circle3 Diclaimer: hah, if I did own this, I'd be Tamora Pierce. Wouldn't that be pretty pathetic if I was her and I was writing fanfiction about my own topic? Yeah, don't sue.
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"Goodbyes are not forever,
Goodbyes are not the end,
They simply mean I'll miss you
Until we meet again."
~Kristin Pruett~
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Chapter 3: Stardust

(A few days after Briar's book. They're about 14.)

Briar grumbled. Picking up another piece of his clothing, Briar stuffed it into his dilapedated suitcase. A cricket chirped outside his room and he jumped in tense surprise. Putting a hand to his head, Briar forced himself to calm down. He had known it all along. Those girls had driven him to paranoia. And, boy, had they done a good job! He swore if he was asked one more time for a "good-bye hug," he was going to go screaming into the moonlight. And nobody better go looking for him. He'd be better off.

Even Rosethorn hugged him. That hadn't bothered him so much. However, when Sandry, Tris, and Daja hugged him, it was totally different. It was just like. . .

Gag. Okay, maybe not gag. But it was somewhere between gag and "I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing." Briar had to face it; on the streets, you didn't hug random people just for fun. It was like an unspoken rule.

But, after a bunch of feminine whining, Briar finally gave in. He consented to give everyone one hug, and with the little experience he had at hugging, he was adamantly confused at what to do.

And the one question lingured on his mind: Where exactly did you put your hands while you hugged?

Briar simply shook his head in confusion before flinching when he heard the girl's voices come closer to his bedroom. He was quite sure if he heard another, "I'm really going to miss you guys," or another, "Let's write each other everyday," he was going to puke.

He had wanted nothing more than to grab them by the shoulders, shake them while screaming, "Get a GRIP! Nobody's dying! We're just going away for a year or so. Nothing to get sentimental about!" But, unfortunatly, Briar didn't dare actually act out on this. It would just be his luck that Rosethorn would take him aside- or drag him rather- and lecture him about his manners, and the responsibilities of a gentlemen, and proper etiquette, and blah, blah, blah. . .

It was really hard to be the only male in Discipline. No one understood you.

"Hey, Daja, where'd Briar go?"

Briar's ears pricked up at the last sentence. Oh perfect, they're on a manhunt. Well, he'd have to do something about that. He didn't want to be asked once again for a hug. Not only could he fill out a notebook with questions about things like hugging and --Briar gulped-- kissing, he was just really annoyed.

Quietly, Briar closed his suitcase and krept out to the hallway. No sight of the girls. Briar sighed in relief before he started slinking through hallway. If he could get out to the roof, he'd probably be safe. He was betting that none of the girls would bother to look there. They'd probably head off to garden or the temple kitchen. And they wouldn't find him there. Hopefully, if he delayed them long enough, he could fall asleep. They wouldn't bother him then. Or at least, he didn't think so. . .

When he reached the hatch for the roof, he pushed it open and crawled out onto the roof. A fresh breeze instantly welcomed him and Briar took a large lungful of air. That felt much better. Briar stood up and stretched out, feeling his limbs creek and groan. They seemed to Briar to be creeking, " 'Bout time you got away from all those females." Briar smiled. Free at last.

Or so he thought. "Thought you'd come up here." The voice was coming from a shadowy part of the roof. He couldn't see the person who was talking, but he knew who it was.

Sandry. Dang.

Briar's shoulders slumped in frustration. He twisted his neck so that it popped in some places. So he couldn't get away from the females. Beat 'em or join 'em. "All right, what are you going here?" He asked tiredly, knowing that being gruff or harsh about this would get him aboslutely nowhere.

He heard Sandry get up from a sitting position and start to walk over near him. "I should be asking you the same question."

The light was rather dim due the fact the sun was slowly descending down into the horizon, so Briar didn't see her until he was well into saying something, "What am I doing here? Okay, where do I start? Hmm, let's see. Well, for starters, I've been hounded down by the same sentimental females all day, and second I. . .um, I. . ." And that's when Briar's jaw went slightly slack and nothing coherent came to his mind.

Oh hail. Sandry had stepped into the light.

She had her arms across her chest, relaxed slightly and listening listlessly to him rant. She had changed out of her regular skirts and was simply in a silk night-dress that came to the mid-shin. It was a light fushia and the imperial cut had embroidary stiched into it. Briar had seen her stitch it with Lark lately, but he'd never seen it on her. And. . .um, okay; he liked it.

So he was a guy. So what? This reaction was normal. Right?

Plus, she had her hair down.

"And second?" Sandry asked Briar. She was, what looked like, oblivious to his stares. Her head was cocked to the side in question, smiling warmly.

And, with her smile, Briar snapped out of his aura and found himself smiling back at her. He just couldn't shake that infectious thing she did to him. Suddenly aware that he had been spoken to, Briar opened his mouth, "And second, I. . .um, well," he looked at Sandry in the eye before asking, "What was I talking about?"

Sandry raised an appraising eyebrow. "Is female interaction that bad for guys?"

Oh, smooth. So she knew why he came out here. So, what was she doing out here? Toturing him? That dress sure wasn't helping. "You try being asked fifty-million times for a hug and see how you turn out," he glanced at her before rolling his eyes, "but, of course, you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?"

Sandry laughed at that. "You might be surprised," She started before she sat down on the corner of the roof, "I'm not quite the 'huggy' type either."

He followed her suite and sat down next to her. Resting his elbows on his knees, he looked at her through his ebony bangs, "Actually, I shocked."

She slapped him over the head good-naturally before chuckling. "You watch yourself -- someday, believe it or not, you're going to have to act like a gentlemen."

"You think so?" Briar asked, smiling crookedly. Sandry raised her eyebrows at him and shrugged. "Naw," he concluded, shaking his head, still smiling.

Sandry laughed. He rather liked her laugh.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, staring at the half-night sky. The stars were starting to glitter through the dim, fading sunlight. Briar thought it was a rather pretty picture. Having Sandry sit so close to him helped his mood a bit.

But, darnit, he wasn't suppose to be thinking that. He wasn't supposed to be thinking any of the stuff that he had been asking himself in the last few seconds.

Was he attracted to her?

Well, he liked her dress. . .

What were all these conflicting emotions?

Like he knew. . .

Was all this becaise he felt something -- no. He was stopping there. Uh-uh, buddy. He had to draw the line here. After all, this was just Sandry.

Yeah, just Sandry. Hah.

"That's my star." Sandry interrupted Briar's turmoiled thoughts abruptly. She was pointing to a gleaming star that was just a few inches away from the moon.

Briar looked at her curiously, "Your star?"

She giggled and blushed delicately. "Uh-huh. Me and Pirisi each claimed a star." She turned to Briar, who was staring at her oddly. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you didn't do stuff like claim stars when you were little."

"I can honestly say I never did something that weird," Briar commented, smiling teasingly.

Trying to purse her lips but failing miserably, Sandry giggled, "Thanks. That makes me feel real mature." She paused, turning to Briar. Even her eyes were smiling. "You know, we're not going to be seeing each other for quite awhile after this." Something clouded over in her eyes. Briar prayed they weren't tears. He hated sappy, sentimental females.

He looked at Sandry pleadingly, "You're not going to cry, are you?"

She sniffed loudly and chuckled weakly, "I'll try not to." Tilting her head backwards, he could see that she was trying to keep her tears inside her eyes. Her attempts, however, were unsucessful. A lone tear cascaded down her cheek and she sniffed again. Loudly.

Dang times a billion. It was worse when they actually started to cry.

Briar sat sat next to her awkwardly for a few seconds, not really knowing what to do. Sandry sniffed again, this time more watery. Desperate, Briar thought with his instincts. In a split second, he wrapped one hand around her shoulder and brought her closer to him.

Okay, not what he had in mind. However, it wasn't a bad idea.

Sandry's usual happy composure crumpled instantly. Her chest heaved with silent cries. Fortunatly for Briar, she wasn't making much of a sound. He was afraid that if she did, he would start to cry too. Already, much to his dismay, his eyes were becoming a bit watery. He glanced at the stars, trying to look distracted.

"You don't try very well, you know," Briar whispered teasingly after they had sat in weeping silence for a minute or so.

She stopped crying, before she looked up at him, eyes squinted. Pursing her lips, she pushed him in the chest playfully. "You don't empathize very well, you know," She mimicked, trying to use an annoying mocking voice.

Briar simply rolled his eyes.

Sandry giggled before sniffing again. And then, much to Briar's surprise, she curled up closer to his embrace. "It's getting cold out here," She commented through clenched teeth. Then she shivered, as if to prove that she was really cold.

Although he was resonably shocked at what Sandry had just done, Briar couldn't recover from his usual smug self. Truth be told, it was really chilly outside. But that didn't stop his next suggestion, "Maybe, if you had more clothes on, it would help."

Almost a second after his last comment, Sandry blushed a crimson red. She almost jerked out of his embrace before she glared at him, fire in her eyes. "I hope," she started, almost stuttering incoherently, "that Rosethorn knocks some kind of gentility into that large, empty head of yours. It'd do you good!" The fire was still in her eyes, blazing brightly. However, she still hadn't crawled out of his embrace, even as loose as it was.

Briar stared blankly at her for a few brief seconds before bursting into laughter. Putting his hand near his heart, he dead-panned, "Oh, please, spare my heart. It breaks, really."

Cha-Ching. Was he good or was he good?

Sandry stared at him, lips pursed. Shaking her head, she leaned backwards, almost crushing his arm between her back and the chimney they were leaning against. She kept quiet for awhile before shouting at the sky, "All willing gods, please find him a girl who can strap him down to table and tie his mouth shut!" She glanced deviously at him through slinted eyes, "It'll keep him in shape."

Rolling his eyes, Briar chuckled. Did the girl ever get angry? Even if he didn't want to admit it, he probably did deserve a good slap now and then. Sandry was more than capable to do that.

So, what was wrong with the girl? Well, other than the obvious. . .

They sat in silence for awhile. Comfortable silence. The good kind of silence. Briar was becoming painfully aware that he had his arm around Sandry even though she wasn't crying. Instead, she had her face tilted to the side and her eyes closed. All that was left of her former tears were a silver train of water. Her lips were parted slightly, a subtle smile gracing her face.

That's when Briar realized that he was smiling also. And that's when he realized what he was really doing. This kind of scernario would have sent him gagging just a year ago. This is what girls would call, "Sooo romantic." Tough guys didn't do stuff like this. He was a tough guy. Right?

A tough guy gone soft.

Briar he jumped up as if bitten, jerking his hand from underneath Sandry. That didn't leave Sandry in a good predicament. With Briar's unexpected jump, she fell over to the side, just barely catching herself with her hands. On impact, she made somewhat of an, "Omph!" noise, and her hair fell in front her face.

Preturbed, Sandry stared into space for a brief moment before glaring up at Briar. "What in the world?!" She snapped while she blew a piece of hair out of her eyes.

He was caught off-guard, shocked at his own actions. He stammered uver his words before stuttering, "I thought it was getting late," He looked at her before nodding his head earnestly, "Yeah, and, I knew you had to get up early tomarrow, so I thought you should go to bed."

She grunted while she pulled herself up, "That's why you nearly killed me?" Standing up, she pulled her hair back so that it wasn't in her face. She was practically glowering.

"Killed you?" Briar laughed nervously before running a shaky hand through his hair, "It would take a lot more than falling off a roof to break that thick skull of yours."

Much to Briar's pleasure, Sandry chuckled at that. Shaking her head, she stood up and brushed off her dress. When done with that, she glanced at him before rolling her eyes. Slowly, she walked up to him, looking him right in the eyes. Then, in a split second, she knocked twice on his forehead before she started walking towards the roof's hatch.

Briar raised his eyebrows appraisingly before he turned to Sandry. "And, what exactly, was that for?" He asked, his eyebrows still raised.

She turned to him before smiling smugly, "Just making sure I wasn't as thick-headed as you." Sandry shrugged elaboratly, putting her whole body into it. "But I saw that was an impossible feat to accomplish." With that said, she winked at him.

"Oh, ha ha. I'm nearly dying with laughter," Briar said, sarcasm dripping off his words. He tried to keep a straight face, but didn't succeed. Sandry had to smile at him sweetly, her eyes bright. And, as if on cue, he smiled back.

Darnit again. While he was at it, darn it again, and again, and again, and again. . .

Briar joined her on the roof hatch, ready to go down to the house. As he was just about to go back into the house, Sandry stopped him.

"So, I guess this is good-bye for awhile now," She said quietly, her voice almost in a whisper. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight.

He glanced up at her cautiously. He steadied himself to make a break in case she asked "the dreaded question." Briar clenched the sides of the roof hatch, "You're not going to hug me, are you?" He looked at her with an almost pouty expression. Nervous too.

Sandry giggled, before shaking her head. "No," she started, but then she peered at Briar mischievously.

The next thing that happened, Briar didn't like to think of as reality.

She leaned over and gently put her lips on his. Then, as quickly as it started it was over. She pulled back, only, gazing at him through devious eyes.

Briar stood there with his eyes wide opened, staring blankly ahead in a shocked expression. He blinked once. Twice.

Sandry giggled at his expression. And that's when he snapped out of his blank stare.

"Ohhhh, no you don't!" Briar stood up from his sitting position and wagged a stunned finger in Sandry's face. "I do not think so. You can not do this again. . ."

"Do what again?" Sandry asked innocently, blinking mischievous eyes.

Briar bit his lip. "You know prefectly well "what." Come on Sandry, stop doing that." He glared at her, "You're messing with my mind."

Sandry simply shrugged before opening the hatch and crawling down to the living areas. "Good-night, Briar," she called sweetly sarcastic, before dissapearing down the hallway.

He was about to call after her, but instead he sat on the ledge of the roof hatch and pouted.

What exactly just happened there?

She was teasing, no doubt. But, why was he thinking things he wasn't supposed to think?

Let's just get this straight:

Sandry + Briar = Not going to happen, or:

Noble + Street Rogue = Never happened.

He would just have to force himself to say friends over and over. . .

Friends, friends, friends. . .

They were just friends. . . Right?

Briar sighed before crossing his arms across his chest. It was going to be a long year.
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A RATHER LONG AUTHOR NOTE, (A.K.A. Read at your own risk!):
Yes, I know, almost like the first one. But do you guys have any idea how fun it is to write moonlight-kissing scenes? Okay, I admit, I'm weird. . . but, I wanted to show this scene when they were a little more mature.
Anyways, in case you haven't caught on, these stories alternate from 3rd person POV, (Point of view.) It's like: Briar, Sandry, Briar, Sandry, etc.
The installments are going to be more spread apart now only for the fact that I have a summer part-time job (I'm only fourteen and I have to work during the summer. Is there no justice?) , soccer practice, and my friend's moving away. Soooo, don't be mad if they're every other day.

To the reviewers:

You guys are the best! Thanks a million. I just have to say a few things for people who asked questions or made comments.

Vistana: I think you asked something about sabaac, (did I spell it right?) Hmmm, I'm not quite sure if it was sabaac. I just remember playing something like to what I wrote about with my friend while we were on a train from St. Charles to Chicago. It could be... sabaac. The only real difference between the game I wrote about and the one I played with my friend was that perfect score was 26. Hope that answered your question! Thanks for asking!

Blue Wynd Faerie: Not to worry about Sandry and Tris fighting. I think that idea is a little chiché. It's not a fight, just merely a, "misunderstanding." But you'll see what that means at the end.

Kitty: Everyone take wonderful notice of perfect constructive criticism! Thank you for setting a good example for people to follow. Your suggestions help me make the story better. P.S. I'll get around to e-mailing to you soon.

Everyone else: Your wonderful too! I just thought I might answer some questions by some peeps.

But I've bored you enough with author notes. 'Till the next story, bye!