He stopped, took a deep breath, and began again. "What I mean to say, is..." Here, he began to fumble for words.

Ha! I got you there! You must've thought that I'd kissed him or something! Well... No such luck.

Scipio suddenly looked up at me, his face frustrated, fists clenched. "Damn it, Rae!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry; I was stupid, I just really like you and I couldn't think, and then--"

I blinked. What did he just say?

"Rae?" I blinked as Scipio called my name quietly. He had stepped closer, and I could feel his body heat against my clothes. I blushed.

"What did you say in that rant?" I asked him, my heart hammering in my chest. My voice was shaking.

"That I was sorry, stupid, I couldn't think," he began listing things off...

Did I just imagine it, then?

"Scipio," I said, feeling strangely light-headed. "Stop... It was the thing after 'I was stupid' and before 'I couldn't think.'" His face turned red and he didn't meet my eyes. SO I DIDN'T IMAGINE IT! I felt like I could lift right off the floor! I summed up what courage I had. "Scipio," I began, shifting a bit closer."I really--"

"You guys; hurry up in there!" It was Mosca.

I lost all my confidence and couldn't continue, stepping away and looking anywhere but at Scipio. He opened the door quickly. "What?" he asked, annoyed.

"We've got everything set up for dinner...if you want it," Mosca answered hesitantly.

"Sounds great!" I said quickly and walked past Scipio and out into the main room, sitting down on one end of the table. Prop raised his eyebrows at me, and I looked away. Just then, Scipio and Mosca came back and The Thief Lord sat down at the head of the table--on the complete other end of the universe. Thank God.

We ate dinner, and the others began to chatter as usual. Finally, the tense feeling between Scipio and I dissolved, and we began to join in on the conversations around us. I tried not to look at Scipio too much, and I could tell that he was trying not to look at me... Sometimes, though, I'd catch him looking, or the other way around; we'd both turn red and go silent.

Hornet and Prosper were whispering from their side of the table, but they seemed the only two who were aware of what was going on between the Thief Lord and I. They kept it to themselves, thankfully, except for one or two of Hornet's giggles.

As dinner finished, Scipio was leaning on his elbow, chin in his palm. His dark eyes studiously examined my face, and I tried to ignore him—eventually, though, I admitted defeat and watched him. My eyes devoured his thin, bruised frame, and followed his elegant hand as he picked up an olive and popped it into his mouth. He smiled at me then, and I turned scarlet, breaking my gaze away and sitting on my hands. I squirmed; my stomach was tight, and there was an uncomfortable feeling in my gut.

What was going on with me?

Three hours later found me in my room, reading by candlelight. Everyone else was downstairs, winding down and talking quietly amongst themselves. Everything in the room was silent; I had relaxed since the tense events before and during dinner, managing to slip away up to my box with the excuse that I wanted to read. But even now, I hadn't turned the page I'd opened to, and it had been ages since I opened it.

Suddenly, there was a knock on my door.

My heart leaped to my throat and I froze, gut twisting into knots just at the thought of who it might be—no, who I knew it to be.

If I'm quiet, maybe he'll go away…

No! I shouted at myself. I'm not a coward!

I closed my book (maybe a little too forcefully) and stood, walking over to the door on legs of Jell-O. When I opened it, no one was there. Relieved, I opened it wider and peered out down the hall, just in case.

What would you know; Scipio was walking away slowly, scuffing his feet. His hands were in his pockets, head down, shoulders slumped. For all the world he could have been a lost puppy. Again. I sighed. "Come in, Scipio," I called quietly.

He stopped, turned half-way to display the mostly-intact side of his face, and smiled at me slyly. "Knew you'd cave," he said roguishly.

I glared at him and held the door open wider. "Are you coming in or not?" He shrugged and pushed past me, pausing to examine the cover of the book I'd been reading. It was a copy of Twilight that Hornet had found on the ground. "What did you want?" I asked him as I sat down, throwing the book onto my bed.

He put his hands back in his pockets and sighed. "I...don't know if I should go back." A frown graced his brow, and he looked away again. The lost boy that he truly was had emerged again, all traces of the Thief Lord absent from his voice, eyes, and stature. I bit my lip and looked at my hands. Seeing I wasn't going to answer anytime soon, he continued, distressed. "I-I hate my dad, but I want him to realize how much he hurts me—I want him to open his and see that he's not being a father, see what he's doing to me!"

My hands twisted together anxiously and I looked up again. Our gazes locked; a pair of dark, frantic orbs met a lost, agonized gaze. He sank to the floor before me; even on his knees, on the floor, he was as tall as me (though I was sitting…still!). I squirmed, pressing my knees together, mouth suddenly dry as a desert.

"You love him," I whispered, eyes widening. I suddenly knew what was going on. "You just want him to love you back."

His eyes watered, and in that moment I knew that my words had a double meaning. I leaned forward and touched his bruised cheek, brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes. His skin was warm and damp. "I didn't think you understood," he whispered, voice tight. His eyes closed. "How do you know what this feels like?"

I tensed. Great way to blow your cover, Rae, I thought to myself angrily. There were two truths here, though. I couldn't tell him one—that would truly blow everything—but I could tell him one… If I had the courage to, that is. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes; I didn't notice him open his eyes and lean forward. "Scipio, I… I—"

Now it was my turn not to finish my sentence.

I know what you're thinking. "Oh, she's just tricking us again. She just started stuttering or something!"

You're wrong.

Scipio stopped me by pressing his lips to mine. I was taken by surprise, eyes snapping open and locking onto his bruised face. For a few moments I found myself frozen, pressed into the back of my chair by a pair of thin, strong arms. When I didn't respond, he pulled away, the beginnings of a blush blossoming on his pale cheeks. His eyes searched mine—and then widened as I caught his lips in mine.

Our arms slid around each other, my fingers tangle in his hair. I admit—I fell off of my chair and landed in his lap, straddling him and pushing him into the floor. Thought it might sound a bit much for a first kiss, it was extremely sweet and hesitant. When we finally pulled away, we were silent. We didn't look at each other, instead choosing to lie in each other's embrace and try to discern our tumbling, colliding thoughts.

A little while later, Scipio decided to go home and left. Everyone had long since gone to bed, and I couldn't seem to go to sleep--I had felt wide awake after Scipio had kissed me. Eventually even Shasta had fallen asleep, snoring contentedly on my bed.

Finally, I decided to move the story along: I would go steal something, and then tomorrow we'd sell it to Barbarossa and get the Conte's Job. Only...who would I steal from? The only places I knew were the Conte's Island, Scipio's house, Ida's house and--I bit my lip. The only other place I knew was Victor's place, but he didn't have anything, and it wouldn't be worth it. Maybe I could tell Scipio to gather some things from his house, give them to me, and then I could hide them until tomorrow and when he got here I could give them to him to show to the gang?

After some deep thinking, I decided it was either that, or raid Ida's house. And I'd rather talk to Scipio than face Ida and her gun again. So I pulled on my black coat, my shoes, and my hat, and then slid out of my room, leaving the door open. If Shasta decided to follow me he'd be able to get out--and then he could warn me to any danger. But that was only if he woke up.

I made my way outside, and then began the walk to Scipio's house, taking my time so as to make sure that when I got there everyone would be asleep. I dragged the walk out as long as I could, but after what seemed like only a heartbeat I was standing in front of the wall I had climbed over just the other night. I managed to get up, and then made my way to Scipio's balcony (thankfully avoiding another near-fall).

All the lights in the house were out--including Scipio's--but I could make out a small, soft, flickering glow through the window and curtains of his balcony. I quietly put a hand on the handle of one of the balcony doors, attempting to open it without making a sound. It was unlocked and opened silently; Scipio must've kept it quiet so he could sneak out without waking anyone.

The cool night breeze flew inside, causing the white, translucent curtains to billow inside. I opened the door a bit wider and slipped inside, my shoes making quiet pats on the wood floor. I turned my head to see if Scipio was in here, and saw him lying in his bed on his side, facing me. He was fast asleep.

A candle sat on the little drawer next to the bed, casting its comforting light on the bed and its occupant. His face was blank and peaceful as his mind drifted through dreamland. I suddenly didn't want to wake him; let him have one night's peace, you know? And yet I had to keep this story moving, or else this would end up being the only peaceful sleep he ever had! Oh, choices, choices!

I quietly walked over to his bed and pushed my hair behind me so that he'd see my face, and not be too freaked out. I had just touched his bare shoulder when his eyes shot open, body tensing.

"Shh," I whispered, putting a finger to my lips.

"What are you doing here, again?" he murmured in a demanding voice, sitting up.

Oh shit, I thought to myself immediately. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and while he had an extremely nice looking body, he also had many scars and half-healed cuts and bruises. "Erm..." I swallowed hard, ripping my eyes away from his chest to look into his eyes. "I wanted to ask you to steal some things from here and then give them to me--I'll take them back home and hide it till you come next (try to come tomorrow, please) and then I'll let you show it off...You don't want to lose your hold as leader and provider," I explained quietly. "And I want to intimidate Barbarossa again," I added with a woflish grin. He raised an eyebrow at me, obviously not completely believing me. "Look, can you just do it please?" I pleaded.

For a moment I thought he'd say no, but then he sighed. He threw the sheets back and my eyes snapped to his full body. He saw my stare and chuckled—inciting a scarlet blush from me. Thank God he's wearing sweat pants, I thought vaguely. "Just wait here, and be quiet," he murmured in my ear and then slipped out the door into the hall, closing it silently behind him.

I sat down on the bed and looked around the room dazedly, noticing things I hadn't the first time--like a small, framed photo on Scipio's bed stand, right where he could stare at it if he lay on his side like he had been. It was of a slightly younger and very handsome Dottore, a very young Scipio (he was maybe four or five years old), and a beautiful woman, who had Scipio's smile. They all looked so happy together.

There was a thin, almost unnoticeable tear down the center between the woman and the Dottore, angling slightly so that Scipio was on the woman's side. The glass in the frame also looked like it had been shattered at one point. I imagined that maybe, in a fit of sorrowful rage, Scipio had thrown the picture at a wall or something, angry at his father for being like he was, and angry at his mother (the woman) for leaving him with him. The tear was probably his way of showing that he wished his mother had taken him with her...wherever she'd gone.

As I pondered this, I heard soft footsteps and then the faint sound of the door opening. I looked around to see Scipio walking inside with a lumpy, oddly shaped bag. "Here--these should get a good amount of money," he whispered, tying the bag's ends and handing it to me. I took it and then looked back at the picture questioningly.

"That's my mom," Scipio said quietly, his voice so soft and sad that I had to strain my ears to hear it. "She and my father are 'separated'; they should be getting a divorce any time now." There was a biter edge to his voice, and he sat down heavily. I couldn't see his face clearly; his eyes seemed to be made completely of glittering, stony onyx. I put an arm around his bare shoulder and tried to reach around to circle my arms around him—his shoulders were too broad, though, and I couldn't reach completely.

Stupid small-ness.

My cool hand rested over his heart, feeling his lean chest under my touch. It rose and fell reassuringly, and I sighed. He rest his cheek on my head. "She said she loved me," he whispered in a voice so quiet and warm that it summoned tears to my throat; but then a bitter smile twisted his lips and he made a soft noise in his throat, as if laughing at himself. "That was a long time ago." He sighed again. "At least she said it. Father's never said anything truly kind to me. I mean, there are a few times when he was, uh, 'approving', but it wasn't…it wasn't from his heart. It wasn't fatherly."

My grip on him tightened. "Scipio, you need to stop worrying about what he thinks. I could calculate the odds of him ever changing, but for one thing I think you already know how slim a chance that is. Secondly…"

"What?"

"…I can't remember how to calculate odds." He laughed softly; I could feel the sound coming up from his chest. He was smiling, and laughing. Good! "Now, promise me you won't send him over the edge again. Or do anything at all that he'll harm you for."

He fell back onto the bed, pulling me with him, and then he lifted me up and set me down again so I was straddling his waist. I blushed. "Come on, promise!" I said stubbornly, all too aware of my hands on his thin, scarred stomach.

"I promise," he said solemnly, and reached up to pull me against him. His lips found mine, and once again I melted into him.

Finally, he pulled away and sighed. "You should be getting back. You need to sleep."

On cue, I yawned, clamping a hand over my tingling lips to keep quiet. I nodded and rolled off of him, standing. He followed, placing a hand on the small of my back and guiding me to the balcony door. "G'night, Scip," I murmured as he closed the door.

I saw him open the curtain enough to watch me as I made my way down the wall (thankfully, I didn't fall this time). I disappeared from his view, and walked home in a happy mood. It had been a good evening, don't you think? I hadn't had any near-death incidents, nor had Scipio, and everyone was happy. All this added up to the conclusion of a good day.

When I got back to my box Shasta was still asleep, but one of his ears swiveled in my direction as I closed the door behind me. Then he rolled over enough for me to slip in-between the sheets once I had changed. I snuggled close to his warm body and closed my eyes, a goofy smile on my face. This would be a good rest; filled with wonderful dreams. I could just tell.

Sure enough, as I slipped into dreamland I could still see a pair of soft, dark chocolate eyes, glinting in the moonlight...