A/N: Sooo…here's the deal: A certain someone who shall remain anonymous has request that I posted this or that physical harm will be inflicted on me via e-mail. So this is my complying.

Basically, if you haven't read Disenchanted/Against the Grain you probably shouldn't read this. And if you have, beware that it, for the most part, only discusses my OCs. The whole concept for the T/M parts of this story were the result of me trying to put together some sort of timeline for my OCs and I figured that since I'm about to post part-three of this series some people might enjoy a little back story. They're both wayyy longer than I expected them to be (probably because so much is left unknown about the characters), so I hope they don't drag on…

So this is parts three and four of "Love". I hope you guys enjoy it!

Part Three – Real

Rick Almeida had been in love two times in his thirty-two years of existence. (At least, that's what he would tell you if you asked. He counted both times because both times he'd told the girl he loved her so he felt must've on some level…)

The first occasion was his high school girlfriend, Sara. She had a thick curtain of chestnut brown hair that was always sleek and shiny; her big, almond shaped eyes were a subdued green with a hint of grey in them and her porcelain skin was flawless without even a freckle or small birthmark. She was bubbly and vivacious and he'd overheard her friends gush time and time again about how perfect they looked together. She fit right into the crook of his arm when they walked down the halls, and he would take great pleasure in messing up her hair, or pulling the hood of her sweater over her eyes, or flinging straw wrappers at her across the cafeteria table to hear her squeal and pretend she wasn't talking to him for the rest of the day. It wouldn't take more than a couple of quick kisses in front of both their sets of friends to get her to forgive him and her friends would squeal at his displays of affection and he just knew he was the subject of conversation at more than a few of their sleepovers. He had sisters after all.

The very first time he ever had sex ended up being the only time in his life Rick Almeida was less experienced in the bedroom than the person he was sleeping with. Sara had already had sex with her last boyfriend and had been the one giving out directives as he tried desperately not to make an ass out of himself. He remembered it feeling unbelievable and the way the late afternoon sun highlighted the contours of her face. He recalled berating himself later for not having enough common sense to turn the radio on for mood and asking Sara one-time too many if she was okay/ready/sure she was okay until she finally ordered him to just do it, Rick! Her bra had stayed on through the whole thing and she'd gasped endearingly when he finally slid into her. In that moment it was sensory overload and every sensation muddled together from the way her small hands pressed into his back and her legs wrapped around him, to the way her skin tasted, to the way it felt being inside her heat. Needless to say, he didn't last long.

It was a few weeks after their first time together when his buddy convinced him that if he didn't profess his undying love for her soon Sara would think that he thought she was a slut and break up with him. He told her on the couch one night in the middle of making out through a movie and she'd grinned and kissed his neck and said them back. He felt better, not wanting to offend Sara unintentionally and figuring he would mean the words eventually.

Rick was seventeen and he'd been with Sara a year when his mother asked if she thought there was a way Sara might be able to spend Christmas Eve with the family so they could "get to know her". Rick knew what a big deal the invite was, and he wanted his mom to like her. Tony was flying home that night from California and Rachel from Boston and his mother thought it would be nice to have everyone together. The fact that Sara was being included in "everyone" was significant, without a doubt.

Sara arrived in a deep green cocktail dress and kitten heels ensemble that was way too fancy for their standard Almeida-family Christmas eve. Her hair was in big, loose curls and she wore a rose-petal colored lip-gloss and some sparkly eye shadow. She entered the room all smiles and swooped down to press a warm kiss on his cheek before greeting the rest of the family and receiving a hug from his mom – who, naturally, insisted she looked stunning. Out of the corner of his eye Rick watched Tony and Rachel exchange a look, and anxiety coupled with a hint of defiance bubbled up inside him.

Sara was perfectly polite all evening. She'd brought a bottle of wine for his parents, introduced herself to Tony and Rachel (despite how obviously nervous she was of them) and made sure to ask Amy and Lisa how things were going. She was tactful in all her displays of affection, clasping his hand on the table occasionally and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth when she excused herself to help with the dishes (despite his mom's protests). When she left the table, Rachel looked at Tony expectantly and his brother bit his lip, but said nothing. The rest of the girls returned and Rick forgot about Tony's uncharacteristic lack of opinion and happily drove Sara home, getting as far as third base in the front seat of the car until she finally noticed the clock and dashed inside. When he got home it was just before midnight and Tony was waiting for him on the front steps.

He inclined his head towards the back path that overlooked a ravine as his breath frosted in the cold night air.

"C'mon… We're goin' for a walk…"

Rick fidgeted nervously. "It's kinda late..."

Tony snorted, pulling back his jacket to reveal two bottles of beer. He handed one to Rick and slapped him on the back.

"I'll make sure I have you home in time for Santa." He muttered under his breath.

It was bitterly cold and Tony licked his lips repeatedly as they walked.

"I miss this."

"What?" Rick snickered wryly. "Freezing your ass off?"

Tony reached out a hand and shoved him a little, a smirk on his face. He took another sip of his beer and Rick mimicked him. Whenever it was just Tony and him Rick always got a beer or two. It was a requirement for all male-bonding rituals or something.

"So what's up, Tony?"

His brother shrugged. "Nothing really…"

"Mom said you have some new girlfriend." Rick commented with a snicker.

Tony scowled. "I dunno how the hell mom figures this stuff out…"

"Me neither. I swear she's superhuman or something." Tony snorted a probably in response.

"She cute?"

Tony simply nodded, taking another gulp form his bottle.

"Brunette?" Tony'd always had a thing for brunettes. In his entire life, Rick was certain he'd maybe had a one-night stand once with a blonde and that was it.

"Redhead."

"Nice…"

A warning look was shot and Rick stared at him in confusion.

"What? You haven't screwed her yet - ?"

Tony's left hand collided with the back of his head and Rick winced.

"Watch your mouth." Tony ordered half-heartedly, knowing better than to take offense to his seventeen-year-old brother's colorful choice of words.

"Damn…sorry…it was just a question."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"What's her name?"

"Kirsten."

"Can I meet her?"

"Maybe."

"How long has it been?"

"Three months."

"So you did…" Rick bit his lip, not really wanting to get slugged by his brother the former marine. "I mean you slept with her…right?"

Tony studied him warily before inclining his head in the affirmative.

They stopped walking, slumping down on a park bench and observing the view for a few seconds. Finally, Tony broke the silence.

"Have you and uh…Sara…?"

Rick shot him an incredulous look.

"It's been a year." He stated matter-of-factly.

Tony almost laughed outright, but managed to contain himself.

"Geeze, sorry. It was just a question." He mocked.

There was another brief pause.

"What do you think of her?"

"Who?" Tony's brow creased. "Sara?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter what I think, does it?"

The answer was yes, of course it mattered. Tony's opinion mattered more to him than anyone. Rick would never admit that though.

"Well I uh…" Rick bit his lip. "I think I'm in love with her or something."

This time Tony did laugh.

"You think or something?"

"Yeah I mean…I do. I think it's something you just kinda grow into. That whole, 'when you know, you know' thing is bullshit."

"It's not bullshit." Tony said simply. "If it was, the only thing you would need would be time... There'd be nothing about it that was…that felt different."

"So you just…" Rick downed the last of his bottle quickly. "You just…know?"

"Yup."

"How?"

"Fuck, Rick. I dunno. I can't explain it…" he sighed. "It's just one of those things."

Rick raised an eyebrow and Tony sighed exasperatedly, finishing his own beer.

"Alright look…if she broke up with you tomorrow…how would you feel?"

"Sad. Obviously."

"But you'd get over it?"

"Well yeah…of course. One girl isn't going to ruin my life…"

Tony clasped his hand on his shoulder.

"If that's how you feel…you probably don't." Tony sighed. "I mean…yeah if you loved her and it ended you'd probably get over it eventually…but if it was the real deal now, when you're with her…you don't even want to think about it. Hurts too much. "

Rick stared at him in disbelief and eventually just snorted.

"You asked."

"I just wanted to know what you thought of her…" he hoped Tony's response was nothing akin to 'if you loved her you wouldn't care what anyone else thought'. Rick didn't like being told he was getting his feelings mixed up. He knew what he was feeling; Tony wasn't feeling it so he couldn't possibly understand.

"Honestly?" Tony shrugged his shoulders. "She's cute and she's nice enough but uh…you can do better, Rick. Trust me."

Rick didn't know what to say to that. Sara was arguably the prettiest, most well liked girl in school. She got good marks and had been nothing but sweet to everyone all night. And physically…well, everything she did always felt good – really good – he knew that much. On the list of things you look for in a girlfriend, she had every box ticked off, so how could he do better?

"There's a difference between someone looking good on paper and someone being right for you." Tony informed him quietly. "It's like…" he scratched his cheek awkwardly. "It's like they get so deep under your skin you feel like you'll never be able to get rid of them. You've still got a while to figure it out. Hell, I'm still figuring it out. Just trust me on this one, alright? You'll know it when you feel it. "

Rick nodded. He believed everything Tony told him. Tony was his go-to person on every subject in the world and Rick took everything he said seriously. They rose simultaneously from the bench. As they walked back to the house Tony clasped him on the shoulder one more time, mumbling something about owing him about a hundred beers when he was finally legal.

His relationship with Sara had fizzled by the end of January, much to his mom's chagrin. In the end she just didn't feel right.

He took Tony's perils of wisdom to heart. Every girl he met was given the same courtesy and if he didn't feel something he knew it wasn't right. By his second year at Northwestern Rick decided if he couldn't find someone he really wanted to be with he could at least get laid…often. He liked to think he made any sort of arrangement he had with the girls he slept with very clear before things started up. They knew when they woke up in the morning he would probably be gone and that he was probably juggling two or three of them at a time. It wasn't dating, it was sex and he saw no reason to change his ways when there was no real reason to.

He was a few months shy of twenty-three and had just finished training at Quantico when Charlotte got pregnant. He usually saw her once or twice every few weeks and there'd been no talk of either of them needing or wanting anything more. She was drop-dead-gorgeous, had impeccable taste in clothing that showed off her fantastic legs and had just started working at a PR firm in DC. She was also older. They were both always busy and found time for each other whenever they could and then she got pregnant.

Two days after she told him he had a meeting with his superiors, asking him to go to the Middle East for a Special Forces operation. He'd been top of his class (his scores beat Tony's, something he'd called to boast about as soon as the results came through). Charlotte had freaked out on him when she took him she was pregnant, kicked him out of her apartment, and hadn't returned any of his calls since. Here was a great opportunity – one that wasn't likely to come along again if he turned it down – and Charlotte had made it quite clear she wanted nothing to do with him…

He called Tony from London to tell him what happened and apologize for leaving the way he did. Tony was pissed, without question, but Rick knew he would come around. He had to. Never once did it occur to Rick he might not make it back in time for Tony to come around…

Rick had absolutely adored Michelle Dessler from the moment he met her and knew better than to chalk it up to three years of minimal (if any) contact with females. She was gorgeous, she was funny and she was honest. He thought part of what he liked about her was how obviously in love with his brother she was. He liked their relationship – admired it, really. There wasn't any unnecessary drama and they seemed to just…get each other. In the time he spent in their presence he would forever be mystified at the way they could have an entire conversation without opening their mouths. They clicked in all the right ways, weren't compelled to constantly put their affection on display and made this whole falling-in-love thing look easy. He was a little envious of that. He couldn't deny the fact that at some point in his life it might be nice to meet someone he fit with like that…someone who wasn't just a fleeting thought when he hadn't had sex in a while but an actual, legitimate fixture in his life. Like Tony said, someone you felt like you could never get rid of.

The first thing he saw when he saw Alex Evans wasn't the nineteen year old blonde that stood before him in faded jeans and a t-shirt, with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. He just saw another recruit. If she stood out it was because they got so few women showing up for field training and because she was so incredibly young, particularly for a woman. She was only there because Michelle had asked, and for Michelle he was willing to pull a few strings.

But damn, did that Alex Evans throw him for a loop.

First days on the shooting range were notoriously bad for everyone. A lot of these guys came over from S.W.A.T. or were ex-military, and a few of the really lucky (or unlucky depending on how you looked at it) ones were brand new. The first day always consisted of berating them for every bad habit they had and preparing them for the work that would have to be put in. Alex was one of the new ones, one of the ones who'd never held a gun for a living in their life, so he didn't expect much from her except that she wouldn't have very many bad habits to break. That was until blond-haired, blue-eyed Alex Evans stepped up, cool as a cucumber, raised her weapon level and fired off two quick rounds before anyone had time to blink. Everyone stared at her and Rick knew Michelle had thrown him a fast one. Alex had been trained; her technique was flawless and her aim was spot-on. No one offered any critiques as Alex placed the gun down, stepped back and removed her earmuffs. Rick noticed the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. She was obviously pleased with herself.

At the bar that night he bumped into Alex on her way inside (it was the last night out before all of them before training actually began). Her blond ponytail hung through the back of a baseball cap, but she was still easily identifiable.

"Where'd you learn to do that, Evans?" he startled her and she jumped, spinning to face him. Her cheeks flushed a little and she bit her lip.

"Firing range at Division in LA." She stated simply. "Michelle kinda taught me a few things…" She shrugged sheepishly, stepping inside the bar as he pulled the door open for her.

"And I practiced a lot…just in case."

He nodded understandingly, his eyes flickering towards the logo on the front of her cap. He groaned exaggeratedly and Alex looked taken aback.

"Michelle didn't mention you were a Yankee." He looked disgusted. She laughed easily at his expression. He liked her laugh. It was light without being overly flirty. He liked her smile too.

"Guilty." She bit her lip endearingly. "But I mean you're a Cub, right? So…I make no apologies."

"A little respect please…" he feigned seriousness, amused now that she wasn't falling over herself to impress him. "I get a say in whether or not you make it to Special Ops training."

She grinned. "We'll talk when they make it to the playoffs."

He definitely felt something that night… especially when he slid into the booth directly beside her and found himself having an animated discussion with her about everything from Joe Torre to where they grew up for almost half an hour. Conversation flowed easily because there was obviously no underlying sexual tension. First off, she was a recruit, and second she wasn't his type anyway. He tended to go for the super busy, career-oriented women, who were also jaw-droppingly beautiful and wore skirts that showed off their legs and blouses that showed off their cleavage. He was attracted to women who only had time for sex and still had a brain in their head. With Alex, he obviously didn't acknowledge his feelings as romantic. She didn't fulfill any sort of visual fantasy of his…but it just felt different. She was different.

"You're doing it again." Sheryl sighed impatiently.

"Doing what?" Really he knew, but he was a little embarrassed at having been caught. It wasn't like he was fantasizing about her or undressing her with his eyes or anything to that extent. He was just watching.

"Blondie." Sheryl inclined her head slightly towards the monitor. "Y'know if it was anyone but her I might be a little worried over here."

Rick rolled his eyes and turned back to the monitor. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot and she tucked a wisp of it behind her ear, leaning back in her seat and lifting the paper up briefly, chewing on the end of the pen. She looked so serious all the time and he was starting to wonder if the Alex Evans he'd spent the night with at the bar three weeks ago and was a mirage. Now that they were actually in training he had to make a point to keep his distance, or people might start to ask questions. He hadn't talked to her one on one since that night.

Even beneath the hardness she exuded in front of everyone he noticed little things about her – he was supposed to after all. He noticed she fidgeted when she was second-guessing her answer and her lips curled slightly at the corners when a question amused her. The fact that she was relaxed enough to be amused said a lot.

"Jesus Rick, I didn't even know you had that big of an attention span. Maybe the next time you fuck me you can spend twenty minutes watching me play with my hair after." Sheryl snapped. Again, he rolled his eyes.

"What are her scores like?" he ignored the dig.

Sheryl pouted, but answered. "Good. I honestly can't figure out why she's so gung-ho on this Field Ops thing. She'll have to kill herself to get an even halfway-decent shot at a position and she'd have no trouble doing something with Intel…maybe even management. Her personality could use a bit of work though."

Rick just listened, still enthralled with the camera. Fiercely blue eyes flitted almost unnoticeably in the direction the camera had been placed for observation. A smirk formed on his lips.

Sheryl huffed.

"I dunno what your problem is…we're supposed to be observing them."

"Well while you're observing Evans I've got about thirty other guys I'm trying to keep my eyes on…"

Rick snapped his eyes back from the monitor quickly.

"Williams' checked his neighbor's answer key five times." He answered abruptly. Sheryl scowled, not knowing how she missed that and kept huffing and puffing about him being distracted as she made note. Rick pretended to listen while he went back to Alex Evans. She was more entertaining as far as he was concerned

Hands down, she had the best eyes he'd ever seen and after a few short weeks he knew they would be forever burned in his brain. They were the same eyes that looked happy to see him when they randomly bumped into each other running one Sunday morning; that flitted with embarrassment when he told her she needed his help; the eyes that sparkled in defiance when she finished the final obstacle course for Special Ops a minute faster than everyone else, and then stared up at him sheepishly when they were finally alone and she dropped back to the rain-soaked grass out of sheer exhaustion; they were the eyes that filled with tears when she collapsed into his arms after one of their operations in Russia. It had been during that same operation when she killed someone for the first time. They were the eyes he found cloudy with grief at some dingy bar with a bottle of whiskey in front of her immediately following Michelle's funeral, and that widened in disbelief and turned glassy with arousal the first time he kissed her.

If sex for the first time with Sara was supposed to be sensory overload, just kissing Alex was practically an out of body experience. It wasn't just that it was a good kiss… it was that she melded against his body and her skin was soft beneath his fingers and her lips curved against his in all the right places… It felt like they were crazy not to have been doing this all along.

It also felt like she'd probably never ever been properly kissed in her entire life…never kissed by someone who'd only thought about kissing her for days…weeks…hell, months and that was just blasphemous. He didn't just want someone to kiss, he wanted her and she reacted with a fervor he knew no one else had experienced from her. It was sexy; the way her fingers tightened in his hair as he nipped at her mouth, and the squeak he elicited against her lips… She was sexy and the fact that she didn't realize it made her even sexier.

And then there was the sex… He'd had a lot of sex in his life, but his first time with Alex was completely unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. Yes, he knew how to push a girl's buttons and could probably make them pant louder and come harder than they ever had before…but it was different with Alex yet again. He had every intention of giving her the best sex of her life, but it was less about crossing the finish line and more about committing everything to memory; her every reaction to even the slightest thing he did. He became absorbed in her, her every response no matter how trivial. He paid attention not just to what he needed to do to make her moan or groan or crumble beneath him, but to what made her laugh breathlessly or smile crookedly or they way she kissed him softly when he did something sweet. He marveled at the way he felt like even when he was inside her he wasn't anywhere near close enough; he wanted to stake some claim over her that no one else ever had or ever could.

He knew he loved her. He knew from the way the jealously bubbled up inside him at the notion of her seeing anyone else; he knew from the little flutter of excitement he got when she brushed past him at the end of the work day and he had a flash of all the things he would do when they got home…the most prominent one being cuddling up against her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. He knew from the fact that one of his top memories ever was the one where they lay in bed naked post-coitus and talked…talked like they'd talked that night on the beach. Only this time when her eyes welled up when she spoke of her mother his arms were already around her and he could kiss her gently, reassuringly. And when he said something that made her laugh he could feel her shaking against him. He'd never get tired of hearing her stories, even if he'd heard them a million times before.

He loved her because of how fiercely she loved. Because of how the last thing anyone could ever call her was selfish and that she would do anything for the people she cared about. He loved how when they were in the field together he knew what she was thinking: that when she wiped her palms across the back of her jeans she was preparing to make a mad dash for something or someone, and that when she blinked twice and breathed deeply she was preparing to take someone out, taking that split second to make sure she had no other option. He loved that all she had to do was look at him to know what he was thinking and he for her, that once glimpse of her eyes sitting across from her at a meeting would tell him every thought running through her head.

Alex Evans was the last thing he'd expected when Michelle called him up saying she needed a favor one afternoon three years before, but he couldn't have been more grateful for it. He didn't care that her she was impossibly stubborn…or that her face turned red and blotchy when she cried too hard…or that she had morning breath when he woke up to pull her in for a kiss. He didn't care that she fought tooth and nail against any semblance of a relationship because she thought she had to…to protect herself, or that she felt this constant need to prove herself. In fact, he kind of loved her more for it.

Rick knew that after all that time – all those years – his brother had been right. This thing he had with Alex he could feel in his bones, right down to the very core of his being. It wasn't about sounding good on paper or having something to brag to his friends about. It was about feeling more complete with them around and feeling like losing them, in whatever capacity, would mean losing a piece of yourself in the process and willing to risk it anyway. It was about being with someone who made you better, who made you feel like you were more than worth your weight in gold to them and that being all that mattered to you anymore.

This thing with Alex…this was real.