What's Past is Prologue

by Truth and Chaos

The ifs, the ands and the whys all lined up like a set of dominos. Before that I'd never really thought of those things, oh I knew them but they didn't really occur in the same string of thought processes. We lived within two hundred miles of each other as children and would have never known the other existed if our paths hadn't intersected by chance.*Formerly Some Nights*

2. The Past

The heavy foot fall of men's boots and the solemn sound to their voices told me to stop before I made it a few feet out of the bedroom. Andy's birthday present, neatly wrapped and just a little heavy sat between my hands. I meant to bring it down stairs. To set it on the table near the cake. The cake which I still had to bring up from the fridge in the basement. He'd been home about two days this time and he'd be gone in another three but at least he came home for this birthday. Last year I hadn't even known where he was to call him.

"I mean it Eliot," Andy's voice floated up to me from my grandparent's living room.

I stood just behind where the wall ended and gave way to the hard wood railing near the stair case. They couldn't see me. I felt guilty for eavesdropping but something in the way my husband spoke to his friend/compatriot told me to stay where I was. The same something told me that I needed to hear this conversation. I tried to soften the sound of my breathing, barely daring to move at all lest I tip them off.

"Andy," I could hear the reservation plain as day in Eliot's tone. "I'm ain't the right guy to be askin' this."

I heard a snort and short, almost bitter laugh. "Who else do I ask? You want me to ask Carlton? Or Dryer? He's got a woman in every state." Even without seeing it I knew Andy was shaking his head in the way he did when he saw no other options to a solution. I could visualize his frown, the corners of his full mouth turned down and the slight tilt of his dark head. Before the buzz cut hair would have fallen over his eyes giving him this endearing, almost bad boy look. Back in those days he could pout at me and I'd fold like a bad hand.

These days he didn't pout much. Not since joining Special Forces.

Andy didn't even smile much these days unless he was with me.

I didn't want him to re-up when his term finished at the end of the year but he told me he had to. Not wanted to. Had to. As if he had no choice in the matter. We fought about it the night he came home. I made him sleep on the couch downstairs. I didn't like thinking that he went places we couldn't talk about. I didn't want him coming home with fresh scars and old bruises anymore. I wanted him to smile again. Scared didn't even begin to cover the bill for the turmoil that bubbled in my chest every time we talked about his chosen profession.

He only planned on staying in the service until he managed to get college tuition covered.

The heavy sigh that came from Eliot sounded a bit like resignation with equal parts frustration and exasperation, "Carlton's a son of a bitch. Helluva sniper, but a son of a bitch. I wouldn't trust Dryer any further than I could throw him."

"So are you gonna do what I asked or are you gonna make me talk to one of them?" Andy pressed almost desperately.

"What the hell brought this on man?" Eliot sounded annoyed, borderline pissed off. I remembered what Andy told me about him. The man was built like a boxer and fought like he had violence trying to get out.

The quiet in the rest of the house allowed me to make out the sound of cloth shifting just a little. Andy had either shrugged or he'd taken a swallow of his beer. "You didn't see her face when I told her I was going to re-up." He sounded hurt. Worried and hurt. "If anything happens to me Faith…" his voice trailed off.

My chest ached painfully.

"I didn't know," Andy said and his words were strained, "I didn't know that I couldn't do this and have her too."

At that moment I knew I shouldn't have been hearing their conversation. I couldn't move though. My limbs were frozen with a cross between self loathing and the overwhelming need to cry. Tears burned my eyes. I swallowed past a lump in my throat that felt like I'd sucked down a softball.

I heard a deep breath and a low intelligible mutter come from Eliot.

"I love her," Andy said and it sounded like he was pleading. Andy didn't beg. He had too much pride but Christ in heaven that sounded as close to it as I'd ever heard him get. "Eliot, I know okay? I know. But I love Faith. I've been in love with her since we were kids. I married her because I refused to live without her and yeah, it was stupid and it was selfish. I know it's all fucked up now. I know that but fuck anyone and you if you think you can talk me out of wanting to make sure someone watches out for her."

The small bumps on the wall pressed back against my skin as I leaned back against it. My knees threatened to give and my hands shook to the point I tightened my grip on Andy's present. My fingernails went white and bloodless. The tears slid scalding hot from my eyes to my flushed cheeks. They dripped from my chin to make dark stains on the blue-grey cotton dress I wore because Andy made a comment about wanting to take off me later. My teeth bit so hard into my lower lip to keep me silent.

It seemed like it took an eternity for Eliot to answer. "I'll keep an eye on her."

My lungs burned for breath but I didn't move, didn't dare breathe too heavily or too much until I heard their voices and their footsteps head outside again. Once the screen door closed I dropped to my ass on the wood floor and let myself cry. I never meant to hurt Andy and I never meant for him to feel like that. Oh I'd tried to make him feel guilty for being away from me but I didn't think that something like this would happen. I didn't realize how I made him feel.

I never felt as young, naïve or stupid as I felt at that moment. I went over our fight the night he came home and when I thought about it again I realized how selfish I'd been. Young, stupid, naïve and above all, selfish. The word bitch came to mind.

After beating the living hell out of myself mentally I went into the bathroom and washed my face. Re-applied the little make-up I wore. Eye drops for the redness from crying. Andy's presents were stacked neatly in a little pile on the dining room table by the time everyone came into the house again. I brought his cake up from the basement and put the finishing touches on it just as my grandmother began her off-key, slightly accented rendition of 'happy birthday to you' while our friends and few family members joined in. My grandfather and I carried in a checkerboard cake with twenty three candles and chocolate whipped cream frosting into the dining room.

I gave my husband as happy a birthday as I could give him, including two rounds of birthday sex. We were lying post coital bliss, the sheets rumpled around us and his fingers interlocked with mine. I listened to his heartbeat, my body nestled against his, my head resting where his chest and shoulder met. I belonged here with him. I knew that as sure as I knew that tomorrow the sun would rise and that in three more days he would be going back to wherever he was stationed now.

He couldn't tell me where. He couldn't tell me why. I didn't ask anymore.

His conversation with Eliot came back to me as Andy did what he always did. He kissed my forehead and wrapped his arms around me. I felt precious and loved with him. I always had. I thought that I always would. I kissed his dimpled cheek while my fingers trailed over his chest and slowly downward to his wakening member.

He laughed a deep laugh, "Woman, again? I'm not made of condoms you know." His hand reached for the nightstand anyway.

I pulled his arm back, putting his hand on my hip. "Forget it."

His forehead creased adorably in confusion, "What?"

I shrugged and kissed him harder than I could ever remember kissing him before. I felt him go from half mast to full mast as I pressed my body against his. A low, deep rumble emitted from his throat that sent things in my lower bits into a flurry of fluttering excitement and tightening anticipation. The sheets twisted around us started to be more of an irritating hindrance at that point.

Andy rolled us over, elbows on either side of my head, dark eyes searching mine, "What about finishing school? What about getting a job and being established first?"

I rolled my eyes heavenward as if exasperated with him, "If you don't want to we could just go to sleep…" Pretended to try to slide out from underneath him.

He laughed but the heat in his eyes said other things. Things that spoke to parts of me that were a little sore from the last two rounds. "Faith," his mouth pressed to mine and I kissed him back with the same passion.

My fingernails trailed down his back while he busied himself biting the joint between my neck and shoulder. "School," I moaned a wanton sound I hoped no one outside the room heard, "It's my last semester." I scratched him hard when he found a spot that my spine bow and arch off the bed. His arm wrapped around me, holding me against the hard muscle of his chest. I loved that my soft bits meshed with his muscled bits so well.

"And finding a job?" Andy murmured against the skin of my stomach.

He expected me to think while he did that? I grabbed what I could of his hair and yanked him back up my body. I held his face while he looked down at me, watching me with those dark eyes that I loved so much. I smiled up at him. "I think I'd rather start a family with you than work for some jerk that's going to take me for granted and treat me like crap."

He laughed then, a deep real laugh. The kind I hadn't heard from him in almost two years. He kissed me until we both needed to come up for air. "Baby," he whispered his lips millimeters from mine as he spoke. "You must be the woman of my dreams."

I pressed my lips against his. "No. Just the love of your life."

He rolled his hips a little proving to me that he was willing to love me in all sorts of ways right now. I giggled a girlish giggle and sighed a happy sigh. I decided that day that I would give Andy all I could because I loved him. I wouldn't be a selfish brat. I would be happy to be with him because giving him something to come home to made me believe that he would come home.

I wish that was all it took.

---

Staring at lines can make you a little crazy. It messes with your vision. I think I stood at the sink in the bathroom trying to will two pink lines into existence for hours. One pink line stared back at me as it had for the past three weeks straight. Like it had since we started trying. On one hand I knew logically that the odds of me being pregnant after Andy's death were slim. I only saw him one more time a few days before he died. On the other I couldn't stop wanting to have just a small piece of him. Hope and a touch of fear, irrational as those emotions can be, had me double and triple checking when my period didn't show.

Logic told me that the stress of my husband's funeral, forcing myself to move away from Missouri and starting a new job made my body go wonky.

I could say that I don't know why I moved like other people would because they wouldn't be exactly sure how to make it seem like they weren't just chickening out. Me, I'll admit it. Everything became overwhelming when I came back to reality. My four day withdrawal from the world meant nothing without someone to be my buffer so I left. Everything I'd known for the first twenty one years of my life stayed in Missouri and I took the first job I could get elsewhere.

Running away seemed like a good idea. Starting over sounded even better.

The cold of the bathroom tiles began to slip past the barrier of my socks and into the soles of my feet while I stood there waiting for two pink lines. I kept thinking about the days and the months in between seeing Andy and my period and the more I thought about it the less the numbers added up. Math and I are not the best of friends but I can do the basics in my head and no matter what exceptions and allowances I made nothing worked. I dropped the pregnancy test into the waste basket, mentally kicking myself for not using my brain to begin with.

Feeling like an idiot usually goes away with ice cream, chocolate and fried food. None of which I had in my refrigerator. All of which the small market down the street had aplenty. I found my old and well worn converse, dark blue and somewhat tomboyish. Grabbed my keys, a light jacket and headed out. The darkened, heavy sky overhead held the promise of rain soon. I made my feet move a little faster when the dull roar of thunder sounded over the honk of cars.

Mid-morning on Saturday and the streets here were busy. I tried to keep up with the timed weave through pedestrian traffic on the way to the market. I still felt like a tourist even though I tried to make a point of not looking up anymore. My new coworkers assured me that I'd get used to everything soon, but I didn't think I would.

The savory smells of Chinese food and pizza hit me right before I went into the shop. My stomach rumbled even though I'd eaten breakfast a couple of hours ago. I love the food here in New York. One redeeming quality of a town that I couldn't quite get the hang of yet. The Indian couple that ran the market hailed me by name. They both though it terribly funny that I ate a lot more fruits and veggies than their regular customers. If only they knew how much I actually loved carbohydrates and junk food.

I grabbed a basket and found the frozen foods.

My grandfather, a Korean War veteran and a former boxer, taught me to always be aware of my surroundings while growing up. That is why I noticed the man standing at the end of the isle. He stood just within my peripheral vision, at least six foot one, dark clothes, and dark hair. In all honesty he wasn't doing anything but looking at the bread at that end of the isle but something about him made the skin between my shoulder blades tight and itchy.

I stopped debating the merits of Neapolitan ice cream with its triple flavors of temptation versus Turkey Hill's Tin Roof Sundae. In the end it didn't matter. I'd still be sitting on my couch eating junk food and watching old Stargate episodes. A small bottle of Coke followed by a large bag of potato chips made it into my basket when I heard footsteps approaching.

Tall, dark and a little unnerving, stopped a handful of feet from my when I turned to see who was there. It bothered me to think he might have come closer if I hadn't thought to look. The hairs on the back of my neck felt prickly.

He gave me a friendly smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Sorry to startle you," he said in an oh-so-polite tone without sounding like he meant to apologize at all.

I didn't return his smile. "You didn't startle me." My feet wanted to give ground and step back but the tight itch between my shoulders and the prickling sensation on my skin said stay put.

His jaw clenched and his right hand, more than likely his dominant hand, flexed and tightened. Either he didn't like that he hadn't scared me or he didn't like that I wasn't showing fear. Almost instantly those indicators were gone, replaced by a nice guy smile that looked too practiced to me. "I was just wondering, since you seem like you know what kind of stuff they have here, could you help me find something for this party I have to go to later?"

"I don't work here. I'm sure if you ask one of the owners they can help you." I was already lamenting the fact that I'd more than likely have to find a new place to grocery shop because of this guy. Even if he didn't turn out to be a creeper he still gave off the creeper vibe and I wouldn't want to be anywhere that I could possibly run into him.

The front door to the store jingled as someone else entered the store. Tall, dark and creepy looked away from me for just a second. I took that as my cue to move to another isle, trying to keep my steps normal. After grabbing a bunch of things I didn't need; ice tea mix, cat food for the strays that lived in the alley next to my building, and dried apricots because they made excellent snack food, I dared to venture to the register.

I didn't see tall dark and creepy. I didn't see him while I made small talk with the owner's wife. Nor did I see him while she rang me up and bagged my groceries. I thought I might be home free when he got in line behind me. There were no snack foods or party treats in his basket.

My hand was just coming back from taking my change when he spoke.

"I'm sorry if I scared you off back there," again his voice held no apology. This time he went for the shy, quiet almost bashful tone that would have had anyone else rethinking his actions. The human mind will make excuses for another person's actions if only to keep from offending. That simple trait bred into us from day one can get you hurt or worse if you aren't careful. "I'm not used to doing this. I don't meet normally meet beautiful women on the street."

Christ he was barking up the wrong tree. I'm not beautiful. On a good day I'm five two. My hair decided to go for a frizzy wave so I put it up in a loose bun at the base of my neck and I'd gone without make up save the cherry chap-stick and Olay moisturizer I slathered on earlier. I'm average, nondescript, and unremarkable in every way save my eyes but they were hiding behind sunglasses. Flattery usually annoys me if only because I know anyone paying me compliments wants something.

In front of me the owner's wife gave me an 'I'm so happy for you' look. That smile on her face said I'd get no support from her for turning this guy down.

When I turned around, groceries in hand I tried to keep my face as neutral as I could considering this guy looked capable of squashing me like a bug. I opened my mouth to reject him as nicely as possible and stopped when I saw the man off to the side. My brain and my eyes and the synapses between got their signals crossed for a moment. His hair looked a little longer, his skin a little more tan which made his blue eyes seem surreal. His eyes weren't on me though, they were on tall, dark and creepy who was still watching me.

"Eliot," I stepped over to him, hugged him and despite the fact that physically this was the closest I'd ever been to him, he hugged me too. "Long time no see." I gave him a smile that was mixed relief and a 'please, let's get out of here' plea.

His gaze didn't leave the tall, dark figure until we were out of the market.

He walked back to my apartment with me in companionable silence. I got the feeling he wanted to say something but whatever it was stayed locked behind his lips. We were in the elevator on the way up to the sixth floor when I said, "So…you were in the neighborhood?"

"Somethin' like that," his reply was gruff, the remnants of an emotion I couldn't place coloring his voice. He didn't turn to look at me, just kept his eyes on the metal doors in front of us. "You're gonna need to find somewhere else to shop."

I sighed, "Figured that." The elevator dinged and the door opened to my floor.

"I'll get you pepper spray."

Somehow, Eliot telling me that made me feel a lot better. We made it into my apartment without incident. He, like the soldier he was, did a perimeter check of my flat. Once he seemed satisfied that my windows were all properly locked, the chain and deadbolt secure and there wasn't anyone lurking on the fire escape or in the closets he came back into the kitchenette. I left his bowl of ice cream waiting for him on the island that served as my dining table. One of his eyebrows cocked upward as if to ask whether I seriously expected him to eat that.

I mock saluted him with my spoon, "You probably just saved me from at worst a potential stalker and at best a very, very awkward rejection conversation. Think of it as a thank you."

I felt him watching me while I ate and after a moment or two he sat down across from me. He didn't touch his two scoops of chocolate, vanilla and fudge until after everything began to look mushy and soupy. Then he grabbed his bowl, and my empty one, to wash them in the kitchen sink.

"You look better," he said over the soft swish of water and the dish sponge.

For some reason, that is what set me off. One moment I watched his broad back as he cleaned the dishes and the next my vision swam with tears. A glass of Coke appeared in front of me, complete with two ice cubes and a straw. I glared at him while I swiped at my cheeks. "I'm not in shock."

Eliot rolled his shoulders, "Humor me. You'll feel better."

Embarrassment heated my face, staining my cheeks red with blood. "Is this what you consider keeping an eye on me?"

If it bothered him I couldn't tell. The man had a stone cold poker face. He planted one hand on the counter and inched the glass forward. "Drink it."

Instead I pushed the Coke to the side. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not grateful for your impeccable timing but…" I scowled at him, "Shouldn't you be, I don't know, off on the other side of the world because Uncle Sam wants you there?"

Patiently he picked up the glass and set it in front of me again. The remains of the ice cubes clinked against one another pitifully. "Drink it and I'll tell you Faith."

Maybe it was because he used my name or maybe because honestly I was thirsty after eating all of that ice cream. I drank the slightly watery Coke and yeah, I did feel a little better. "You do realize that I moved because everyone kept trying to make sure I was okay, right?"

He took the empty glass from me and washed that too. Jesus his mama taught him well. The man not only held open the door for women, he did the dishes! I felt a little twinge of guilt for being such a petulant beotch.

"I didn't re-enlist."

I stared blankly at him waiting for an explanation. The silence seemed overwhelming but he offered nothing further. When I became certain he wouldn't talk without a bit of prompting, I made motions for him to continue. He silently leaned back against the counter across from me and said nothing. Nada. Andy told me a few times that he thought Eliot was a lifer. As in, in the army for life. The very idea that he wasn't part of the armed forces anymore seemed almost impossible. Minutes passed. He still didn't explain.

"Christ Eliot, you can't just drop that bomb on me and not say why!"

His eyes dropped from my face to my neck before returning, he nodded at me, "That the promise ring he gave you?"

I touched the small silver claddagh ring with our, Andy's and mine, mutual birthstone set into the heart. I wore it under my shirt with my wedding ring. People tended not to ask about either because they never saw them. Gingerly I pulled out the thin silver chain they hung on so he could see them better. Touching them made my heart ache. I dropped them back under my shirt.

"The girl I gave a promise ring to got married last year." Thumbs hooked in his belt loops, head bowed just a little. No ring on his ring finger. Anyone else might have looked more upset. Eliot? His poker face didn't crack but a brief sort of regretful sadness entered his eyes.

I shook my head because that sucked. A lot. "I'm sorry Eliot."

He shrugged, "I wasn't there."

"Where were you?"

He didn't answer. He just gave me that poker face again.

I sighed at him. "Okay. Probably job related. I won't ask." I hopped out of my seat, "the couch folds out into a bed. Sheets in the hall closet. Extra pillows in there too. If you're staying you're cooking dinner."

That made the corner of his mouth turn up, "What makes you think I can cook?"

"Your mama taught you to do the dishes when they're dirty. You can cook. Might not be able to cook well but you're southern. How bad can you be?"

I watched him try to fight a laugh, "Yes ma'am."

After that I wasn't exactly sure what to say to him. All together we might have held ten, maybe twelve conversations total. As it stood I actually knew very little about Eliot. I wasn't really sure about his last name either. That's why I always called him by his given name. Mentally I accounted for the things I did know about him.

I knew he had a sister who married a jerk that Eliot wanted to beat the crap out of. His sister and the jerk had a son who was five or six years old. Eliot had a soft spot for his nephew. He liked kids. He grew up in Kentucky around horses and he could ride them fair enough. He talked a lot with my grandfather and grandmother about their ranch and all of the animals. The dogs loved him and he loved them in return.

Aside from that, no I didn't know him. So why would I offer him my pull out couch?

Because he had Andy's back right up until the end.

That was enough for me.

There were a lot of things I learned about Eliot during the week he stayed at my apartment. The first and foremost, Eliot wasn't just a good southern boy trying to do right by what his mama taught him. Oh no, he was a bred in the bone southern gentleman, a little bit humble and somewhat of a good ol' boy in the better sense of the term. At first I thought Eliot just didn't talk a lot, the truth turned out to be that until you got him on a subject he liked, the man just liked to people watch. He had this deep laugh that went along with his scratchy voice that sounded like a rumble of thunder coming from his chest. He spoke four different languages and was trying to learn a fifth. And, while the man didn't have any remarkable skills in the cooking dinner department he was fantastic at making breakfast foods.

There were a couple of things I learned about myself too. Like, until Eliot became my unofficial roommate I hadn't realized how lonely I actually was in my little apartment. Or that my skipping breakfast every morning might have been making it harder for me to learn the subway system. He kept saying skipping meals caused concentration problems. When I walked through the door forty-five minutes after leaving work on Monday instead of almost two hours later I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

On the Saturday after him appearing out of nowhere we were sitting at the kitchen island eating pancakes and talking about the merits of me learning self defense when he spilled the beans.

"I'm leaving today," he sounded almost apologetic.

I pushed my fork through thin, sweet maple syrup. Hunger evaporated with half my stack of vanilla and chocolate breakfast still left on my plate. My mouth went a little dry. I reached for my milk, the milk he'd gone out to get last night when he realized that he'd have nothing to cook with in the morning. After I gulped down a couple of mouthfuls, "so where are you going?"

He shook his head, "Better if I don't tell you."

"You're not in the army anymore; you can tell me this stuff now."

The right corner of his mouth curved upward, "I could, but it's better if I don't."

I rolled my eyes, "Uh huh. Next you'll be telling me to trust you because you're older."

Eliot laughed that deep rumbling laugh, "I am older than you darlin'."

I made pfft sound at him and circled my fork in the air, "Seven years. Yeah. Big difference."

He pointed at my soggy pancakes, "You done?"

I pushed the plate toward him. He dumped my leftovers into the garbage can and set on doing the dishes again. I glowered at his broad back. "You spoiled me, you know that right? It's going to be a pain in the ass to have to start cooking myself breakfast from now on."

"Go to bed ten minutes earlier and get up ten minutes earlier," he replied so matter-o-factly I almost wanted to smack him. Not that I could take him in a fight, but still.

I cast a glance over to the couch. His single duffle bag, which appeared pretty much out of nowhere, last Saturday evening sat innocently on what I'd deemed his side of the couch. All packed and ready to go. I felt a pang of sadness, mostly because I'd miss him. Even though I'm fairly introverted I'm not one for being alone all the time. Eliot, like me, tended to read during quiet times. He didn't like my small library of books because they tended to lean toward science fiction and romance but he liked the news and he read my small stack of Rolling Stones magazines.

"I'm goin' to Port Authority in a couple of hours," he used a dish towel to dry his hands, eyes down instead of looking at me.

Apparently he'd gone and bought his ticket without even telling me. Nice. I wanted to scowl at him. Glare and be annoyed. Cross my arms over my chest and call him a douche for not telling me in advance. I'm not good with surprises and I'm worse with goodbyes. I bit back a sigh, but I'd regret it if I didn't at least go with him to say goodbye.

We'd gotten to be pretty good friends over the last week.

I looked down at my night clothes, the stripped blue and green socks, grey yoga pants, an old and well loved Decepticons t-shirt. Typically I didn't wear a bra this early in the morning but Eliot did not need to be graced with the size and weight of my girls braless so I started putting one on before I left the bedroom every morning. It seemed easier than accosting his eyes or making him feel uncomfortable.

"I better get changed if I'm going to go with you."

Turns out that in Eliot time a couple of hours actually worked out to about one hour and ten minutes. My hair wasn't even dry while we rode the subway into Manhattan. Despite the cooler weather above ground the subways were still stifling. I felt my hair frizzing even though I braided it and pinned it up. Silently I glared up at Eliot whose hair stayed perfectly straight despite the humidity.

Lucky bastard.

"So," I said as we waited on the will call line at the Grey Hound terminal upstairs, "you didn't tell me how you found me."

He didn't bat an eyelash, "You didn't change your name."

I felt my eyebrows go up of their own accord, "so you just Googled Faith Saint Cloud and figured one of the top three hits would be me?" When he didn't answer, "Come on Eliot, how'd you find me?"

"Your grandparents are good people."

"Naïve people," I said, "but yes, they are good."

He rolled one shoulder in a half shrug, "Your grandmother is worried that you don't call often enough. I agreed to check in on you and they gave me your address."

"And stalker follow me from my place to the market."

He shot me a dark look, "Should I have left you alone to fend off whatever his name was?"

The woman behind the counter called out for the next person before I could answer. Eliot stepped up, got his ticket and I hung out just to the side. He was right. I would rather not have had to deal with tall, dark and creepy even if he did turn out to be harmless. I hooked my thumbs in my pockets and watched him flirt effortlessly with the customer service rep. Wow. When he finally turned away, pocketing what looked like an extra slip of paper I gave him the raised eyebrows again.

Eliot gave me a devilish grin.

"You're getting her hopes up that you'll call," I warned as we walked through the small throng of people.

We headed down a couple of flights of stairs to an underground area with obnoxious orange tiles and wall paint that was probably supposed to represent the urban jungle that NYC is supposed to be. A line had already begun to form for Eliot's bus. I looked at the black and white list of stops for his trip. He still hadn't told me where he would be headed. He probably wouldn't.

I looked at him past the fall of my bangs.

It probably was better if I didn't know.

That didn't stop me from reading the list of places. Nothing in particular stood out. Names of places I'd heard of but never bothered going to. Some places I'd thought of getting to before I died if only for the historical aspects. I hear Baltimore city is full of brightly colored metallic fish standing tall and proud. I know Philadelphia is the birth place of liberty. I vaguely remember bugs bunny accidentally stopping over in a couple of these places.

I wondered how long he'd be gone.

I wondered if he would come back.

I didn't want to ask, just thinking about asking made me feel…well…clingy. Not a familiar feeling. Not pleasant either. I just, I don't know. I guess I didn't want to be alone again. Facing the fact that in about five to ten minutes Eliot would be gone and I'd be friendless in New York again was not fun. I busied myself playing with my cell phone, imagining that if I just separated myself from his presence mentally before it happened physically I might not be as upset by it.

The sound of the metal door separating the hallway from the bus terminal parking still shook me. I'll give myself credit for not jumping in surprise but not for much else. I waited with Eliot until he was two people from the door. Then I wanted to go. My feet were itching to head out of that place. The horrible orange tiles made me feel claustrophobic.

"I'm going to go," I told him in low tones.

He looked at me with hooded blue eyes. Completely unreadable, "You gonna be okay?"

No. I tried to force a smile but it didn't work. "Yeah."

He flicked hair away from his face in a motion I'd seen him make more and more often this week, "You need to learn to lie better."

My throat tightened, my chest constricting painfully. My eyes burned a little, "My only friend is leaving. What do you want me to say?"

Eliot shook his head slowly, almost sadly, "I'm not the kind of guy you should count as your friend Faye."

I rolled my shoulders, "Too late to tell me that." I jammed my phone into my front pocket harder than I needed to. I would bruise there later. It didn't matter. I gave Eliot as bright a smile as I could manage at the moment, which is to say it was more of a grimace pulled tightly over my teeth. I thought about hugging him goodbye. Then I dismissed the idea. I hadn't hugged him since last Saturday. I couldn't be sure he'd hug me back in any case. Last Saturday might have been a show to put off tall, dark and creepy.

He was next to last now. We stepped up together. The line shuffled in behind us.

"Start taking self defense classes," he told me evenly.

"Already started looking up places that teach Tae Kwon Do," I assured him.

"There's pepper spray in the top right drawer in the kitchen."

I wondered silently when and how he got it. Then I figured it didn't matter.

The guy in front of Eliot passed through the doorway to the parked bus. Eliot stepped up and handed the bus driver his ticket. The bus driver reviewed it for a moment.

I gave Eliot what I hoped would be a significant look, "Be careful." I wanted to say more but I couldn't. He nodded at me, gaze steady. Then he went through the doorway toward the bus.

I left the terminal with my shoulders hunched and my music blasting so loud in my ears that I could barely fathom thought. I made it all the way back to my apartment before I realized it. Insignificant in the detail but enormous when it came down to the little bits of string holding my fragile sanity together at that moment.

Mentally I went over the morning. Every word. Every action. No. Now that I thought actually thought about it, the words hadn't come out. They'd gone unspoken and unimplied. The realization brought a little smile to my face. I wound my head phones around my mp3 player and fished around in the drawer he'd spoken of for the pepper spray.

I felt better now that I knew he'd planned on coming back. How did I know he meant to? Very simply.

Neither of us actually said goodbye.

---

Four months. That's how long he was gone. Four months, three days.

I could say that with the promotion I received a month after he left and the friends I started making at work and in my Judo class I didn't have the time to notice how empty my apartment seemed. That would be a lie of course, but still, I could say it. I don't know why but the friends I did make didn't seem like much more than a few good acquaintances. I have never been very good at making and keeping friends in my life.

Andy being the best looking guy in my high school made it hard to have girlfriends. Girls either hated me because I was with him or they befriended me to see if they could steal him away. The two girls I managed to stay friends with through all four years of high school long ago decided to give up their dreams of college and moving away for families and a white picket fence. We grew apart.

I had a few people I kept in touch with via Facebook from college. They were all off being young and living life. Kathy Bates said it best while I watched Fried Green Tomatoes one night. I felt too old to be young and too young to be old.

After Eliot left I started calling my grandparents more often instead of my monthly check in. I promised to visit them when I started getting vacation and personal time. They asked me about the nice boy (being a year from thirty I didn't really count Eliot as a boy anymore, but apparently my grandparents [being in their seventies] still did) that had gone to see me. He'd called them from my apartment to let them know how I was. I didn't know if that made me want to smack him or thank him.

I received no phone calls from Eliot. No letters either. I did receive a post card from Germany a couple of days after my twenty second birthday. No return address, just a short scrawled happy birthday in his awkward script.

I was thinking of the post card when I went for my mail after work. The lobby to my building sat quiet, empty and a little too warm for late March. I left work early that day because the scratch at the back of my throat and random sneezing fits that left me with an aching head. Thinking that I might be coming down with something my boss sent me home and told me that I shouldn't come in until I felt better. Given that it was a Wednesday I debated taking him at his word and electing for a five day weekend of misery and sickness.

My stuffy nose agreed. I prayed silently that I wouldn't get a sinus infection.

I went high school retro with my music that day. The sounds of Korn's Falling Away from Me pounded into my ear drums. The doors of the elevator opened up to the hallway and there he was, a dark figure sitting on the floor next to my door. Back against the wall, duffle bag sitting innocently next to him. If I hadn't known him better I might have thought him asleep. I did know though. I also knew better than to sneak up on a trained soldier.

I pulled the buds from my ears and called out to him.

Eliot's bowed head came up immediately to expose old, sallow yellow bruises across his left cheek bone and up into his hair line along his temple. I watched him fight a wince of pain as he stood up. He tried to hide favoring one side.

"Jesus Eliot," my stuffy nose and slightly scratchy throat distorted the words a little. I touched the side of his face gingerly, fingers barely ghosting across warm skin. I was too afraid I'd hurt him to press any harder.

He looked at me, his brow furrowed for a moment, blue eyes looking down at me, "You sound like crap."

Tempted to be annoyed with him despite his obvious pain, "You look like crap." I moved past him and slid my key into the lock. "I hope the guy that did that to you looks worse." I don't think he meant for me to see his jaw tighten or the flex of his bruised and semi-scabbed knuckles. Whoever the unlucky soul had been on the receiving end of Eliot's hits probably wasn't alive to tell the tale anymore. Or they had an iron lung doing their breathing for them.

The knowledge should have scared me. It should have made Eliot scary to me.

Neither did which might have been terrifying on its own if I'd bothered to dwell on either.

I sat on my couch, his bed, with a very large cup of chamomile tea in my hands, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and another over my lap. I put a dreadful horror movie into my DVD player. I like watching bad movies with good looking guys in it when I'm sick. Even if Christian Slater has a receding hair line. So sue me.

Eliot stood in my kitchen brewing his grandmother's cure all rendition of chicken soup. He placed a twenty minute call to his sister to get the recipe. I felt like telling him he didn't have to, that this was going above and beyond the call of duty but hell that food smelled good.

About the time that Tara Reid's impersonation of an anthropologist started to irk me and the overly knowledgeable museum security guard overstepped the bounds of believable I was handed a bowl of the best smelling soup on earth. He had a sandwich and the last of my multigrain tortilla chips to go with his.

He caught me looking at him, scowled at me in return and said, "What?"

I pointedly looked at my chips, "I thought you had manners."

"You make me sit through this movie, I eat these. Fair trade."

"You're buying more tomorrow."

"Tomorrow you're not going to be able to talk let alone eat chips Faye."

Probably, but I still didn't like the sound of him munching on my snack foods. Next he'd be all over my stash of chocolate chip cookies or worse, my ice cream sandwiches. Heaven forbid. While contemplating how to get back at him I ate what I could of the soup. My throat didn't like swallowing but the heat helped relax the muscles. The sinking feeling in my stomach told me I wouldn't have a voice tomorrow. Hopefully it wouldn't be strep like last time. I did not like having to swallow those gigantic antibiotics.

The love scene hit started and I suddenly needed a distraction. Watching this with Eliot felt entirely inappropriate and kind of embarrassing.

"Thank you," my voice started to sound worse, rougher and less like me. I caught him looking at me, eyes off the screen and Christian Slater and a much too young for him Tara Reid stripping off each other's clothes.

"For calling your sister," I added. "For making the soup." For coming back. I left the words unsaid but hanging there. I don't know if he knew what I meant but I could hope he did.

I couldn't read the look on his face. His lips flattened for a moment and I thought he might blow me off. My fingers dug into my cup of their own accord.

"You're welcome Faye," he said.

I offered him a weak, watery smile and sipped my cool tea.

The next day I woke at almost five in the morning according to the bleary red lights on my clock. I felt like my throat was filled with razor blades, broken glass and barbed wire. I don't think I could have talked at that point. I climbed out of bed I didn't want to get Eliot sick so I didn't touch more than I had to. I grabbed the bottle of Nyquil from the bathroom and slunk back to my room. I took the medicine and curled myself under the blankets, covered my head with the sheets and tried to disappear into the darkness.

Fever dreams came. Parts of the movie replaying as if I were actually still watching it. The monster, as CGI as it was on the television screen looked horrifying and far too realistic. I woke right before it reached its scaly hand through the flat screen and tried to claw me to ribbons. My throat still hurt like someone scratched the soft tissue up with rusty nails and my heart beat out an erratic beat from the fear and adrenaline of my dream.

When the nausea hit I dragged myself out of bed just long enough to move my waste basket from the bathroom to the side of my bed. I'd only been asleep three hours. I didn't hear Eliot moving around the apartment at all. I made it back to my bed in time to pass out.

More fever dreams. I took Andy on a cup cake tour of the Village. He loved the little tie-dye ones from Baked by Melissa. He talked about moving in with me when he left the service. When I woke up I expected him to be there, curled up next to me like he always did. He would wrap his arms around me and help me sweat the bug out. I grabbed the cool glass of apple juice on the night stand and swallowed it despite how uncomfortably it went down. Andy always knew to give me apple juice. It doesn't burn like orange juice if it has to come back up.

I pulled the blankets back over my head and made myself sleep again. In my dream Andy came to the side of my bed carrying another cold glass of apple juice and more Nyquil. This time the liquid didn't hurt as much. The pills weren't pleasant to swallow but again, didn't hurt as much as it had the first time. "I miss you sometimes." My dream voice sounded awful, like I'd actually been swallowing razor blades.

His dream self didn't say anything.

"I do." I grabbed his hand and laced my fingers through his, "I hate that you're gone. I wish you would just come back. Every day I think about you." My eyes welled with tears, "I loved you so much Andy."

Andy gently removed his hand from mine and pressed it to my forehead. He shook his head slowly and softly told me I wouldn't remember this later. I gave him a weak smile, closed my eyes and turned over to leave him behind in dream world.

The next time I woke up the garbage can from the bathroom was gone. My head felt a little spinny when I sat up, but my throat felt better. Being able to breathe in through my nose felt like a novelty after all day of sleeping. I blinked at my clock. A little past midnight. Sometime during the day Eliot must have had the courtesy to deposit my slippers next to my side of the bed. They felt warm and fuzzy against my cold feet. After shuffling myself into the bathroom to rinse my mouth and brush my teeth I wrapped my arms around myself and headed out into the kitchen/living room area to find my unofficial roomie.

I found him sitting at the island counter eating some incredible smelling pasta. My stomach rumbled loudly in demand for sustenance.

He glanced at the time on the microwave's clock, "Morning."

I gave him a self deprecating, wry smile, "What a way to spend a Thursday."

"And Friday."

I blinked at him, "What?"

"It's Saturday Faye."

My stomach grumbled again, the sides rubbing against one another almost painfully. I settled into the seat across from him and let the idea that I'd been out two days sink in. "I lost two days?" I sounded almost shocked even though it wouldn't have been the first time. When I had pneumonia about ten years ago I lost four days. My immune system isn't the greatest. Genetic flaw or so I'm told.

He set a small plate of food in front of me and a glass of ginger ale. "Eat slow," he warned before taking his seat again.

Once the spaghetti was gone I felt even better. "I'm a shitty hostess."

Eliot snorted, "You were plannin' on getting sick?"

"No of course not," I reached upward, stretching my muscles out. It felt good, really good. I think a soft sigh escaped my lips while I did. When I came back down I caught him watching me with an expression I couldn't place. He turned away from me before I could try to figure it out. I touched my hair wondering if it started to stick up because of how greasy I'm sure it had to be. I mean, it looked okay in the mirror in the bathroom but…

"So," I said when he grabbed my plate and put it in the sink. "When are you leaving again?"

For a millisecond his shoulders tensed then the tension was gone. Honestly I couldn't actually say it wasn't a trick of my eyes or just in my head. I'm not even sure it happened but I thought I saw it.

"In a few days," he sounded so tired when he said it. Like he didn't want to.

I offered him an understanding smile, "It'll be okay Eliot."

He shook his head, "You don't know what I've been doing Faye."

I could guess. I could imagine. I got up and went to him; I hugged him even though he didn't hug me back. "It'll be okay." I could tell myself the people he hurt deserved it but deep down I don't know if I actually believed it. "Your contract with them can't last much longer, right?"

Eliot pushed me back by my shoulders and stared at me long and hard.

I raised my eyebrows at him as if to ask how stupid he thought I actually was.

He laughed a low, almost self loathing laugh, "He didn't tell me how damn smart you are."

I shrugged, "Andy loved my brain. He pushed me to go to college you know."

"A couple more months," he told me, "and I'm out."

"Then what?"

"I don't know," he replied.

"You'll figure it out." Then I hugged him again.

This time he hugged me back.

What should have only been a couple of months turned into three, and then four. By the time he had been gone five months I decided to stop counting and resigned myself to the fact that Eliot would come back when he wanted to. Or when he could. August came and went and so did the world as it revolved without too much of my participation.

My period of mourning for my husband ended the moment I mentioned to a coworker I thought the FedEx delivery guy was kind of cute.

Friends, better friends now that I decided to give them all a chance, started trying to get me to meet new people. Various people set me up on a series of blind dates between June and September. Some of them I knew about and reluctantly agreed to if only to get the badgering to stop. Others were 'accidental' meetings set up by some very sneaky would be match makers.

I knew I was being none too gently encouraged to get back on the horse.

Personally I wanted to send the horse running in the other direction most of the time.

The guy sitting next to me in the driver's seat of an ugly yellow SUV gave me a slow, sly smile. The kind I thought only existed in Lifetime and B horror movies right before someone got date raped or murdered. That smile said he expected something to happen. After he looked at me like that I regretted not doing what I thought about doing when he picked me up that evening. I should have ganked the s.o.b's wallet when I had the chance.

He leaned over the handbrake with that slimy expression on his face. "So," his breath smelled to high heaven of the oysters he slurped down at dinner. "I think Andrea had the right idea with you and me."

I guess it didn't matter to him that we had noting, I mean absolutely nothing in common. I felt like asking him if he'd spent enough time watching reality television or if our date kept him from getting the gel in his hair just right. I'll admit to being a little bitter right then because he pissed me off in more way than one.

First he sat outside my building in his bright yellow SUV and called my cell phone from downstairs to let me know he was there. Second he made me remove my heels when I got in the car because he didn't want me messing up his upholstery. While we were at dinner he made thinly veiled comments about everything I ordered and the fat content of everything in my meal. Then he told me how his fitness instructor could help me lose those excess pounds. To add insult to injury he believed he would get into my pants.

I wished I'd stolen a knife from the restaurant. I'd have stabbed him with it.

I lamented leaving Eliot's pepper spray in my other purse.

His hand landed on my thigh, squeezing a little through the gauzy material of my skirt. He gave me that one sided smirk again compounded with a slow and lazy stroll of his eyes from my toes to my breasts. His gaze held this irritating cocky spark. As if he knew something I didn't know. Then the prick had the audacity to wink at me.

Andrea warned me this guy had some rough edges and he needed the right girl to smooth them out. I would have loved to. With a sledgehammer to the skull. Lights out. Problem solved. No jury in the world would convict me.

I put my hand over his and gave him a smile so fake it hurt my cheeks just forming it. I linked my fingers on top of his and when he leaned in for a kiss I snapped his wrist back until I felt bone grind against bone. He yowled out a sound that might not have been entirely human and pulled back fast. I took that opportunity to climb out of his ugly, showy, overcompensating SUV and slammed the door in his face.

"Disgusting," I muttered, "horrible…" there just weren't words in the English language to describe how awful that guy had been. I couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't insult the animals that came to mind for comparison sake. Honestly I would have rather dated a pig or a snake. At least then I would have known what to expect!

I texted Andrea with a not too polite message that if she ever set that jerk up with anyone else she'd could expect to be called to the morgue to identify a body. Then I shut my phone off so I wouldn't have to deal with the crap storm of texts of 'why what did he do?' and 'omg was it that bad?' from her.

I tried not to take my anger out on my front door but my heels were killing my ankles and my feet. Why did I let myself get talked into buying stilettos? Christ, I would have worn flats but my date was supposedly six two at least. More like five foot five. What he lacked in height he made up for in sheer stupidity.

After flipping on the lights I took a look at myself in the mirror by the door left over from the last tenant. I looked great but most of that handiwork I couldn't claim. Sarah, a girl from my Judo class, came over and did my make up for the night while I curled my hair. Her beauty school degree didn't do much for her in the world but she was a magician with her makeup brushes. The lavender and grey smokey eyes she gave me off set the buttery soft violet silk blouse I'd donned. She decorated me with bronzer in strategic, almost undetectable spots. While I looked almost like I wasn't wearing blush at all but I knew my cheeks were not always that soft glowing pink. The lip gloss made my mouth look all kinds of pouty and sultry.

Washing all of her hard work off would have been criminal. I thought about going back out and doing something but I really, really didn't want to. Not alone anyway. I began pulling pins from my hair as I walked further into my apartment. I shook out the artfully upswept curls until they fell in a messy bunch down my back and around my shoulders. I'd used enough products to ensure they would not start falling apart any time soon.

I made it a few more steps into my place before I noticed the empty plate sitting in the dish rack and the blue post it sitting innocuously on the island counter. I cast about and found his black and green duffel bag next to the couch. I couldn't help the genuine sense of happiness that came over me. He actually used the key I gave him last time after all his protesting that it wouldn't be a good idea.

I grabbed the note scrawled quickly in his script.

Groceries. You need to shop more.

Back in 20.

A moment after I crumpled the paper and tossed it in the garbage the door opened. His hair had been cut a little, now angled to frame his face better. I thought I caught a glimmer of blonde intermixed with his normally dark head of hair.

"Eliot, did you get highlights?"

He turned his head toward me, exposing wire rimmed glasses I'd never seen before. His brilliant grin faltered a little when he looked at me. I swallowed hard. Now that look, that is the look a woman wants from a man. That slow almost wanton appraisal generates its own warmth and leaves a woman half tipsy without ever touching a drink.

The thrill of getting that look from him of all people felt like crossing a line that I wasn't sure I minded crossing.

Eliot dropped the grocery bags on the counter and hugged me tightly. "Hey," his breath disturbed the fine hairs by my ears. I'm sure he felt the faint shiver that traveled down my spine.

The heels added the handful of inches between our height differences. When he pulled back we were almost eye to eye. Something beside the hair cut and the highlights had changed. There was a new light in his blue eyes that hasn't been there in March. I grabbed a few strands of his hair and held it up between us.

"Blonde?"

He gave me a playful scowl, "I'm growing it out."

"Uh huh," I rolled my eyes heavenward while my lips tried not to curve into a smile. Neither of us stepped apart. There were mere inches of space and yet I didn't feel uncomfortable. He smelled like old spice, soap and shampoo.

He gave me a crooked grin and a partially raised eyebrow when he began putting away the groceries he picked up, "How was the date?"

I glowered at him, "How did you know I went on a date? Are you stalking me again?"

Eliot shook his head and jerked his chin toward the answering machine with its single red light. "Andrea wants you to call her when you're home." He pointedly looked at the clock on the microwave, "and she hopes you don't come home too early."

I glanced at the clock as well. Eight fifteen on the dot. "He tried to feel me up," I said in answer to his previous question while peeking into one of the bags. The slamming of a very heavy carton of my favorite ice cream brought my attention back to Eliot.

He growled.

I gave him a wickedly conspiratorial smile, "Don't worry; I broke his hand." I liked the way his eyes refocused suddenly on my mouth. Places inside me that hadn't been alive for what seemed like forever woke up to do little fluttering back flips.

I flopped into one of the bar stool esque chairs I managed to acquire recently. I put my feet up because even just resting they still ached a little. Legs crossed at the ankles to relieve the pressure. I watched him put away half a dozen different items without having to ask me where anything went. It only struck me after he'd put away the first two plastic bags that Eliot didn't have any spectacular skills in the cooking department.

I peeked into the last bag while he put away the third bag, "So who is going to do all this cooking?"

He stopped for a moment shooting me a cocky, crooked grin. "Who do you think?"

"You're dreaming," I told him. "I'm not cooking for you tonight. I already ate. You're shelling out for take out."

"I'm cooking Faye," he almost sounded like he was scolding me.

My eyebrows rose of their own accord. "I think I heard that wrong. Repeat that?"

"I. Am. Cooking."

"Um, Eliot," the idea of letting him near my stove for anything other than breakfast made me cringe. "I don't know how to break it to you old buddy, old pal but you kinda suck at making dinner foods. Even your lunch menu is limited." To sandwiches and reheatable soups.

He pointed one finger at me, "Wait until tomorrow."

I feared for my stomach. The last time I had indigestion bad enough to empty my Pepto Bismol bottle. He was just about done putting the groceries away, his back to me. I stretched out across the table, my head lying on my arm, my hair falling around me. I began playing with the edge of the one of the plastic bags.

"This kind of sucks," I said to his back.

He cast a glance at me from over his left shoulder, "What sucks?"

I indicated my outfit with a grand gesture of my hand, "I spent thirty minutes on my hair. I practically begged Sarah to come over and do my makeup. Together we probably spent another forty minutes plowing through my pitiful excuse for a wardrobe to find this outfit. And what happens?" I tossed my hands up, "The jerk I go out with isn't even worth the effort!"

Eliot shook his head, laughing in that low rumbling, and throaty laugh of his.

"You laugh but you have no idea how many dates I've been on lately, okay." I held up my fingers while I counted off the problems, "The first guy I went out with got a phone call from his momma while we were at dinner. Which is nice, right, if she only calls the once. Did she call once? No, his momma kept calling him. Twelve times in two hours. She wanted to talk to me and tell me what a good sweet boy her little Timmy was and how she knew people who knew people so I'd better not break his blessed heart.

"Then we've got Bozo the clown. He kept playing these stupid little practical jokes on me. All. Night. Long. I kept waiting for him to pull out the hand buzzer. He put on those ugly, fake wax lips when he dropped me off at my place and actually expected me to kiss him!

"Oh, okay, how can I forget the pervert? He picks me up, takes me back to his place and who is waiting there? His girlfriend. She thought he finally found someone to have a three way with them."

Arms crossed over his chest, watching me with his head slightly bowed, his warm blue eyes full of mirth. He chuckled in low tones, the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. Framed by my kitchen, my home, Eliot looked almost as if he belonged here. It felt as if we'd been doing this forever even though we hadn't.

We hadn't. So why did it feel like had?

"Take me out."

The light behind his eyes came back, "where?"

I stood up, my palms tingling, my stomach doing back flips. My feet didn't hurt anymore though I knew they should have. It didn't matter. "Anywhere, doesn't matter. Let's just go."

I insisted on flagging down the cab we took back to my place. Eliot's hands weren't really in any condition to be waving about in the air right then. He gritted his teeth and flexed the broken, bruising skin of his knuckles. I expected a rebuke any moment. Technically his pain was my fault. And the fault of the grabby guy I agreed to dance with even though Eliot had been giving me very clear 'do not do it' signals. Of course I ignored his subtle warnings. Now I felt guilty and his anger was still seething.

Thankfully a cab pulled over quickly enough. We piled in; I gave the cabby my address and tried to look as contrite as I felt.

I knew I shouldn't have ignored his warning. I knew it but my head wasn't on straight.

At some point during our evening out my mind chose to connect a ridiculous amount of dots while dropping an atomic bomb in the pit of my stomach. Thinking about it again made my nerve endings exploded into billions of tiny fluttering butterflies and sent my heartbeat into a galloping horse race.

I could not possibly have a crush on my best and only real friend. I couldn't.

From the corner of one eye I watched Eliot flex his right hand again.

My dancing partner, a guy with big, melted chocolate eyes and warm skin seemed nice at first. He seemed courteous, even respectful. He kept his hands above my waist at all times, he listened to me talk, nodding and acting like he was listening. Then the music changed and I tried to go back to my seat. I thanked him for the dance. He wouldn't let my hand go and pulled me back to him. At first I thought he was being funny, cute even, so I went along with it.

Then he started to grind against me with an erection pressing into my hip. I tried to pull away but he tightened his grip on my wrist until it hurt. Before my Judo class I hadn't known you could break someone's grip if you turn against their thumb. It's the weakest point in the hand. The guy dropped my wrist. I walked back to the bar; back to where Eliot sat there with hooded blue eyes and muscles just a little too tense.

That's when my former dance partner made the mistake of calling me a cock tease.

At first Eliot asked him politely to apologize. I'd never heard his voice so quiet and even before. That kind of calm in him should have scared me, I realized later. It didn't, but it should have because it meant he was really, really angry. When the guy that asked me to dance called me a cunt, Eliot never lost it. He smiled at the guy in a way that shook me to my core and said in that level, calm tone, 'thank you'. Then he grabbed the guy's shirt and slammed his fist into the guy's face so hard I thought I heard something snap.

Eliot only hit him three times, just three but the blood coming from the guy's mouth and the way he dropped told me he wouldn't be getting up in the next few minutes. The guy's friends, who had been looking as if they might come to his rescue hung out in a semi circle, none of them taking those handful of steps toward Eliot. Not after their friend hit the floor. I saw it right then, the violence in Eliot that Andy told me about. His expression looked too… satisfied. He looked like he couldn't wait to take on the other four.

"We gonna do this?" He rumbled and I could almost hear the pleasure in his voice when he addressed the four other men.

Logic told me that the shiver running down my spine should be terror, not excitement. Dots connected and I realized with a sort of twisted irony that I had a crush on my best friend. The guy who was there for me through a shit storm, the guy who'd played my protector and who clearly enjoyed hurting people. The thrum of exhilaration that went through me and into the deep, dark parts of me sent me over the deep end. I rounded the bend of never coming back from whatever it was building between us.

"Eliot," I licked my dry lips, "it's not a fair fight."

He cast a glance at me, a dark violence on his face, eyebrow cocked at me.

I tried to play it cool, hoping my voice wasn't shaking. "There are only four of them."

The disturbingly menacing smile he directed at me made my body tighten in places that hadn't felt warmth in a long time. I knew the malice wasn't for me, but for them. To scare them. To egg them into it. He wanted to teach them a lesson with his fists and if I wasn't afraid of the people on their phones ready to call the cops I might have let him.

I picked his jacket up off the back of the chair, "Let's go before you put these jokers in the hospital."

He didn't say anything. He took his jacket silently, blue eyes still on the one closet to him. "Teach your boy some manners," he said, put his good hand on my lower back and ushered me out the door.

We left the bar and made it about a block before I managed to flag down the cab.

I wanted to ask if he was okay but I didn't trust my own voice.

The guilt clawed at me a little. Guilt from not listening to him. Guilt from wanting him as more than just a friend after everything he'd done for me. Guilt for being turned on when I should have been terrified.

I unwound the soft cotton scarf from my neck and gently wrapped it around his right hand. "I'm sorry," I barely heard my own voice over the sound of the rolling tires, the traffic, the sound of the cabby's radio and Eliot's breathing. "I'm sorry," I repeated, apologizing for the things he knew nothing about. Apologizing for the things going on in my head. I felt like such a fuck up.

He didn't say anything; just let me wind the material around his hand. After I finished he wrapped one arm around my shoulders and let me rest my head on his shoulder. I could hear the thunder of his heart beat. I closed my eyes and listened to it, listened to him breathe in and out rhythmically.

Eliot paid the cabby with a twenty and told him to keep the change.

My feet were killing me by the time we made it into the lobby. I wobbled on my stilettos and had to use the wall to steady myself. I heard him chuckling at me while we waited for the elevator.

"Let's see how you walk in these after six hours."

He shook his head, "I'm not as drunk as you are sweetheart."

My heart skipped a beat at the endearment. I licked my lower lip and watched his eyes drop from mine to my lips. "I'm not drunk Eliot. I had three glasses of wine."

The elevator dinged and the door opened letting out several provocatively dressed young women. Younger than me. A couple of them gave Eliot an appraising, appreciative once overs. Jealousy stabbed viciously at my insides when he sent one of them an invitational, flirtatious smile. Before she broke eye contact with him I pushed up that single inch of space between our heights and planted a single, damp kiss against his slightly scruffy jaw bone, inches from his mouth.

Eliot's head snapped my way faster than I'd thought it might. He almost hit my nose with his chin. His eyes were wide, almost disbelieving. I looked back at him, my head tilted to the side, the corners of my mouth curling upward on their own slowly. I felt shy now, and I hoped he could tell that I was in foreign territory. I'd never, never been the first to make a move before and I knew I'd fail miserably at it if I tried.

Always the seduced, never the seducer.

The room seemed to echo with tension for eternity before the ding of the elevator door closing sounded. His hand shot out to stop it from sliding shut and going back up. He ticked his head to the side, his voice a little rougher than usual, "Get in."

I did as told. He stabbed the button for my floor with vehement pressure. Then he put about a foot of space between us. I did not like that. So I leaned to the side and held onto his shoulder, laughing a bit. I kicked up one leg, my fingers going to ease the pressure on my feet while I leaned against him for support. "I can't wait to get these things off."

His arm went around my waist to hold me up. Everywhere he touched me I felt electricity.

I felt his muscles tense through his thick, thermal sweater. I liked the way he looked in it. The way it clung to muscles that made me feel safe while I knew the damage they could do. It was thrilling to be this close to him.

If I hadn't looked up at that exact moment I might have missed it. I might have missed the look on his face, the pained desire completely blatant. He wound one of my curls around one of his fingers silently. His forehead drew together while he looked down at me, a war going on behind his eyes. He watched me like he was torn between doing something and pushing me away. The idea that even he had his limits occurred to me right then.

I bit down on my lower lip, and whispered roughly, "Eliot?"

"Fuck it," he growled.

My back nearly slammed against the faux wood wall of the elevator when he pushed me against it. One of his arms saved my back, dragging my hips forward until I could feel exactly what temptation had done to him. His mouth came crashing down on mine in a violent collision of lips, teeth and tongue. I barely had a chance to breathe before his tongue swept its way into my mouth, plundering until all I could do was moan and kiss him back for all I was worth. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, sucking on his tongue until he groaned wantonly and pressed me hard against the wall. I put it all into that kiss, everything I wanted and everything I wanted to happen. Everything I felt.

When he pulled back I wasn't the only one feeling dazed.

The elevator doors dinging open brought cold reality back to the forefront.

He pulled away like I'd hurt him, "You're drunk Faye."

I glared at him, "I'm not drunk Eliot."

He gave me a pointed look, "Walk a straight line."

"Have you noticed I can barely walk properly in the first place in these?"

He didn't answer. Instead he walked to the door to my apartment and unlocked it. He held it open for me. I did not like the crease between his eyebrows.

"Stop thinking about this," I snapped at him, utterly frustrated with his hot and cold routine. "Stop it. Just stop."

He said nothing. He went around the island counter and grabbed bottled water from the refrigerator. He put it on the counter between us, "You're going to regret this in the morning Faye."

I planted my hands on the counter, leaned forward a little; fairly certain the unbuttoned part of my shirt showed a little cleavage. "No, I won't."

I caught his eyes drop from my face to the v created by the top two buttons of my blouse. When his baby blues came back to my steel greys he grabbed the water and took a sip, "You don't know what I've done Faye." It was barely more than a whisper but I heard it.

"The hell I don't." I'd guessed a while ago.

He wouldn't look at me.

I thought about throwing in the towel, giving up on this for the night. But he could be gone in the morning. Knowing him he might leave just because of this. I did not want that. That kiss in the elevator said he wanted me more than he was letting on right now. I wondered if he was as close to the edge as I was at the moment. I watched him from beneath my lashes. He dragged one hand through his hair.

"Fine," I whispered. "Fine, Eliot. But I'm not the one that's going to regret this. Tomorrow," I told him, "tomorrow I'm still going to compare every guy I meet to you. I'm still going to love the way your voice makes me feel. I'm still going to miss you when you're gone." I stepped out of my stilettos, watching those hooded eyes. "You're the one that's going to regret not coming with me." I let the heat of what I wanted slip into my gaze. "Now watch me walk away from you just like Amiee."

I didn't look over my shoulder at him, but I felt his eyes on my back until I closed the door to the bathroom behind me. I ignored the slamming of things in my kitchen while I took off my makeup and showered. The quiet while I combed my hair and brushed my teeth unnerved me. Did I push too hard? Did he leave? Panic started deep in my chest, maybe throwing his former girlfriend, the girl he loved and left, back in his face crossed the line.

The soft, almost rhythmic creaking of floorboards elsewhere in my apartment a few moments later told me he hadn't gone.

It took me almost two minutes after I finished brushing my teeth to work up the nerve to walk out of the bathroom and into the dark of my bedroom. He didn't stop me, I didn't even see him. I stepped into the bedroom ready to close the door behind me when something occurred to me. If I was listening for him, maybe he was listening for me too. I left the door cracked open a couple of inches. The nervous thready beat of my pulse had my hands shaking while I changed out of my towel and began to pull on the slinky, Victoria Secret silk slip a coworker had gifted to me when I started dating again.

I felt the air shift and change around me when the door to the bedroom opened. The slip fell around my upper thighs a breath later. I looked up at him, a dark figure standing in the doorway backlit by the hallway light. My heart beat thundered in my chest while the rush of my blood roared in my ears.

Now or never.

"Shut the door behind you."

With that handful of words my bravado and the resolve I'd been sporting were spent. My knees threatened to turn into jell-o, my hands traded their previous tremors for toying with the soft lacey edges of the slip. I told my lungs to breathe evenly while my heart pounded out an erratic beat that spoke both about trepidation and a primal hunger that left me almost dazed. Anticipation made my fingertips tingle and lower parts of me tighten until my whole began to ache.

He flicked off the light in the hallway and closed the bedroom door behind him. The darkness that enveloped us felt almost solid and tangible as I listened to his bare feet pad across the room. Instead of grabbing me by the arms and kissing me senseless like I expected, I felt the heat of his body bypass me. My heart dropped into my stomach and humiliated panic threatened to set in. Then the bastard turned on the lamp next to my bed to illuminate the room in a soft ivory glow that dissipated into the shadows.

Skin flushed, more from embarrassment right then than anything else, I watched him standing there next to my bed. He must have changed while I was in the shower. Gone were the dark, stone washed jeans and the blue-gray thermal sweater that made his eyes twinkle and dance the way only blue eyes can. The light illuminated the plain white t-shirt he changed into, casting shadows in various shades of grey across the material. On his hips were sweat pants black and softer than cotton had any right to be.

The nervousness took over what was left of my confidence when he didn't say anything. He stared at the wall, or maybe the lamp or maybe his eyes were just closed. I don't know. It seemed like forever while he stood there unmoving, not speaking. I watched him, waiting. I wanted to say something but I refrained from spoiling the quiet moment. Instead I took whispering steps toward his broad back and pressed myself against him. I lay my cheek against the flat of his spine and wrapped my arms around his waist. His heart beat out a rhythm that nearly matched my own.

"This is wrong," he said, his voice low, rough and tinged with self-loathing.

I pressed a kiss to the middle of his back, my lips moving against the warm fabric of his t-shirt, "Why?"

His head shook slowly, "He asked me to watch out for you not…" His muscles tensed beneath my touch. One of his hands went over mine on his stomach.

There were a dozen things I could, or maybe should have said to him to ease his conscience. I kissed his back again, this time one shoulder blade and then the other. He didn't move. He didn't shake me off. "I was there, I remember. That doesn't mean this is wrong."

That made him move. He broke free of me and turned around, blue eyes searching mine in the dim light. "What do you mean you were there?"

I gathered what I could of my frazzled nerves, pieced together what was left of my courage and took a huge dose of daring. I reached out and grabbed some of his t-shirt in both hands and tried to tug him closer. He wouldn't budge. His hands found my shoulders, squeezing just enough.

"Faye," he said, his voice still a little rough, a little shaky.

I sighed knowing he wouldn't let it go until I told him. "I was standing on the second floor landing behind where the banister gives way to the wall. I heard it all." I shook my head, "Andy shouldn't have done that. He should never have put you in that kind of spot." Then I looked up at him, trying to read what was going on behind those beautiful blue eyes of his. I reached up hoping he wouldn't stop me, going slowly enough so that he could if he wanted to. His grip on my right arm loosened just enough to allow me to maneuver. Gently, ever so carefully I touched the faded scar over his lip. "I'm glad he did. I couldn't imagine having gotten through without you Eliot. I can't imagine my life now without you. You're my best friend." Looking down shyly, "And I hope, maybe, we can be more."

His hands slipped from my shoulders to my waist, fingers curling until they gripped me just shy of painful. He didn't move. His breathing became a shallow whisper against the skin of my wrist. Blue eyes closed as my fingertips ghosted over the warmth of his cheek, exploring the difference between our skins. His eyelashes fluttered as I outlined the shape of each of his eyes. His brow tightened briefly as my fingers found their way across forehead. When I came back down to his jaw the muscles beneath his skin constricted until I was sure Eliot was gritting his teeth. His lips were in a firm, almost flat line.

Gingerly, so that he could have stopped me, I traced the shape of his lips until they fell open in a soft breath against my thumb. He head fell forward just a little as I trailed across and down his scruffy jaw to the nearly burning skin of his neck. His breathing changed at the same time his pulse jumped. The knowledge that I did that to him sent my insides spinning with heady thrums of want. As much as I wanted to explore his body like this I wanted a kiss more. Just watching as he breathed with his lips partially open…

I slid my hand to the back of his neck and tried to tug him down. Blue eyes burning with emotions so hot I smoldered just meeting his gaze. Hands went from my waist to my hips, dragging me into him, body curving over me, gorgeous hair framing his face. I lost my breath as the thickness in his pants pressed heavily against the soft flesh of my stomach. One of the hands on my hips tightened, his thumb stroking in maddening little circles, sparked trails of fire that spread rapidly across my skin. He gazed into my eyes, powerful frame radiating hunger, heat and desire so intense I sagged against him.

"Eliot," I managed his name because my mind was about to give up on me.

Then he tilted his head and pressed his mouth to mine. The pure tenderness of his soft lips against mine shocked me. Knowing the level of violence he was capable of, and with what I'd seen him do I didn't expect such gentleness when he kissed me. Eliot held me ever so carefully, as if I might have been made of spun glass and he was afraid of shattering me.

My heart jumped into my throat. I kissed him back, doing what I'd wanted to do for hours now. I buried my fingers in his long locks, pressed up on the tips of my toes and opened my mouth to him. His tongue swept past my lips, teasing as he pressed harder against me. The fire that had begun to build between us turned liquid in almost an instant. I found myself on the bed, his blunt fingers pushing up the hem of my flimsy excuse for clothing while his tongue in my mouth informed me of exactly what he planned to do.

I sighed his name when he pressed one finger into me. As slippery as I could be, it had also been two years since I'd had that kind of work out. He made a sound at the back of his throat that could only be described as pleased. His masculine resonance of triumph sent my insides clenching around his questing digit. His mouth tore from mine for a franticly murmured oath.

"Easy sweetheart," Eliot's strained, lust filled voice touched my skin like warm velvet, "relax for me. I don't want to hurt you."

I ended up giggling and tugging him down to kiss me. Our open mouths slid desperately across one another. I felt like a virgin in a romance novel with my first lover preparing me for a night of orgasmic bliss before the fall out our relationship would cause. I nipped at his lower lip, gripping his hair while my hips undulated in time to the rhythm his fingers set between my legs. I would never have described his hands as masterful before then, but his thumb knew the intimacies of my nethers like I'd never experienced.

Then again, I'd only been with one other man in all my life.

When he pressed a second finger into me pain threatened but didn't quite catch. He hovered over me, blue eyes watching to make sure I could take it. I lifted my hips in response because I didn't really care if it hurt at that point. I just wanted him inside me. My eyes closed, my back arcing upward of its own accord, fingers no longer buried in his hair but clawing at the sheets. Still his thumb toyed with the sensitive nub at the apex of my thighs while his fingers danced inside me holding me just there. At the edge but not quite over it.

A litany of the word please began to fall from my lips.

I wasn't sure what I was asking for I was so out of my mind. Maybe for the damn orgasm those talented fingers were promising but had yet to deliver. I might have been asking for him to just slide inside me already and give me what we both had been wanting for I don't know how long. Maybe for him to just put me out of my misery because I just couldn't take much more.

Then he kissed me. Hard. Teeth clashed, tongues dueled and his fingers slid out of me leaving a sharp ache for him at their loss. One of his arms wrapped around my waist to pull me up, slide me into his lap. I hadn't even realized he was kneeling on the bed until that moment. I straddled him wantonly, feeling his erection hard and thick between us.

"Too many clothes," I murmured, tugging at his t-shirt until he had to let go of me, arms over his head while I peeled the clothing off him. I leaned into his bare chest, licking and nipping where I could. Drawing growling sounds from him that had my insides quaking with pure desire. Blue eyes, dark with hunger stared down at me when I tossed his shirt off the side of the bed. I made certain that he watched when I took the hem of my slip in my hands and slid it upward until I tugged it free of my hair. It dropped when he crushed his mouth against mine once again.

We both fumbled with the tied knot in the draw string to his sweats, fingers tangling until we were both laughing. I flopped back on the bed then, waiting with what I hoped was a sexy come hither expression. He climbed off the bed and pulled free a little foil packet. Eliot tossed it to me then shoved his pants down.

My mouth went bone dry. Three fingers might have added up to well…that, but hell two sure was not enough. I think I had the grace to blush. He must have liked it because the next moment he was on top of me again, kneeling between my legs, nudging me open until I felt bare to his gaze. I felt my whole body tighten and tingle when he looked down at me like that. Like he could devour me whole and still not have had enough. He ripped into the foil with his teeth and rolled the latex on with the kind of practice I should have been more worried about.

Then he pulled me into his lap again, acting as if I weighed nothing. Which I found incredibly sexy. I felt the thickness of him sliding back and forth between my nether lips and wiggled a little to get him to just slide in.

"Faye," he murmured my name in a husky whisper that had me desperate and clenching. "Look at me sweetheart, look at me."

I did as he asked, meeting his passionate gaze. The fingers of his left hand went into my hair, cupping the back of my skull while his other arm wrapped around my waist. Then I felt him, the rounded head pressing upward and I shook, clawing at his back, a keening sound in my throat. He pressed his forehead against mine, our eyes still locked until he was fully seated inside me. He hissed out a breath as I gasped at the sensation of fullness.

I felt my inner muscles flutter around his length.

Eliot growled, low and just shy of threatening into the air between us, "You're going to make me come."

I ran my tongue along the seam of his lips, whispering wetly, "I thought that was the point cowboy."

The devilish grin he gave me in return only added to the heat of the moment. His hips began rolling in shallow thrusts that had me drawing in sharp breaths. I had to grab his shoulders, holding on for dear life and sanity as he rocked upward into me. I found the rhythm, matching his upstroke to my down. I loved the way his muscles worked and bunched, the way his arm tightened around me, his panting breaths and our sweat slicked skin.

Everything felt like too much. I closed my eyes drawing his movements and mine into sharp focus. He kissed me again, moaning my name with a harsh need in his voice. I'd been pushing him all night and now it seemed to be paying off. His thrusts became wild, rapid, his face pressed into the crook of my neck, breath hot and moist on my skin. The hand in my hair let go to slip between us.

The instant his talented thumb brushed over my clit I climaxed in a rush that had me screaming into his neck. I clawed at him, his name falling again and again from my lips. Three, four more frantic thrusts and I felt him pulse inside me, moan against my skin. Boneless he let me slip down and fall on the bed. He stood up, semi-hard and took care of the condom. By the time he returned to the bedroom I'd managed to clean myself up enough not to be embarrassed. I'd turned down the sheets and climbed beneath them.

Normally I didn't sleep naked, but with him I wanted less between us in case…well…

He didn't ask if he would be sleeping with me, he pulled on his sweatpants again and joined me in the bed. Eliot pulled me against his side, kissing me slowly with a reverence that took my breath away.

"Can we do that again tomorrow?"

He cast a glance at the clock on the nightstand. "Sweetheart, I'm not waiting another twenty four hours to be inside you again." His arms tightened around me, lips brushing over mine gently. "Now that I've got you I'm not letting go."

I smiled into his skin, "Ditto."

When he said he didn't want to wait until tomorrow I thought he might have been joking. I thought he'd at least wait until I got a decent night's sleep. I woke up to truly earth-shattering orgasmic sex sometime around dawn. Then he let me sleep again. The second time I woke up it was to a warm hand gently squeezing my shoulder and his voice telling me it was almost nine in the morning. I moaned, less of a sexy sound and more of a 'dear god I've created a monster' sound.

"Leave me alone, you sex fiend." I gathered the pillow and pulled it over my head.

My antics must have amused him because I heard his rumbly laugh. The sound seemed to pluck at every nerve ending on my body until I couldn't help but be awake. Begrudgingly I sat up and glared at him, dark hair fell into my eyes completely ruining the effect. He smiled at me, a genuine heart stopper of a smile that had me gathering a fist full of his shirt and pull him closer.

Eliot allowed it; one of his hands planted on the bed to give him leverage as he leaned in and kissed me. The fingers of my free hand tunneled through his hair, rough silk that fell like water between the digits. Legitimately I knew I should have been tired but when he crawled atop my naked body again I couldn't possibly think of letting that get the better of me. I reached for the draw string on his pants and he groaned a frustrated sound.

He pulled back; blue eyes dark and filled with want looked down at me, and murmured "I'm out of condoms."

I shrugged, "I'm on the pill."

For several long moments he seemed to consider it. His eyes trailed down the length of my body and his cock bobbed insistently between us. Then he muttered something under his breath and slid off of me. "Much as I want to," the heat in his eyes when he ran a hand up my calf said yes, he really did want to. "The pill isn't 100 percent."

I looked pointedly down at the prominent tent in his pants, and then met his gaze again. I had to give credit where credit was due, that man had to have some serious self control if he could turn down a willing woman on birth control. Any other man wouldn't have said no. I flopped back on the bed. "Great, now I feel like the sex fiend."

He laughed and tugged me down by my ankles until he stood between my legs. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up for another kiss. "Get in the shower, sex fiend. I'm working on breakfast."

I would have pointed out that I showered last night but the pleasant soreness between my legs reminded me that I probably smelled like him and sex by now. The shower felt good and when I exited the bathroom I smelled vanilla and bacon and dear god I hoped those were pancakes cooking. My stomach growled loudly in response. Once I was dressed I found him in the kitchen, moving around like he owned the place. I settled down in my usual chair at the island counter and watched him cook. Something had changed in him. Something I couldn't quite place. Not that I would argue with the difference. As much as I cared about the pre-change Eliot, this post-change Eliot made my heart flutter like it hadn't in nearly two years.

For the first time, in a long time, I thought I might be able to be happy again. With him.

He set a plate of bacon, eggs and two pancakes in front of me. "Better than oatmeal and toast?" Eliot asked.

I shot him a half hearted glare, "Don't knock my oatmeal. I'm going to need the calories to keep up with you."

He sat down on the stool across from me, blue eye twinkling with mischief, "I'm not the one who tried to seduce you into a third round this morning sweetheart."

I took a bite of pancake and nearly died from the heavenly taste. I must have done more than make yummy sounds because suddenly the heat was rolling off Eliot in waves. He watched me acutely, breakfast all but forgotten. I had the grace to blush under his intensity. Once I took a sip of milk and was able to fathom words. "Did someone teach you to cook?"

The corners of his mouth turned upward, "Something like that." He reached across and moved his thumb over my lower lip to wipe away some syrup. He brought the digit back to his mouth and licked the maple off with a purely erotic flick of his tongue.

I almost fell off the stool. I had to swallow and blink a few times before my brain managed to come to terms with him. "So…um…drugstore?"

"After breakfast."

As good as the food was it didn't hold up under the yearning to get him back into bed. I almost forgot my purse when he grabbed my hand to pull me out of the apartment. The elevator didn't reach my floor fast enough so we took the stairs. I giggled when he caught me up in his arms, kissing me fervently just as we left the building. I threw my arms around his neck, kissing him back just as boldly. A catcall from across the street told us to get a room.

"Good idea," I said against his lips.

He kissed me harder murmuring, "Drug store."

September days in Brooklyn managed to stay as warm as August days had been. We held hands on the walk to the subway and down the steps only breaking apart to swipe my metro card through the turnstiles. In the subway car he held me tight, arm around my body as he held onto the overhead poll. I caught the envious looks a couple of women gave us. Him in a deep green t-shirt that only served to display his muscles in all their sexy glory, while I decided on a soft grey cotton tank dress for the day if only to make him squirm and get us home faster. I leaned into him, ignoring the way people looked at us. He smelled good like soap, toothpaste and clean laundry.

I laced my fingers with his as the rest of the world passed by. "Tell me something about you that no one else knows," I whispered as we waited for our stop.

His fingers tightened on mine, "I miss you when I'm not here."

My heart skipped a beat, "I miss you too."

Eliot began to trace little circles on the back of my hand with his thumb, "Your turn."

I bit my lower lip, and then murmured, "Every day I come home hoping you'll be there, and when you're not I tell myself tomorrow you will be. I think I fell for you a while ago, and didn't realize it until last night."

His mouth came down on mine almost brutally, tongue delving into my mouth when I gasped. The fingers of his other hand dug into my hip, holding me close as we could get. When we finally came up for air I felt dazed. I reached up to grab hold of the overhead rail if only to steady myself. If others were watching us I couldn't have cared less. Us, Eliot and me that was all that mattered.

Our stop came and went.

I looked up at him when he made no move to get out.

He rolled his shoulders, "You've got work on Monday. I only have two days with you before you're gone for almost ten hours a day."

I couldn't help the frown, "You know I won't blow you off for work."

Eliot pressed another kiss against my lips, "Doesn't mean I want to waste the day in bed. I want to, sweetheart, believe me. I want to but we're not going to."

I groaned, punching him lightly in the chest. "You suck."

His lips quirked, "I didn't hear you arguing last night. Or this morning."

I flushed red and buried my face in his shirt. "Fiend."

We switched trains twice. When we finally reemerged into the world we were in Central Park. I couldn't imagine what he had planned so I followed. Like those that lived in the city forever he didn't bother looking up to figure out where he was going. I looked up at the trees, still green this early in fall and breathed in deeply. I don't care what anyone says about this city. I love New York no matter what it might smell like. After living here two years I still had a list of things I wanted to do and hadn't done yet. I wondered how much time Eliot actually spent in New York without me. Did he go exploring the city on those days I left him home while I worked? Or was his sense of direction that awesome?

I started to regret wearing low heels once we reached Balto in all his bronze glory. A man a little older than me, maybe a little younger than Eliot hoisted his son up on his shoulders so the boy could pet Balto's nose while the boy's mother took a picture of them both. I couldn't help it. The thought came unbidden. I wondered how the child Andy and I could have had would have looked. If it would have been a boy or a girl. If I would have been pregnant at that moment or if we'd be working on baby number two. So many questions of a life never lived.

I must have stopped to watch the family in their happiness because Eliot called my name. When I came back to reality I found him watching me, blue eyes hooded. "You okay?" His voice was a murmur of caring but I hated that I couldn't read his expression.

I tried to smile but felt it falter as I looked at him. "Yeah. Fine." I squeezed his hand and tried to brighten up. "So are you going to tell me where we're going or are you going to drag me around through Central Park until you reveal the secret?"

My answer and curiosity seemed to pacify him enough. We walked, his fingers linked with mine, and we talked. He asked about work. What I'd been doing while he was gone. I told him about not being able to find a Tae Kwon Do class I liked so I picked Judo instead. The friends I'd made. I asked about what he'd been doing. He gave me that look, the one that said he wouldn't talk about it and he didn't plan on talking about it. Ever. I asked him about where he learned to cook and found out that was part of the reason he'd taken so long in coming back. He stayed three months to learn from a chef. Toby.

The way he smiled when he talked about Toby, I felt grateful to a man I'd never met. Eliot moved his free hand while he talked, gesturing, demonstrating. He looked almost like a kid in a candy store when he told me about what he learned to do with figs and how caramel éclairs were worth all the effort and a handful of recipes that I couldn't even begin to pronounce. Words rolled off his tongue like water over rocks. I stopped so that he felt the pull of leaving me behind. He stopped in front of me, head cocked slightly.

"Faye?"

I crooked a finger at him, "Come here."

A delightful, mischievous glint entered his gaze, "What do I get if I do?"

Hooking my fingers in his belt loops I tugged him closer. The heels helped a little to close the difference between our heights but I pushed up on the tips of my toes anyway. "What do you want?"

Eliot leaned in, his breath tickling the fine hairs by my ears. His voice dropped to a low husky sound that turned my knees to jell-o and sent my heart galloping faster than my grandfather's best horse. "You know what I want sweetheart."

Two could play at that game. I ran my tongue along the pulse in his throat, "Find us a quiet place then."

He let out a string of curse words under his breath, looking up and around. There were people everywhere. Eliot dragged a hand through his hair, blue eyes closing, lips parted just slightly as he thought.

I should have felt bad for doing that to him but all I wanted to do was make him want me more. I wanted to make him want me so badly he'd have to drag me somewhere semi-private and teach me a lesson I'd never forget. I pressed open mouth kisses to his neck teasing the jumping of his pulse until he groaned and pulled away.

Dilated pupils looked back at me; his breath came in sharp and hard. He grabbed my hand again, tugging me with him until I had to almost speed walk to keep up. We moved down a path past other people, Eliot looking left then right before going on.

Giggling, "Easy cowboy, you're acting like a teenager with raging hormones."

He shot me a dark, hungry look that stole my breath away.

I shivered and shut my mouth. Maybe teasing Eliot hadn't been the best plan of attack.

We neared the Loeb boathouse. I could hear water splashing and the paddling boats. The distinct sounds of people, families, friends, all having fun. A thrill of excitement went through me as we ducked around others to get wherever it was Eliot wanted to go. He took me around the side of the building toward the denser trees when we stopped. Just up ahead one of the boat engineers came out of a side door. Eliot let my hand go for a moment and told me to wait right there.

He went up to the guy and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. The engineer looked at Eliot, looked behind him at me and then at the wad of cash Eliot offered him. Then the guy smiled this knowing smile, took the money and said something to Eliot. I only approached after the guy left.

"What was tha-"

Eliot kissed me until I forgot what I wanted to say. Dazed I found myself inside a small room, supplies lined the shelves and a workbench sported a small engine that looked as if it had seen better days. Then I heard a lock flip. I turned around in time to see Eliot's hand coming away from the door.

"How much did you give him to leave us alone for twenty minutes?" I asked.

"Two hundred to take his lunch break early," then he was on me again, kissing me until my legs wouldn't support my weight. "We've got an hour," he murmured against my lips, "now what were you saying about a quiet place?"

"That's a lot of money to spend on getting me alone."

His gaze turned from hot to searing, "Worth it."

I didn't touch him the way he wanted, not at first. I pulled at his shirt until he took it off, dropping it on the workbench behind him. Fire licked beneath my skin as I got a much better look at him in the daylight. The Eliot buffet before me was all warm skin and solid muscle. My mouth watered while heat pooled low in my belly.

I smiled wickedly, undoing the buckle on his belt. "You might want to hold onto something cowboy." The button on his fly popped open and the zipper eased down around the hardening erection in his pants. Then I dropped to my knees and showed him exactly how worth it I could be.

---

The picture of us taken near Alice in Wonderland, the left-over's in the freezer and the nearly empty box of condoms in the nightstand are all I have left after the month he spent with me. One whole month. I couldn't go with him to JFK the day he left. Sneaky bastard scheduled his flight during a meeting that I'd been prepping over a week for. This time though, I got a phone number. Eliot warned me that he might not pick up. He said that it could take days to get back to me. Of course he wouldn't tell me where he was going, who he was going with or when he'd be back.

The first weekend after he left I sent him two picture messages. One shot of the bed. The other a shot of me, on the bed. Naked. Twenty minutes passed before my phone started ringing. Amusement bubbled inside my chest when I saw his number on the caller ID.

His voice, a low growling whisper, "Honey, you're killing me."

I sighed softly, "Are you telling me that you didn't like that?" Footsteps, faint voices in the background. I didn't ask where he was or who he was with. I wanted to, but I didn't.

"I love it," that rough husky quality told me he wasn't lying, "but I can't do anything about it right now."

"You could just listen." The idea of phone sex had me turned on and smoldering already.

He made a sound of frustration followed by a muttered, intelligible curse before speaking again, "I can't. Believe me, if I was home with you…" he let the promise trail off. Then he groaned a little, "Just tell me you're still naked right now."

I smiled up at the ceiling, "You know I am."

"Sleep like that; I'll try to call you in the morning." A male voice, accented, maybe Russian or something Eastern European calling 'Spencer'. Why were they calling him that? Eliot growled his annoyed growl. His voice went into a low whisper again, "I gotta go. Keep your phone on."

The line went dead. I hung up. Man had issues with the words good bye.

He didn't call the next day. Or the next.

October got colder and turned into November. I sent periodic messages that went unanswered. I didn't call. I wanted to but I didn't. I spent Thanksgiving with my grandparents when they flew up from Missouri to see me. For people approaching their eighties they were still fairly spry. They asked after Eliot. I told them what I could, that he was working and he'd call if he could.

He didn't.

November became December. My resolve to let him do his job and not worry broke on Christmas Eve. I'd flown down to Missouri to spend Christmas with them. My grandparents had gone to bed for the evening, telling me Santa wouldn't like me staying up. Maybe if I went to sleep my Christmas present would be at the front door come morning.

Most of the dogs were stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace. I sat with my back to the couch and dialed his number. It rang once. Then an electronic tone played and a voice informed me that the number I had dialed was no longer in service.

I threw the phone at the wall.

It was a shitty Christmas.

The vacation time I'd amassed from work allowed me to stay with my grandparents until just after New Years. I couldn't stay for my birthday though. My boss would have had a conniption fit and frankly, being home still reminded me too much of my old life. Not that I really wanted to get back to my new life. I worried about Eliot. I told myself I could be pissed off once I found out he was okay.

I called Dryer. After having not spoken to him for a few years I figured he wouldn't remember me. Or his annoying habit of calling me by a pet name. I was wrong. "Baby doll," I could hear the grin in his voice and the adjustment of his belt. He always played with his belt when he saw me. "How's the prettiest girl I've never slept with?"

Only he would completely ignore how wrong it was to openly admit to wanting to sleep with a former squad mate's wife. I would have called him a pervert like I used to before Andy died. The word was on my lips before I realized it. I swallowed it back and tried to play casual. Tried being the operative word. "Dryer, have you talked to any of the old squad lately?"

Immediately his voice went from playful banter to guarded business, "Why?"

I closed my eyes and breathed out, "Please Dryer, I just need to know if Eliot is okay."

The other end of the line went incredibly quiet as if he'd put me on mute. When his voice came back it was less guarded. "Baby doll, tell me you didn't do what I think you did. Tell me you're smarter than that."

My whole body went cold from the tips of my fingers down to my sock encased toes. "I care about him," the voice coming from my lips was a hushed whisper, "a lot."

Dryer groaned a pained sound, "Jesus. You did." He went quiet again, oh so quiet.

Fear crept up my spine. Despite the warmth in the apartment I shivered. "Is he dead?"

"No baby doll." Dryer's voice was harsh, almost angry. "He isn't. Do yourself a favor. Forget about him. He's doing some bad shit for some very bad people."

"But he's alive," I said.

"Listen, don't call me about him anymore. I can't afford to get involved." He hung up.

I listened to the dial tone for a while before it went to beeps and then the operator. Eliot kept that part of his life separate from the time he spent with me. He didn't mention places, he didn't share anything he'd done or would do and he didn't mention names. No, wait. He had mentioned one name, once. While we lay in bed, post-coital bliss, bodies still coming down from the high we gave each other he mentioned one name. When I asked when he would have to leave me he said that he wouldn't have to start working for Moreau for another couple of weeks.

His absence seemed even more apparent the more time went by. Three months without contact wasn't exactly strange considering out relationship as it stood. Though, it really wasn't friendship anymore. Not to me. I cared about him. A lot. The L word hung in the air but I didn't trust myself enough to voice it let alone think it.

I wanted to call his sister but I didn't have her phone number or full name. Hell I wasn't even sure about Eliot's last name. He told me he changed it a few years ago but from what I didn't know. All I did know was that now he went by Spencer. Eliot Spencer.

The month of January went by like molasses in the cold.

When Valentine's Day rolled around I literally could not take the seas of red, pink and white flowers everywhere. The smell of chocolate and roses started to irritate me. The girly gushing over dinner plans and jewelry and wonderful boyfriends with their wonderful, wonderful lives made me want to punch someone's face in. I took a half day before I vomited on the next person to ask about what I would be doing that day.

There were people cuddling on the subways. People kissing on the street.

Red and pink hearts every-fucking-where.

It felt like a goddamn conspiracy to make me miss him more. I fought the envy and the tears back as I stormed up the stairs. The plan in my head was to eat a ridiculous amount of Tin Roof Sundae and drink copious amounts of wine until I either passed out or got really fat. I made certain to slam the door to my apartment behind me. It closed with a satisfying crack-slap that echoed through the room. A frustrated sound clawed its way up my throat.

Why did I get involved with him? Why the hell did I let myself get involved with yet another man who would disappear at a moment's notice and not reappear for months at a time? Why would I let myself fall for yet another man like that?

So engrossed was I in my self-pitying that I failed to notice the olive colored duffle bag by the door and its twin sitting innocuously on the couch. I didn't see him come around the corner from the short hallway until he was standing a few feet away from me.

My purse hit the floor when I jumped in surprise. "Eliot," his name on my lips sounded so much like the relief flooding my veins and the shock that brought tears to my eyes.

Then I tackled him. Or tried to at least. I wrapped my arms around his body, pushed up onto the tips of my toes and kissed him with everything I had. I thought I heard him sigh, I thought I felt him kiss me back. I thought I felt him respond to me if only for a moment.

He didn't though. He didn't respond or kiss me back. He waited until I dropped back to the floor and then he did the most painful thing he could have done at that moment.

He stepped back away from me.

My heart sank into my stomach and fear tightened my throat, "Eliot?"

He dragged a hand through his almost shaggy hair. I could see where the blond highlights gave way to his natural brown shade. He breathed out heavily, "You weren't supposed to be here Faith."

He never called me by my full name unless something was wrong. A cold heavy feeling coiled in my chest. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to answer him. I said the only thing I could think of at the moment. "You were supposed to call me back in the morning."

He looked sharply away from me.

I swallowed around a sob. I wouldn't cry. I would not cry. "What happened?"

For a moment I thought he'd tell me. His mouth opened just slightly, enough to indicate he would have said something, anything. When his lips closed, pressing flat until they were a grim line whatever he had to say was lost. "This was a mistake."

My eyes burned, "Coming here or being with me?"

He shook his head, "Both."

Something inside me cracked. My eyes watered, "I love you Eliot."

"I know," he looked at me, blue eyes harder than diamonds, "I bet Dryer it wouldn't be that easy. He was right. You were."

Something immeasurable and excruciating ripped free in my chest when the stark reality of what this, us, actually meant came into focus. I heard my hand cracking across his face before I realized it was me hitting him. I hit him and he let me at first. I drove a fist into his chest and then another, blindly wanting to hurt him the way I'd been hurting for the last couple of months. The way I hurt right then.

He grabbed my wrists to stop me so I switched to venom. There were tears streaming down my cheeks, hot saline burning from my eyes as I yelled at him. Screamed at him. When my body began to sag from the effort and my voice went hoarse, his face bore my handprint and his neck sported scratch marks from my nails. I yanked away from him, turning my wrists into his thumbs to break the hold.

I had the feeling he let me go. That he could have kept me there and let me cry it out. He didn't though. He took up one bag and passed me to get the other.

"Don't you ever come back here," I didn't recognize my voice when I spoke. The crying and the screaming made me sound horrible. "Don't you ever contact me again."

He pulled open the door, "I won't." The door closed solidly behind him.

My legs, weak and wobbly as they were, wouldn't support me anymore. I was surprised they held up that long. As I sat there on the cold wooden floor I tried to make sense of everything but lucidity stood just outside my reach. Grief took over the moment I tried to breathe. When I tried to come to terms with really never seeing him, never hearing his voice, never hearing him say my name again…the tears flooded once more. A vast empty hole where he used to be swallowed up what was left of my heart.

I curled up into a fetal ball there on the floor and wept.

Surviving post-Eliot became a sort of static, repetitive routine. Wake, eat, work, cry, sleep and round again. Most nights I went to bed in tears and woke with dried saline on my face. I would grab at my phone in desperate moments, dialing numbers only to stop and throw the phone away from me. The hollow spot in my chest where my heart used to live would expand at random devastating moments that threatened to shatter my world. I felt light headed and spinny sometimes. I would miss the stops nearest to my apartment building and not care enough to get off the subway.

There were days where I didn't bother sleeping. Or eating.

I couldn't escape the agony in my dreams so I avoided them when I could afford to. Leaving the television on to fill the void only seemed to make things worse. It filled my home with voices, and ghosts of people that weren't there.

I felt nothing but the pain. Thought of nothing but what I could have done to make him stay. What I could do to make him come back. I would start crying again and I would fall asleep in my clothes on the couch where his scent still lingered on the pillows.

Aside from work I spoke to almost no one. I stopped going to Judo classes, stopped going for drinks after work. I hadn't called my grandparents at all. I sent falsely cheerful emails, birthday cards with happily scrawled personal notes via snail mail. I tried to make sure tears didn't stain the paper. I knew that if I talked to either of them I'd break even more though I didn't think it would have been possible. My heart had been ground into microscopic slivers that sliced at my insides with every breath. The poor pitiful organ had nothing left to give and yet it still managed to beat on and on in my chest.

My apartment never felt so empty before. I saw his ghost everywhere, in the kitchen, meditating on the couch, doing katas on the rug. It made the ache all the more acute. I had the feeling that at any moment I would start bleeding fatally from the hole in my chest. I almost welcomed the prospect because death would have been so much better than living like that.

To this day I'm not sure how I survived. To tell the truth though…I'm not really sure I did sometimes.