Sitting in the back of the cab opposite Marcus, 16 year old Anya thanked the temporary confidence of alcohol. Her head swarmed with the grains of TV static and her stomach felt like a ball of lead, but it was the first time since Mom died that the crippling tear of grief in her chest had sewn shut.

She wondered if Marcus felt the same, but there was no way of knowing. At 19 years old his face already seemed to hold a lifetime of pain. They say eyes are the window to the soul, but Marcus's icy blue stare was a mirror, as secretive as the rest of his body.

Anya may have been an officer, but she was also a teenager and, even if she appeared glaringly obvious, she couldn't help but stare at him. Every time she looked he was gazing out of the window, then as he turned to face her she would turn away, so that the two of them performed some strange dance ritual to sneak a look at each other.

This continued until at last they arrived outside the building of the apartment that Anya and her mom had shared. Marcus stepped out of the cab, walked round to Anya's side and opened her door, then offered her his hand. She took it, feeling the same nervous jitters that she had had when she had taken his arm after the meal.

Marcus slipped the driver something Anya couldn't see, but by the look on the cab driver's face, he had been a little more than generous. He wished them a good evening and drove off toward the blaze of the setting sun, home to his family who were still very much alive, and the biggest catastrophe of the day would be that it had rained when the forecast had called for clear skies.

Anya looked to the front door and gripped her mother's embry star in her jacket, a hunk of metal attached to some purple fabric that was supposed to somehow justify her death.

Hot tears pricked the corner of Anya's eyes. You idiot Mom. You knew what you were doing was stupid and you did it anyway. Weren't you thinking about me? Weren't you thinking at all?

She took a single step up to the door before she turned back to face Marcus, who had stood patiently on the edge of the curb with his hands knotted together, looking distinctly out of place in his COG dress uniform. Without his usual fabric do-rag, the wind gently ruffled his thick black hair.

"Do you want to come in?" Anya asked nervously, "for another drink or something?"

Marcus maintained his calm composure, but inside his chest his heart lept. He was a teenager too, even if he himself needed reminding of that.

"Sure," he said, and although his face didn't show so much as a twitch, Anya watched a smile glaze over his eyes, and all at once felt like an honored human being.

They climbed the stairs together and, once they had entered the lobby and climbed the remaining stairs, were met by a single red door. Anya fumbled for the spare key in her purse with no doubt that her Mom's was still in the locker Anya was due to clear out tomorrow.

A wave of sadness washed over Marcus as he watched a likely 16-year-old orphan search for the keys to her empty apartment. He was fortunate she was too preoccupied to notice him blink rapidly in composure. Anya finally unlocked the door and the two stepped in.

Anya flicked on the lights and, although she had prepared herself for silence, she wasn't prepared for how hollow the place felt. Like a carcass. Marcus sensed it too, and cleared his throat. He felt a little pang of guilt at the size of the apartment compared to Halladane Hall. Helena had been his commanding officer, yet when they were on leave she returned to this tiny little two-bed while he went back to a mansion. It wasn't right.

Anya remained motionless in the doorway. She wondered if her father had heard of her mother's death, that is, if he was still alive. Did he ever think about her? Did he even know she existed? Mom had been the only one to know, just one of the many secrets she had taken with her, and now Anya probably never would.

"I better just...get a couple of Mom's things together," Anya whispered dryly. She didn't think she would ever be able to throw anything away.

Marcus nodded with a slow blink. "Whatever you need to do. I'll get us a drink."

"I think there's wine in that cabinet," Anya said, pointing to the small kitchen units that were adjoined to their living room. Then she disappeared down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

Marcus managed to find a bottle of red amongst the tableware and fished two glasses out of the clear cabinet. When Anya returned a moment later she watched hesitantly from a distance as Marcus shared the wine between the glasses.

Even at 19 years old he stood tall amongst most people, but to Anya he towered over her. He was the first man to have entered their apartment and now Anya felt gravitated towards him. Her head was already saturated with unfamiliar alcohol, but she accepted the glass from him without hesitation.

She tottered on her heels to the balcony door and slid it open, allowing the cool evening air to ruffle the long drapes. Marcus followed her out and the two were met by a wall of buildings littered with illuminated windows. Below, the noise of steady flowing traffic could almost be mistaken for the hushing of the ocean.

Marcus leant on the balcony railing and sipped his wine whilst they both absorbed the scenery. The city was bathed in the burning amber glow of the setting sun that set grey concrete ablaze. Anya opened her mouth to speak, but Marcus took her by surprise by beginning the conversation.

"I'm sorry about your Mom," Marcus murmured, "I really am. If it makes you feel any better, I lost mine, too."

Anya took a while to bring herself to reply. "Thank you," she said, "Mom mentioned it, she said your Dad spoke to her. I'm sorry."

Marcus closed his eyes and took another long sip of wine. In a few years his face would be forever disfigured by a threatening scar that spread from his right eye right across to the division of his lips, but for now he was young and physically untouched by war, and it was this face Anya couldn't help but stare at. She had gotten so absorbed that she hadn't realised he was staring right back at her until he cleared his throat, causing a blush to creep across her cheeks.

"Marcus," Anya whispered, tracing the rim of her wine glass with her thumb, "I'm so, so sorry about what happened to Carlos. With Mom...I wasn't there, y'know, I didn't actually see it..."

Any trace of a smile that Marcus might have had disappeared instantly and his face became pale and grave. It didn't take a scientist to work out that a little piece of Marcus had died along with Carlos, but only Marcus knew the physical extent his death had had on him. He had had virtually no sleep since the battle of Aspho Fields, but when the only thing he could do to numb the pain was work, he was physically exhausted.

"Dom wasn't there to see it," Marcus said, blinking rapidly. "That's all that mattered."

The sun had lost its battle and had finally burnt out, and now the first few stars became visible in the darkened sky. Despite the earlier rain, only a few thin grey clouds sailed by, and Marcus watched them go. Their wine glasses sat on the balcony railing; Marcus's was empty, Anya's was draining fast.

All at once the floodgates opened, and the bitter wave of suppressed grief swirled through Anya's stomach and ripped through her chest.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do without Mom," Anya cried, drawing the back of her hand to her mouth as she began to sob, her eyes welling with tears.

Marcus's eyes widened in surprise, before his heart sank. Anya had put on such a brave face it was easy to forget she had just lost her only family member at the tender age of sixteen. Marcus couldn't believe how composed Anya had remained over the comms, continuing with her duty despite the fact she had just heard her mother die. Would it have been better to have seen it too? Marcus thought, but when that image of Carlos flashed again in his mind, he decided Anya was luckier than she thought.

Now the thinking was over, and Marcus took Anya into his arms without hesitation. He pressed Anya's warm body to his chest, and she wrapped her arms around him instinctively. When was the last time he had held a woman? Marcus knew it must have been his mother, but he couldn't recall their last embrace. And now he held Anya, her breasts pushed up against him, her body warm and alive, and a new heat surged through his body down to his tailbone.

Anya had buried her head into Marcus's chest and was inhaling the musky, intoxicating scent of his cologne whilst she breathed heavily to compose herself. She knew for certain that she had never been held by a man before in her life, and now she never wanted to be that deprived again. She felt Marcus's body soften at her embrace, the hands she once saw as large stone carvings now softly curving into the small of her back.

"It's okay," Marcus crooned, his deep voice rumbling through Anya's body, "you've got a lot of people who care for you. We're gonna look after you." He paused and slowly began to stroke her back, "I'm gonna look after you."

Anya wiped away her smeared makeup with her fingertips and raised her head to meet Marcus's gaze. Whereas darker eyes smoldered, Marcus' ice blue irises glistened and now Anya stared into them unashamedly. Now he was allowing her to look through those eyes and into his soul, where all at once she felt enveloped in raw emotions-pain and sadness and love. She couldn't say how long the two of them remained like that, only that the gaze was broken when her eyes involuntary flickered to his lips.

That was all it took for Marcus to close the distance and kiss her, he wasn't sober enough to be hesitant. Neither of them were prepared for the electricity that swarmed through their bodies at the warm touch of their lips. It felt completely natural for Anya to place a hand on Marcus's stubbled jaw as his lips parted further and he allowed her to further explore his mouth with her tongue. They both tasted of wine but, having never tasted another person before, they did not mind.

Now Marcus's heart pounded furiously against his ribcage as tiny shocks quivered up his body and a heat flooded downward. The hand on Anya's back tightened to pull her closer whilst he gently cupped her face with the other. Every 4am wake up call, every ache in his legs after running three hours straight, every deafening explosion and every drop of blood he had ever witnessed was all worth it for this moment, he decided. Anya's lips were tiny, soft, and warm and when she sighed inside his mouth, Marcus's body began to ache.

When they broke the kiss, both of them were breathing heavily, their lips gently brushing against each other. The thought of breaking that small distance to kiss again was tempting, but the night had drawn in around them fast. The wind had picked up and was now bitterly cold, and now Marcus could feel Anya's body quiver beneath his hands.

"Let's go inside," he murmured, and Anya nodded quickly in agreement. She reached down and held Marcus's hand and, since they were alone, he let her take it willingly. She led him back inside the apartment, their empty wine glasses still perched on the balcony outside.

Anya had barely closed the sliding glass doors before they were kissing again, both feeling the urgency to further explore this secret they had uncovered.

Without breaking the kiss Anya kicked off her heels, to which Marcus was thankful. He had worried that she would fall in those heels following her mother up the gridded ramps when he had first seen her and he had been worried ever since. Why they insisted on female officers wearing heels, he didn't know. All he knew was that right now he needed Anya more than anything else he had ever needed in his life.

They made their way to the couch where Marcus sat, pulling Anya onto his lap, and all at once the charge between them grew ecstatic. As Marcus's tongue dove into her mouth, Anya couldn't resist anymore and moaned softly. Her body was flushed with an unfamiliar heat, her thighs were clenching together beneath her dress. Marcus felt his crotch begin to pulse, and with Anya on his lap he grew in confidence.

The hand that was holding her cheek now trailed down her chest and softly touched the curve of her breast. Anya's lips broke from his with a gentle gasp and, before she could compose herself, Marcus began to gently squeeze.

"Is-Is this okay?" Marcus breathed, looking to Anya's face for any sign she may be uncomfortable. But uncomfortable she was not. Looking down at him with half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, her mouth gently parted and her blonde hair falling over her face, all she could do was nod.

Anya's heart was now thrumming and she began to feel light-headed. A fire began to burn in her chest, the embers flickering down to her stomach, and she never wanted this feeling to end. She grabbed Marcus's face with both hands and pulled his lips to hers again, pulling his bottom lip in her mouth as her confidence surged.

Marcus cupped the swell of Anya's breast with one hand whilst the other slid up beneath her dress to caress the inside of her thigh, and the two felt a desperation within them that they had never felt before.

When Anya once again moaned in his mouth, Marcus responded with a growl and swiftly stood up, lifting Anya off the ground and hitching her onto his hips, feeling her legs wrap around his body. He gripped her ass with both hands and carried her towards the bedrooms as Anya now became feverish, running her hands through the thick, black thorns of his hair.

When he reached the end of the hallway, Marcus pulled his lips away from Anya's to be faced by three closed doors.

"Which one?" Marcus asked, the depth of his voice vibrating Anya's chest. She opened her eyes and for a moment Marcus was lost in a swirl of green and gold, the melting of an evergreen forest tinged with sunlight.

"We can go in Mom's room," Anya said, gesturing towards the door to their right.

Marcus frowned, "You sure?" Marcus could understand Anya's need to feel close to her mother at this time, but something about this seemed a little too close.

"It's got a double bed," Anya said matter-of-factly, trying her best not to get emotional at a time like this. Her voice dropped to a whisper, "And it's not like she's coming back, Marcus."

The sadness began to creep into Marcus again but Anya tried her best to maintain the erotic fire between them, and she refueled it quickly. Marcus held her with one hand and opened the door with the other and the two entered Helena Stroud's bedroom.

Anya had already cleared away most of her mother's possessions, the open closet door revealing nothing but piles of boxes and an empty ribcage of coat hangers. Like the living room, the bedroom had a sliding door to the end of the balcony, the thin drapes illuminated in the moonlight. An empty nail above the queen-sized bed suggested a painting had been taken down and a bedside table held only an alarm clock and a lamp.

Marcus laid Anya on the bed and pulled her dress over her head in one swift movement. In the moonlight her skin was gorgeously smooth and milky and, as Marcus stood over her watching her body stretch in nothing but a white lace bra and panties, his body pumped with adrenaline and lust.

When Marcus dropped his jacket to the floor and pulled off his shirt, Anya unashamedly drew her eyes over his body. In the dark room the pale moonlight glazed over every single tight muscle, making him look like the chiseled statue of a God. Everything about Marcus should have been cold-his dark hair, piercing silver eyes and pale body-but Anya felt nothing but pleasurable warmth.

Then he loosened his belt and let his pants fall to the floor, and when her eyes found their way to his crotch, his body straining against his boxer shorts, Anya quickly looked away and a deep crimson blush flooded her cheeks.

She shifted the bedsheets down and around her and allowed Marcus' huge body to slip into the sheets with her. With his body pressed against hers, Anya absorbed his warmth and began to feel her pulse throbbing in her crotch. Marcus began to kiss her again, and now he was overwhelmed in the delicate scent of her skin, a smell which only furthered his primitive arousal.

Marcus's hands slipped behind her back and, despite his lack of practice, he managed to unhook her bra with ease. When Marcus pulled back to observe her bare breasts, Anya squirmed a little in embarrassment, but Marcus stared unashamedly in awe. Her breasts swelled to a handful size but were perfectly rounded, her smooth, milky skin tinted with rosebud pink areoles.

Marcus growled, lowered his head, and slipped one tiny, pink bud into his mouth. Anya's reaction was immediate, her back arched and her entire body seemed to lift from the bed as her eyes squeezed shut and a ragged gasp escaped her lips. Marcus's tongue slid delicately over her skin, the warmth of his mouth making tremors ripple from her breast through her body.

Feeling a sudden surge of bravery from the rush of endorphins, Anya gripped Marcus's boxer shorts with both hands and shifted them down his thighs. Everything felt so natural and easy to her and yet so terrifying at the same time and, when Marcus pulled himself from her chest to help her remove his shorts, she looked down and froze.

Marcus saw her face and knew immediately what she had spotted and, if that part of his brain had even existed, he would have felt a little smug too.

"Anya, are you okay?" He asked, the fog of alcohol and arousal beginning to clear in his mind. He was still leant back, allowing her space, but when she held his arms out for him, he quickly returned to her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Anya whispered, her voice a little uneven, "It's just...Marcus, I've never done this before." Anya looked back into the crystal of his eyes, uncertain of what would happen next.

Marcus stared right back. He took a while to speak. "It's okay," he whispered softly, cupping Anya's cheek and brushing her hair aside with his thumb, "neither have I." Almost immediately, Marcus felt Anya's body soften beneath him with relief.

"Do you want to do this?" Marcus asked, his face now tightening in concern, "if you don't want to, you can tell me."

Keeping her eyes interlocked with his, Anya nodded gently, her pale skin flushed a sweet pink that made her look so alive. Her hands slipped a little hesitantly down his body and a careful but firm squeeze of his member told him that although she was nervous, she was also ready. And God, he'd never been more ready for anything in his life.

The feeling was indescribable. Her hands were slender and soft, her touch causing him to throb painfully. Now he was overpowered with instinct, and when a low moan escaped his lips, Anya's grip tightened and his head felt lighter and lighter. He grabbed Anya's panties and pulled them down her legs.

As he threw them to the floor, he grabbed his pants and fished the black, leather wallet out of the pocket. He opened it, and when Anya saw him pull out a foil wrapper, she gently grasped his wrist. He stopped and turned to meet her gaze.

"It's okay," Anya whispered, her eyes diverting away, "I…I can't get pregnant. They don't know why, I just can't." Memories of the multiple cold and sterile trips to the hospital after her first period never came began to surface in Anya's mind, and she realized Marcus must have seen the look on her face.

"Okay," Marcus said, closing his wallet, and dropping it to the floor. It didn't feel appropriate to say sorry at the time, and yet he wondered how he would have reacted receiving that news at 16. He found it difficult to look ahead even one day, let alone to a time when he could have children. "It's okay, Anya."

He returned to her and she wrapped her arms around him eagerly. The mood had certainly not been dampened, in fact Marcus now felt a little closer to her than before. He kissed her lips, then positioned himself between her legs.

Now Anya could feel Marcus' member pressing against her arousal and her head began to spin. He pressed his face to hers, his eyes closed, both of them breathing heavily. Marcus hesitated, and then with one gentle thrust he was inside her, and the two of them gasped softly.

Marcus' eyes flickered open, looking for any indication of pain or discomfort in Anya's face, his body hot and impatient but his mind focused entirely on her. Her mouth was still agape in a gasp and her chest began to rise with sharper, quicker breaths, but when her eyes opened and met his, they said only one thing. What are you waiting for?

Now Marcus began to move, and though his thrusts were a little hesitant at first, Anya could already feel the waves of ecstasy rising over her body. A guttural moan escaped Marcus' lips as his body now rocked more confidently against hers, and now Anya wanted nothing more than for him to fill her over and over again.

Their lips met again, their kisses now feverish, deeper and bolder. With each kiss, Marcus grew braver, steadily increasing his speed, pushing himself deeper inside of her with each stroke. The inside of her body seemed to grip his erection with pulsing force that made him dizzy with pleasure, and she was wet. God, she was so wet.

Anya pulled her lips away and now she was moaning loudly and unashamedly. Marcus buried his face into her neck and continued his rhythm, her moaning only encouraging him further. He grabbed her thighs and hitched her legs higher, penetrating her deeper, and was rewarded by a pleasurable yelp.

Their bodies were now slick with sweat, and as the comforter slid from Marcus' back toward the floor, they were fully exposed to each other. Anya's moans were becoming louder and higher but now her sense of sound was beginning to fade. Her eyes pinched closed and as her lungs filled with the hot, heady air, as each push of Marcus' body made her insides throb with arousal, all of her worries were forgotten. There was nothing; there was no war, no imulsion, no loss, no pain, no suffering. In that moment, there was nothing but Marcus.

Now his pace had quickened, and Marcus knew he was close. His groin was clenching with pressure and now he knew that opening his eyes and seeing her face might tip him over the edge, but he had to take that risk. Anya's eyes were firmly shut but her lips were parted and her mouth widened as her moans grew louder. Her blond hair brushed her blushing cheeks and Marcus was certain he never had and never would see anything more beautiful in his life.

Keeping her legs against his chest, Marcus slid one hand down to grip her ass whilst the other moved to her clit, and when his thumb grazed the thousands of nerves in her throbbing core, Anya screamed. Her body arched from the bed and her body began to convulse in release. Lights flashed in the back of her eyelids, her skull pounded with ecstasy and every muscle in her body tensed sharply. Marcus buried his face into her chest and roared as he came.

Now it was over and the muscles in his body began to relax, his legs beginning to shake a little. Anya was panting, her eyes now wide open and wet, and as she looked to Marcus, she broke into a smile.

And now she would witness something for the first time, something that she herself would only see a handful of times and that others never would. Marcus looked into her eyes and his lips tugged into a small smile. It was a tiny movement, but his entire face softened, and Anya witnessed Marcus as he could have been had his family not been so emotionally distant.

They pulled each other close and lay together, still entwined. Anya ran her fingertips over Marcus' warm body, savoring every second of the moment together. She pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss, tasting the salt of his skin.

Her body was exhausted and she longed to sleep, but she fought the darkness as long as she could. When Marcus pulled away from her, only to lie next to her and pull her into his arms, she began to fall asleep. And when Anya slipped into a dreamless sleep against Marcus' chest to the rhythm of his beating heart, the entire world fell around her fell away.