Ok I speak no Romanian none what-so-ever. I do know a guy from Romania but I don't know when I will be seeing him next and I didn't want to wait. I'm sure the grammar stinks (Romanian) but the words I found on the internet. Enjoy!

*-*-*-*-* He stood alone in the rain holding his black umbrella which contained a sword in the handle above his head. The Priest, Father Martin said words over the body of his good friend Dimitri Aleskandrov. Anthony knew Dimitri would be disappointed in him for not living up to his promise in its entirety, he just couldn't. He cared so much about the angel it made his heart ache but despite remembering Dimitri's words about love he didn't feel deserving of that of the angel. He had to move on.

After the fight at the hospital, he killed Clarke in cold blood even after Dylan screamed at him to stop, he couldn't face her and he doubted that she wanted to see him. He felt no remorse in killing the man who had emptied his gun into Matthews and was ready to murder Dylan.

When the sermon was over Father Martin left the cemetery and Anthony was left alone. He stayed and watched the men fill the grave with dirt and carefully place the black polished marble headstone. He knelt next to the stone in the muddy earth and ran his fingers over the engraving: Dimitri Aleskandrov 1924-2004 A brilliant man and a dear friend. He leaned his head against the cool marble and tears slid silently down his face. Not all that fell were for his deceased friend but also for his lost love.

Dylan didn't know why she was there at the funeral. She rationalized it to herself as thanking the man who created the vaccine that saved her but part of her she pushed down was hoping for something else. She got out of her car and realized she had forgotten her umbrella back at the office. "That is just like me always forgetting something. At least I remembered flowers." She removed the lilies from the backseat. Sighing she continued on her way. She knew that she was late and hoped that the funeral wasn't yet over. "Excuse me," she said to one of the grave diggers that were walking down the cobblestone path. "I am looking for the funeral of Mr. Aleskandrov."

"Lady you missed it. It ended a half hour ago. Don't get me wrong when I say this but it was a sorry sight. Only one guy showed up. We finished filling in the deceased's grave about ten minutes ago. It looks all pretty through."

"Where is it?" she asked.

"Up the slope there and last one on the end cant miss it. We haven't laid the sod yet. Once the tail end of this typhoon blows over we will lay it don't worry."

Dylan thanked him and followed his instructions walking up the slope and to the end of the line of headstones where one lone man knelt on the freshly dug grave. Her heart ached as she saw Anthony there the rain soaking though his jacket, the umbrella he carried long since abandoned. He didn't hear her approach and she placed her hand on his shoulder.

Anthony didn't acknowledge the touch. Normally he would have gone into defensive mode but today he didn't care if he was attacked. "Anthony," she said softly. He raised his head but he didn't look at her. He hoped she would go away she was making everything more difficult. "Are you alright?" He stared straight ahead unmoving. "He must have meant a lot to you."

Dylan was getting worried. Even though he was quiet she had never seen him like this. He looked so lost next to the grave stone his typical cool persona gone. She squatted down next to him, her hair now hanging in wet ribbons around her face, and placed her arms around him. At first he stiffened then relaxed, but he still didn't look at her. "Why don't we go somewhere and get some coffee and dry off? We could go to my place. I don't live that far from here."

Anthony didn't understand why she was being nice to him. If he was in her position he certainly wouldn't have been nice. He slowly turned his head and looked at the young woman next to him. She was drenched by the rain. The black blazer and white blouse she had on were soaked and he could see the bra she wore underneath the transparent material. He reached up and brushed a wet lock of hair out of her face.

Dylan stood and took a hold of his hand. She tugged it lightly and he stood as well. She smiled, she didn't think she had ever seen him look so disheveled before; soaked by the rain and muddy, she liked it. "So do you want some coffee or not."

Anthony nodded at her and picked up his umbrella holding it over their heads. "A little late for that don't you think?" she asked with a soft smile. He looked at her, then imagined what he must look like and lowered the umbrella. They walked to the parking lot where theirs were the only two cars, her classic mustang and his black Z-4. He started for his and she started for hers. "Why don't you ride with me? I can give you a ride back here later and you can pick yours up." He hesitated but then turned and walked to the driver's side of her car and tried to take her keys. "No, I don't think so. I'm driving," she said ducking and moving away from him. He relented he didn't feel like fighting today and got in the passenger side.

Dylan reached over and turned on the radio. She didn't think she could keep a one sided conversation going both in the car and at her apartment. "Maybe I should have let him take his own car," she thought as they drove down the rain soaked roads. She leaned over and turned on the radio. "Do you mind?" she asked. He shrugged and she switched on.

Anthony didn't know what he was doing. He had planned on having no contact with her unless of course they met while she was on one of her cases and he doubted they would have any cases in Bucharest. All his planning was for naught the moment she put her arms around him and any resistance he had crumbled. He was lost in his thoughts until Dylan said, "We're here." Anthony looked at the expensive beachfront condo and cocked and eyebrow at Dylan. "It's Lucrezia's. They couldn't get the person in my old place out so I get to keep it. I really want to redecorate soon. All the white is a bit .well white," she said as they walked up to her unit. Smiling she opened the door and said, "Welcome to my new home."

Anthony looked around the stark white apartment. She had been right way too much white or course people would have said the same thing about the amount of black in his own. Dylan called from the bathroom, "Make yourself at home. Sit on the couch, do whatever you want." Her comment about doing whatever he wanted made his mind race with thoughts of her on the couch.and "No," he told himself, "she is a friend and nothing else." A friend; that is how he decided he would think of her, nothing more.

He sat on the couch and flipped through some of the magazines on the table. Suddenly a towel zipped through the air and hit him on the back of the head. He turned and saw that she was wrapped up in a white robe her hair in a towel turban on her head smiling. It reminded him of when he came to her room at the Chief's. "Dry off. If you want you can take a shower and there is another robe in the bathroom." He took off his wet suit jacket, dried his hair, removed his tie, and then unbuttoned his wet shirt. "I'll bring you a t-shirt. I have a couple in XL that will fit you."

Dylan went into the bedroom and dug through a box of her things looking for a shirt for him. Seeing him take off his shirt brought her desires to the surface. "Down girl," she thought to herself, "keep in mind he's a killer and you are not going to get involved with another 'bad guy'; even if it is him." She found what she was looking for and took it to the living room. She knew he had his shirt off but she had never seen him without one before. She stopped a moment and watched him flip through "Guns and Ammo" admiring his physique. While he wasn't overtly muscular like Seamus he was sleek and reminded her of a panther. She briefly fanned her face and brought him the shirt. "Here you go."

He took the shirt from her, held it up and looked at it; "Def Leppard Hysteria Tour 1988" was emblazoned across the front of it. He lifted an eyebrow. "Ok so you aren't the Def Leppard type but it's all I can find." As Anthony started to pull it over his head Dylan couldn't help but reach out and touch the still pink scar on his chest, a reminder of the sword.

He froze as he felt her finger tips graze the sensitive scar on his chest. Her hand was warm compared to his flesh. As quickly as her hand was there it was gone. He pulled the shirt the rest of the way over his head but she was gone. He heard her moving about in the kitchen.

"How do you like your coffee," Dylan called out. She was so embarrassed .She didn't know what possessed her to touch him like that. She only knew that it felt right to do it at that moment. She hoped that he wouldn't bring it up. "Do you take milk or sugar or both?" She looked up from doctoring her coffee and he was there writing something. He handed her the slip of paper. Dylan was almost afraid to look at what he had written luckily it was only his coffee order, "Black, nothing in it." "Why doesn't that surprise me?" she asked with a smile. They walked back into the living room together and sat on the couch.

"Were you and Mr. Aleksandrov close?" she asked.

Anthony nodded and wrote, "He took me in after I left the orphanage. He taught me everything I know about swords and fighting." He remembered the picture he had taken off the wall at Dimitri's that he carried in his pocket. He got up from the couch and found his jacket hanging over the shower in the bathroom. The picture was slightly moist but in good shape still and he brought it into the living room. He handed it to Dylan.

"Boy! You were young. How old were you when this was taken?" she asked. He looked at her carefully and saw that she was sincere in wanting to know. He took a deep breath and softly said "Seventeen." He saw her eyes fill with encouragement and spoke a little louder, "I was seventeen." He turned his head slightly embarrassed.

"You spoke. I thought I heard you say my name at the theater but when I woke up I wasn't sure anymore." She reached out her hand and touched his face and turned him towards her. "I like your accent," she said smiling at him. "Mother Superior said that your family came from Romania. Do you speak Romanian?"

"Magnific par. Te iu besc" he said with a small smile.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

Anthony wasn't sure if he should tell her the truth or not. He decided partially, "Beautiful hair." He couldn't admit to loving her yet, not in a language she understood anyway.

"All that for 'beautiful hair'?"

"Yes," he said and reached out and touched a strand.

Dylan scooted a bit closer to him and took the picture in her hand. "He looks like a nice man."

"He was. He cared about me. The only person who ever really did besides my parents," said Anthony sadly. "His dying wish was that I quit."

"Quit? Being an assassin you mean?" Anthony nodded. "Are you going to?"

"I am going to try to quit. He wanted me to find a girl and get married. That isn't going to happen," he said bitterly and took a sip of the coffee.

Dylan felt her heart break. Here she was trying to stop feeling for him and yet when he said that Dimitri wanted him to find a girl and get married her heart chimed, "Me! Me! Me!" and beat faster. "Too bad he doesn't want me back," she thought keeping a smile on her face. "How can you be so sure you won't find someone?" she asked.

He didn't answer. He set his coffee on the table and walked over to the window that gave a view of the stormy grey ocean. "Vivian said it best, 'only a freak can love a freak'." Dylan stood and walked over to him and said angrily, "What did Vivian know? She was a bitter woman who liked hurting people. She took pleasure in other peoples' misery, and by the way you aren't a freak, and if you are then I must be one too."

Anthony turned and looked at her realizing the meaning behind her statement. He looked into her green eyes and wondered if she was joking with him but saw nothing of the sort, only deep sincerity. "Dylan," he started but wasn't sure what to say.

"Sshh," she said not believe she was telling him to be quiet. "I need to say something and I don't blame you if you want to turn and leave afterwards. It's okay if you do just remember your car is still at the cemetery." Anthony waited for her to continue. Dylan took a deep breath; all the while the rational part of her brain told her not to do this, not to start a relationship with him. Her heart told the brain to shut up. This was the hardest thing she ever said yet it was so easy to say to Seamus. Maybe it was because she didn't really mean it when she said it to him. "I love you." The words sped out of her mouth. "There I said it. I don't expect you to return the feelings but ." Anthony leaned down and stopped her words with a kiss. Dylan felt the same warmth spread through her being that she had in the hotel in Chicago. Her head felt light and her stomach like she was in airplane turbulence. When he stopped kissing her he looked into her eyes and said, "Te iu besc."

"Was that something about my hair again?" she asked. He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her again.