I am, decidedly, the worst major in the history of all majors. I was put on an assignment to protect the beloved niece of my general, and I couldn't even do that with out messing it up. Of course, it's not exactly like I had a choice in the matter, is it? I can't help what I feel, it just happens. And, I suppose, it wasn't as it I was putting her in danger by falling in love with Elisabeth. If anything, I was more protective than I had been before, more aware—that could only be a help to my cause, correct?

Oh, I just don't know anymore. This is so confusing. And, I must admit, ironic. My plan to protect her at the beginning had been to get her to fall for me, and it had turned out exactly the opposite. If I wasn't so damn confused, I probably would've found this hilarious. Instead, it annoyed me. I didn't want to be in love with her. I didn't want to be in love period. Who did, these days?

Soldiers honestly should never fall in love. It only makes the whole situation of war more stressful and complicated. Always wondering if you'll ever see her lovely, angelic, faultless, wonderful face again. Hoping that she misses you as much as you miss her. Waiting for the war to be over so you can drop your past life to be with her…

Although, none of that was possible, for me. She would never feel the same towards me, I was certain. She was perfect in everyway, always truthful, so beautiful and caring. I wasn't bad looking, sure, but I was a liar and I was selfish. Everything I did, really, had something to do with me. Get me farther in my army career, things of that sort.

Almost everything I'd said to her since that day, more than a month ago, has been a lie. Of course, I had good reason, in my mind, to lie, but that didn't make it any better. At least, it probably wouldn't if she found out about the lies and half-truths I'd told her. She'd probably never forgive me.

Added, General Lee would have my head if I ever attempted to marry Elisabeth. She was his "little dove", the apple of his eye, and no one, especially me, would ever be good enough for her. Of course, I agreed with that view, and to argue with him over that subject would just make me a hypocrite.

And with all of that said, I must admit to you that I was just slightly upset, more relieved, when I received a letter from General Lee, asking me if I could hold off on Beth's protection for a week or two, to help evacuate a nearby town of women, elders, and youth. I, of course, accepted this task without complaint, and promised it would be done as soon as possible. He replied that he knew he could count on me.

And so, there I was, walking along the cobblestone street that Elisabeth's house was located, my hands in the pockets of my trousers, my shoulders slumped and my head hung, my feet shuffling along the stones. As I reached her house, where she stood outside, an alluring, amazing smile on her face, which promptly changed to a softly concerned frown.

"Jasper?" she asked, holding the hem of her deep purple skirt, and the matching lace-edged petticoat, out of the way as she hurried towards me, down her walkway, pushing the gate open. She rushed too me, looking up at my face, those expressive, gorgeous eyes scanning my own for a moment, before I forlornly looked to the side.

"Jasper," she repeated. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, per say. At least, I suppose it shouldn't be. I knew I wouldn't be stationed here forever…" It wasn't a lie, but it was leading toward one. More lies, more deception. I just wanted to tell her the truth!

I still avoided her gaze, taking a step back, my frown deepening; it was part of the act, yes, but it wasn't forced at all. I honestly felt like I was tearing my own heart apart by leaving her. She seemed to have become my heart; it was like she was my only reason for life or something. I existed now only to love her. Even if she hadn't a clue.

Her face fell even more then, the concern replaced by an emotion that I hoped was close to mine, but probably wasn't. Most likely, she pitied me. Or, she would miss her friend. She didn't love me in the same way I did. She never would.

"You're leaving?" she asked, her voice softer than it normally was, growing higher in pitch.

I simply nodded.

"Where? Why? For how long? Will you be back?" she tone was panicked, her eyes frantically stared into my own, and I nearly smiled at her worry. At least she cared about me enough to want me to come back, it seemed.

"Huntersville, to escort the citizens out of the town," I said. "Only a week or so, I believe. I'm fairly sure I'll be coming back." I smiled at her.

"When are you leaving?" she asked, the panic now replaced with sadness, it seemed.

"Tomorrow," I replied, starting to walk, looking down at her exquisite face as she followed my suit.

"And you're telling me just now?" she asked, anger flashing in the depths of her eyes.

I shrugged. "I didn't want to worry you or something before I had to. Besides, it'll be easier to say goodbye if I don't stay in the same town as you for a while." It just slipped out. I hadn't meant to say it.

But since I had, I hesitated only a second before adding. "The only reason, honestly, I don't want to leave Atlanta yet is you. I'm going to miss you. Probably more than you realize."

The blush started then, sweeping along her cheekbones, making me smile slightly, admiring the soft pick color as it spread slowly. "I'll miss you too. You'll have to hurry back, Jasper. I just can't picture Atlanta now with out you," she giggled a little, blushing deeper.

I nodded. "Of course I will, for you, darling," I said.

We'd stopped, like we were sometimes prone to do on our walks, when the conversation took all of our focus. We normally didn't notice; we were too wrapped in each other's words. I wouldn't have noticed this time, had I not stared at her long enough to realize that she wasn't moving.

Even that possibly would have escaped my knowledge, had I not leaned down and done something I regretted even before I had done it. I pressed my lips gently to her's, simply taking a step closer to her, wrapping an arm around her slim, stunning waist, the other bent up so that my hand could cup her soft face gently.

I didn't care that I wasn't invited to do something so improper. I didn't care that I was probably setting myself up for her yells. I didn't care about anything. In that moment, for once, I wasn't overanalyzing. I was just doing—acting on a whim. And, even if it only lasted a few seconds, those few seconds made it worth my while. She made it worth my while.