later for not realizing how hard that would be for Roy, seeing his subordinate at the rank he lost. It's not as though he'd begrudge Havoc that or anything... but it would be hard. I could understand; sometimes I was jealous of Al and Fletch and the adventures they had traveling around.

However, even with all the roadblocks, the progress did come. Roy started eating better, stopped looking quite so worn. About two months in he actually smiled. Not the half-hearted fake smiles he'd been giving me but a ireal/i one. It was good to see actual proof that we were getting somewhere.

It kind of gave proof of something else too. Those flutters I'd feel when he was around... they were fading fast anyway, but when he genuinely smiled at me it really hit that I didn't feel anything for him anymore. There was the slightest flicker of something, but it was a flicker and nothing more. In those first weeks the trembling in my heart was just the memory of when I actually felt it. After two years of wondering I finally had the answer: I didn't love Roy anymore.

I didn't quite know how to take this revelation. When he came back into my life there was a big part of me hoping that Roy and I would get back together. He was actually attracted to men and he knew enough of my dark secrets that I didn't have to worry about how he'd react to the rest. But I guess it could never be that easy. I just didn't feel the spark I used to. I hated to admit it—it meant that the only romantic option even close to easy was closed—but we were over.

I really wanted to tell Russel this because I'm sure it would have taken the protectiveness down a few notches, but I didn't trust myself. If he got into what kind of guy I would like to be with... I was sure I would give something away. Besides, I reasoned that it would be good for him to get over this dumbness on his own. Even if I did still have feelings for Roy it wouldn't be any of his business. Well, sure, he could be concerned and a little protective of my emotions, given that he is my closest friend, but even then I could be trusted on my own for a bit. He acted as if he thought I would throw myself at Roy the second he asked or something. Even at my most depressed my pride would have held me back from acting without thinking like that, but Russel didn't seem to understand that.

Then again Russel might have just assumed that my logic centers would still be shorted out from dealing with him for an hour.

It was a day in late summer, just past the one year anniversary of our moving in together. The fact that he insisted on calling it our anniversary had me hiding the irritating blush for days. I had just gotten through that stint of hopeless daydreaming and was washing the supper dishes when he snuck up, hugged me from behind, and whispered, "Happy not-Birthday," in my ear.

Well that caused about fifteen kinds of heart-stopping panic.

"Wow, you're tense," he murmured, istill/iwrapped around me.

iI damn well wonder bwhy/b!/i I didn't shout.

Russel continued, oblivious to the terror he was causing, "It's a good thing my present is something that'll help you relax."

iYou can help by not giving me a heart attack why won't you let me bgo/b if you breathe in my ear again I swear I'm going to keel over,/iis about what I thought. "Oh?" is what I said. I don't know if it was a result of restraint or the fact that my brain was somewhat out of commission.

He finally, ifinally/i, let go and stepped away. And then of course I found myself wishing I was back in his arms and struggling with that feeling really wasn't helping my state of mind. If this present of his was supposed to help me relax then he sure as hell wasn't off to a good start.

I took a second to gather myself and then I turned around. Russel was beaming and I was almost tempted to hit him for the personal crisis he inadvertently caused. I was pulled from those dangerous thoughts when he held up a piece of paper.

"Why do you have a certificate from a physical therapy office?" I asked after reading it.

"Because," he replied smugly, "I am now certified in deep tissue massage for persons with auto-mail limbs."

That last bit was important since a regular masseuse wouldn't know how to work around the places where bone met metal, and hard pressure on those points could be very painful. Since he was my medical 'in case of emergency' Russel had long since memorized the configuration numbers for my connections so it wouldn't be hard for him to look up where the plates connected. He clearly planned and researched this well so that he wouldn't cause me pain.

Which was ivery bad/i because I couldn't claim his ignorance as a reason why he couldn't give me a massage.

Somewhere between the kitchen and the stairs my brain collapsed. I maintained the sense to take the lead so he wouldn't be able to see my face running through expressions of panic, longing, terror, and back to panic. Fried as I was I knew better than to even try to argue about the shirt; I shucked it off as I was passing the doorframe and then I was practically leaping at the bed so I could get my face in the pillows before he could see that anything was wrong.

He had to feel me flinch when he first touched my back, but he didn't say anything about it. What with my ongoing heart attack there was probably enough tension in those muscles to break his fingers, but he just went for it. He started out with light prods, which wasn't doing anything to help. He figured this out after a few minutes that seemed like eternity and abruptly switched to heavy pressure. After he ground his knuckles into the back of my neck a few times I stopped worrying about making a fool of myself because it felt iso good/i. Nothing sexual, thanks, just.... really nice. Like sitting down with a cup of chamomile after a long, stressful day, except that feeling wasireally/i intense.

I don't even know how long that first massage took but I was jelly by the time he got up and announced he was done. Somewhere in there Russel had even straddled my waist to get better leverage and I couldn't make myself get embarrassed and panicky about it. I was too relaxed to care about my stupid crush, or the deadlines at the lab, or Roy's still questionable mental state, or ianything/i.

"This is a very, very good present," I blissfully mumbled into the pillow.

Russel laughed. "I'm glad you like it. From now on you're getting one anytime I see you rubbing at your neck and wincing."

"Mmph?"

"Yeah you do."

I barely managed to turn my head so that he could actually hear me. "Thanks, Rus. You didn't have to-"

"You're always stressed out and I know you'd never let a stranger work on you. It was either get certified or watch you rip your muscles in half."

"You're..." a giant yawn, "probably right..."

Russel chuckled. "Why don't you sleep it off?" He ruffled my hair and I smiled. "I'll get the rest of the dishes."

"You do that..." I managed before I drifted off.