Part Four – Heart

Alex Evans had been in love only once in her twenty-three years of existence.

If you'd told her that would be the case when she was eighteen she would've thought it was lame. In her mind, being in love once was worse than never being in love at all. It was those people who married their first loves and expected they could somehow be good for each other forever. It was stupid because how do you know if someone is your perfect match if you've never tested the waters? How can you judge that if you have nothing to compare it to? If you haven't ever cared enough about someone to have them (physically and emotionally) break you down and to become cynical and realistic and learn that people will try to hurt you? To learn that you can't trust people? The people who stayed with their first loves were the ones who ended up staying in a bad relationship because they didn't know any better and Alex would rather feel nothing for anyone ever than be one of those people.

Alex had never made friends particularly easily and when she went away to Stanford it was no different. She didn't go out of her way to talk to anyone, content enough being by herself. Alex would walk into lecture in baggy sweats (with the brim of her Yankees cap tugged over her eyes at least once a week), headphones, and slip into a seat as far away from anyone else as possible. She took notes, and usually found a reason to mock people internally for asking stupid questions to the professor. She kept to herself, and spoke only when she was required to do so. She'd smiled politely and pretended to care what people were talking about her entire childhood, no matter how silly and superficial and utterly ridiculous it sounded. She wasn't doing it anymore.

She met a few people, but spent most of the year confined to her room studying. A lot of the girls she lived with had obtained fake IDs and encouraged her to try and do the same. Alex declined, more than happy to use the fact that she was underage as a reason not to go out to a club. She hated dancing, for one. Occasionally she would attend someone's house party and once, while visiting her old friends in Manhattan on winter break she'd ended up in a bedroom with a guy (who was, if possible, drunker than she). He had her naked in record time and they rolled around with each other in the mess of sheets trying to make something feel good in her inebriated state. It was awkward and messy and anything but enjoyable and they didn't even get around to having sex because he passed out in a drunken heap.

She felt sick for a week after and then decided she was simply pissed off he hadn't gotten around to doing anything notable. At least she wouldn't have been lying anymore when she implied in more ways than one that she'd had sex before.

The truth was, it wasn't very badass to admit you were still a virgin and her thoughts on the subject wouldn't have been credible if everyone found out. She'd be the virgin whose opinions would change once she met the "right guy", (which, quite frankly, she thought was bullshit. God help her if her opinions on anything in life changed because of someone other than herself). She didn't want these guys to stick around, she wanted to be by herself. She'd never actually wanted anyone.

Her best friend from home, Kathryn, was the only person in the world Alex might've suggested that she didn't want to be alone forever to. The truth was she had stupid, sappy, little romantic fantasies more often than she cared to admit. She had issues with men though, and Alex remained adamant that if she were to ever end up with anyone it would be the person who could miraculously break down the walls she'd been building up since she was six. If some guy could make her trust a man again enough to make her actually want to feel something for him she would know he was the person she should be with.

And yet, she still thought it was stupid to only end up in love once. She wanted to be seasoned and experienced and prove to everyone she could handle the sort of devastation that came with breaking up with someone you truly cared about without falling to pieces; to prove how strong she was. She thought you could love with boundaries; everyone needed boundaries to protect themselves, right? The logic was irrational and circular and Alex knew it, but she adhered to it. She'd be by herself if she had to…as long as she didn't die a virgin.

Tony Almeida was confusing. At first, even when she heard of his reconciliation with Michelle Dessler, Alex made a point to look decidedly unimpressed every time he entered a room. It didn't help that he was the reason Michelle was leaving DOD (and also the reason her uncle would send her back to school without a second thought). Alex couldn't understand what was so damn special about him that Michelle was willing to overlook the last year of hell he'd put her through. He was sarcastic and arrogant and could snarl the most inappropriate things at the powers that be without reservation. He wasn't anything like Michelle. They were so, so different and even though opposites were supposed to attract Alex thought there must be something, some reason that Michelle loved him that was more than the fact that he was the exact yin to her yang.

One morning, one week after Habib Marwan, she was half falling asleep at the computer when a mug of coffee was placed in front of her. She spun around quickly, entirely surprised to see Tony Almeida as the culprit. Her eyes must've narrowed because he laughed. Indignation rose within her.

"What?"

"You." He smirked a little and she felt her cheeks grow hot. "Don't worry, I didn't slip cyanide in there or anything…"

"What about bourbon? "she bit back. For some reason she felt bad afterwards. His eyes dropped to his feet for the smallest instant before they lifted back to meet her cold ones.

"Nah…" he rubbed the back of his neck easily. "There's none of that either…" His hand moved to rub his cheek and she realized how tight her own jaw was.

"Thank you." She managed quietly, taking a small sip. Milk and sugar. He'd taken the time to find out how she liked her coffee. A different feeling threatened to well inside her. That was kind of nice of him.

"Yeah, look uh…" he sunk into the chair beside her she twisted to face him more completely. His hand moved to claw at his cheek again.

"Michelle said you were kinda interested in doing Field Ops."

"Watch it," she hissed, eyes moving towards the door cautiously. "Bill doesn't know."

The smirk returned to Tony Almeida's mouth.

"Alright then here's the deal…I can sorta help you out with that if you want."

Her brow creased. She hadn't expected to get a spot for at least another five years.

"Now?"

He inclined his head briefly. "Yeah. My brother trains at Langley. He could help you out."

Her eyes widened and her voice went squeaky. "Really?" Tony bit his lip and nodded.

"Yeah…" he leaned back in his chair. "If you want."

"Why…I mean…why would you want to help me - ?"

He shrugged her off. "Why not?"

"Well…I mean…I haven't exactly been…"

"What? 'Cause you don't like me very much right now?" He ruffled her hair as he rose from his chair. She colored.

"Trust me Al," sincerity laced his words. "I don't like me very much right now either." His gulped hard and then relaxed. "Plus…I have a feeling I'm gonna grow on you…"

And just like that, Alex Evans' life changed.

Rick Almeida was, if possible, even more confusing than his brother. As far as she knew after the first day he never gave her a second glance, choosing instead to observe the entire class through basic training as all the other Special Ops instructors did. She wondered who would be picked, knowing that the clear first choice would be James Wiley. Wiley was good at everything, especially kicking her ass in hand-to-hand combat without even breaking a sweat.

When she made Special Ops she was floored, to say the least, wondering who it was who had vouched for her. The fact that it might have been the revered superstar Rick Almeida never crossed her mind.

The small gym was empty at five-thirty in the morning. The bigger gym would have some of the keener new recruits this early trying to get a jump on the day, but the Special Ops guys knew better. Exhausting yourself was the fastest way to get your performance to decline. Instead they all went for a five-mile run at 6:30am, a run she was always the last to finish. At this point, she couldn't do any worse than she was already doing and the MMA training was completely destroying her every afternoon. She had to get better at this and the wee hours of the morning with no one else to watch seemed like the best time.

She didn't have the gym to herself though. She had barely thrown her sweater to the ground and retied her hair when she heard the sound of a fist colliding with a punching bag.

Cautiously, she peered into the room with the bags, rubbing her bare arms vigorously and adjusting the strap of her tank top.

Rick Almeida was dripping with sweat as his fists collided like rapid fire against the bag with incredible force. He was light on his feet, moving around the bag and giving her a view of him from all angles; even in a t-shirt and sweats she could see his hard muscles flexing beneath the cotton. His face was relaxed, but concentrated and he looked like he'd been at this a while. His dark hair was shinny under the bright lights and he hadn't shaved yet. Alex wondered how she'd failed to notice how unbearably attractive he was before now.

He spun around suddenly and she realized she had stepped out from her corner and was standing directly in his line of sight. He stopped, breathing heavily and wiping his brow with the bottom of his shirt and revealing his sweaty, ripped abdomen.

She may need to sit down.

"Sorry!" she blurted out when he was halfway across the room towards her. "I'm sorry I didn't realize…" she licked her chapped lips. "I didn't think anyone would be here right now."

Rick studied her curiously before speaking.

"You apologize too much. For everything." He stated, taking her by surprise. "You're allowed to use the gym. Why are you apologizing?"

"I uh…I'm s…I mean, I dunno…"

He started to smirk, catching her slip.

"What are you doin' here anyway?"

"I…I thought I could get some extra practice in." she colored a little. His smirk disappeared and his eyes softened a little.

"Yesterday was rough, huh?"

Her blush deepened and she lowered her eyes to the ground. "You could say that."

Rick's eyes bore into her for a few more seconds before he finally started walking away abruptly.

"C'mon…" he called her over, reaching into his bag and tossing her something. "Tape your wrists. We'll work on some stuff."

"What!?" her eyes bulged in disbelief. "You really don't have to…"

"I want to. You're getting a raw deal. Phil's an asshole…"

"I just assumed…"

"There's being tough and there's being unfair. He treats you like garbage. He argued with me for like two hours over letting you into Special Ops…"

She stopped taping her wrists and stared at him.

"You…really?"

He laughed and her chest tightened as his dark eyes locked on hers. "Why do you look so surprised?"

"I just…" she bit her lip. "I didn't think I was really standing out and when they picked me…I didn't think you even remembered - "

"I remembered you, Yankee." The smirk was back and her heart fluttered slightly. "And you stood out. Trust me. Phil was the only one who didn't want you in."

"And now I'm a huge disappointment."

Rick shook his head immediately, catching the tape she threw back at him.

"Like I said, you got a raw deal having Phil teach the combat this session. He's not even that good. And you might not want to hear this, but he needs to cut you some slack…The sooner you accept that you're always going to be at a disadvantage the sooner you can start working around it."

He was right, she didn't want to hear it, but she knew it was true. She was never going to be able to throw someone around like any of the guys did and she had to deal with that. He laughed a little when he saw her expression.

"But I can help you."

"Doesn't really seem fair to everyone else…" she commented innocuously, excitement bubbling up inside her.

"Tell ya what, if any of the other guys decide to show up at 5am to workout I'll teach them a few things too."

"I uh…that'd be awesome but I wouldn't want to inconvenience - "

"You're not." He assured her. "I like to workout now better…it's quieter. You can help me out a bit too."

She laughed softly for the first time. Like he needed her for anything.

He continued easily. "A boxing bag only gets you so far. Trust me."

She did. Alex didn't know why, but she did.

"I really appreciate it."

"Alright…" he stepped back and pushed the bag against her playfully.

"Let's get started."

Every morning she practiced with him and every time she got a little bit better. He showed her moves Phil had never taught her, he walked her through techniques for getting more weight behind her punches, and made her do everything he could think of and then some. She was always dying at the end of their mornings and never felt like she'd made any progress until she got to the actual training in the afternoons and realized that while she may never be much against Rick Almeida, she was getting better.

It never seemed romantic, not in the slightest (how could it be when he threw her to the ground at least a hundred times every day); they talked a little sure, but never of anything of much consequence. He mentioned Sheryl a few times before realizing his blunder and shrugging it off.

But it seemed like he cared, and for that reason she trusted him implicitly.

Not surprisingly, she felt nothing the first time she finally had sex except like she'd ticked off something on her mental list of things to do, right up there beside travel Europe, and go whitewater rafting. One night, during a week after training with Special Ops (and the night after the final task for Field Ops recruits – she'd passed with flying colors thanks to Rick) she was at the bar with some of the guys and low and behold a prospect presented itself. He wasn't a complete random, she knew him as one of the Marines she'd met at Quantico the week before. He was decent looking and as buzzed as she was without being the gross, sloppy kind of drunk. The alcohol made her brazen and she smoothed out her crinkled t-shirt, knocked back the shot of whiskey Wiley had just placed in front of her and made her move.

They made out for a while in the corner of the bar before she asked him if he wanted to go somewhere. As it turned out, the only place to go was the backseat of his car, which would later make her feel like a horrible cliché. She recalled hastily unzipping his pants and sliding her hands down the front of his boxers as he cupped her breasts through her t-shirt. She found the condom she'd shoved in her bag at the last minute and they somehow managed to get it on close enough to properly on the first try. He'd unzipped her jeans and fondled her roughly (she was too drunk for any of it to feel good) and felt a twittering of panic in the pit of her stomach as he pushed her underwear to the side and positioned her above him. One deep breath later and she pressed down on top of him, doing so slower than she probably should've and wincing every time he moved in a little further. If he noticed anything amiss he didn't let on and their rhythm was rough, awkward and stilted, and she was simply relieved when he finally came. She got up without a word and redid her pants, the area between her legs burning. He didn't say anything as she reached around to grab her bag from the front seat and muttered see ya under her breath before disappearing back into the bar. Alex's heart was still pounding as she pushed her way over towards the bar, ordering another shot of tequila. At this point, she might as well go for broke, right? Her cheeks were burning and the sweat on her skin was turning cold. Her palms felt clammy.

She'd forgotten he was there, he'd been with Sheryl the entire night who he'd been sleeping with for the last few months. In her three-inch stilettos, curve-hugging skirt and with her long curtain of dark hair she absolutely put every other woman in the bar (few of them as there were) to shame.

Distracted by Sheryl's breathtaking presence, Alex didn't realize she had company until he brushed against her shoulder.

"Hey Yankee." He nudged her easily with his elbow. Alex spun around to come face to face with Rick, who made her cheeks burn impossibly brighter now. God he looked good. He always looked good and most of the time it didn't register anymore, but tonight he looked good enough to make her wonder why a large percentage of the population even bothered getting out of bed in the morning. His skin had a deeper tan than usual from all the time they'd spent outside during training and he hadn't shaved in almost two days (he'd later confess Sheryl hated it when he wasn't clean shaven and he did it just to prove how much of an affect he had on her…Personally, Alex didn't know what was wrong with Sheryl. He was hot; clean shaven or scruffy). It also made her realize why drop-dead-gorgeous Sheryl was glancing around smugly. As usual, he had the attention of every female in the room and his attention was all hers. Of course she was smug. They were probably going to go home soon and have mind-blowing sex – the kind of sex you watched in movies where the guy says and does all the right things and the girl can't help herself but moan like crazy and cry out and ecstasy, no matter how likely it was that the neighbors might hear. The complete and total opposite of the experience she'd just had.

She heard him order another round of drinks, an apple martini for Sheryl and a beer for himself. The bartender mumbled something to her about forgetting her shot and offered a quick apology. Alex shrugged it off, she wasn't going anywhere.

Out of her periphery she watched Rick frown and study her carefully.

"What's wrong?"

"What?"

He shifted a little closer, hand on her back.

"You okay?"

"Fine." she yelped, her voice getting high and squeaky. Rick frowned.

"You sure?"

"Yup." Both their eyes floated towards the door that had just swung open. "Her marine" had finally returned to the bar, inclining his head slightly in her direction curtly and hurrying off to his friends. Alex's cheeks darkened and Rick's frown deepened. His drinks had just been placed on the bar but he made no move to leave.

"Al…"

"Mhm?" she watched gratefully as the bartender poured her tequila. Her buzz was wearing off and she was starting to feel something more than just adrenaline; like nausea, disgust and complete and utter panic.

Rick inched impossibly closer, his voice low against her ear.

"Did you do something with…that guy?"

"Huh?"

"I saw you early."

"We just made out."

He stared at her surreptitiously as the bartender placed two shots in front of her, one as an apology for forgetting the first. She thanked him and dropped a crumpled up dollar from her change back on to the bar.

"You had sex with him." Rick blurted out and Alex almost choked on her own tongue.

"What? What the hell makes you think…" she trailed off, unable to lie at that moment. Unable to lie to him.

"Maybe. So what."

"You look like you're freaking out."

"I'm not…" she reached for her first shot, knocking it back quickly and making a face. The glass slipped through her clumsy fingers as she placed it back on the slick wood and Rick caught it before it fell to the floor. Alex flinched, her vision growing a little fuzzy now.

"Want me to take you home?"

She stared at him incredulously. Was he really suggesting bailing on Sheryl because she couldn't handle her liquor and had done something stupid? As if the woman didn't dislike her enough already.

"I'm fine. It's not a big deal." She reached for her second shot, even though all she wanted was to go home, hop into a shower and hope that some amount of scalding hot water would make her feel at least a little clean again.

Rick's eyes left her for the first time and he glanced over his shoulder towards Sheryl, who was watching them with a frown set on her perfect features. He looked back at Alex and shook his head.

"You're not fine." he declared simply. "And you're not going home by yourself…"

Her heart pounded violently when his hand moved across her waist, fingertips pressing into her far hip.. After what she'd just done and how repulsive the thought of contact with any other human being was, his hand on her still felt like a lifeline. It was enough to simultaneously soothe and rattle her. She let out a little gasp when his other hand pried the second shot out of hers and he threw it back before she could react.

"I'm taking you home." He stated flatly, his eyes moving towards the place the marine was sitting now.

"Stay here." He ordered.

"Where are you going?" She slurred. "You're not honestly saying something are you? I knew what I was doing, it's not his…"

"You're drunk out of your mind." He snarled, still glaring at the table her first-time-ever was now seated at. She had no intention of letting Rick in on that little gem though…

"I won't say anything." He was touching her again.

"I'm just gonna go give this to Sheryl."

"Seriously, Rick…don't ruin your night too. She's gonna be pissed…"

Rick snorted something she couldn't decipher in her drunken state and it was all too apparent who held the power in their relationship. Sheryl would pretend to be furious but Alex knew without a doubt if Rick snapped his fingers she'd come running. Sheryl wanted to say she was with him more than she wanted to be rightfully angry.

"Stay here." He repeated gently.

She heard him argue with Sheryl, but not what was said. In no time he was back at Alex's side, guiding her out of the bar with an arm around her waist. When they were outside back in the cool air she shivered. Rick's hand moved to her hair and he dropped a kiss on her hot cheek. It startled her. He'd never shown that kind of blatant affection to her before. Apparently now that they were done training it didn't matter anymore.

When she came back from Russia this guy Chris asked her out. She wasn't really into him but said yes because, really, why not? It was three months of mediocre sex and a few decent orgasms and the occasional dinner out, coupled with him bitching that she spent too much time with someone other than him and her wishing there was a way to break it to him what they had going on wasn't anything to write home about. He was obviously insecure and she would later suspect that he was only interested in her because he was interested in staking some sort of claim over her.

When Rick asked her to make the move back to LA following Michelle's alleged death she'd agreed without the slightest consideration of where it would leave her and Chris. He got angry and said some nasty things and she told him to get over himself… Afterwards there was the occasional awkward phone call just to see how she was in the months following the funeral, and once to get her address so he could mail a box of a things she'd left at his place. It just served to solidify the fact that when push came to shove, she'd felt nothing for him.

Without a doubt the scariest, most exhilarating day of her life was the day Rick Almeida kissed her.

It was never supposed to happen. He was her friend first and her boss second and it never occurred to her that there might be something more to it. To start, he enjoyed the freedom that came with being able to pick up and leave whenever he needed or wanted to. He should've ended up with one of those sweet girls who wore a cute sundress, had fluffy hair and looked definitively gorgeous without trying too hard. That was who he should be with; the ones who were perfectly accessorized and who took great pleasure in having him tuck them in close to his body when they walked the streets at night…not the one who got uncomfortable and felt the need to assert her independence whenever he got too close. Alex had always known that once Rick decided he wanted commitment the first girl he fell for would be putty in his hands (not that they all weren't already, but there were boundaries before). She assumed that he'd meet some girl like the ones he'd dated throughout his entire twenties and realize that she could make him happy. They'd be the couple that everyone envied and get married and have gorgeous babies and live happily ever after…

What Alex Evans did not count on was being the girl he turned to putty. She didn't count on him pulling her out of sight to press her up against a cement wall and kiss her hard enough to leave her a shaking and fumbling and trying to remember what she was supposed to have been thinking about before that…before him.

And she certainly did not count on being undressed by him – ever. She never expected him to kiss her soundly and pull her t-shirt over her head as his warm hands caressed her chilled skin and made her shiver. She didn't expect her whole body to ache in anticipation as he spent an eternity-and-a-half with his hot mouth on her neck and collar while his hands caressed her thighs and abdomen; and she certainly didn't expect him to make her experience the two most intense orgasms of her entire life before he'd even slid into her (She didn't even know she was capable of coming more than once in a single sex session before him.).

She didn't expect the lump in her throat that formed when he laid her down on his bed, and kissed her softly, nor did she expect to see the heartbreakingly sweet expression on his face when she finally dared to meet his eyes. She didn't expect him to feel so unbelievably good inside of her…she didn't expect to feel so much. Suddenly she appreciated the difference between half-hearted sex and…something else. It was in the way his lips captured hers with a hint of desperation, the way his hands caressed her body almost reverently, and the way she clung to him as they moved never quite feeling close enough. It wasn't just sex with Chris that she'd forget about the next morning. She knew she'd never be the same after this.

Alex also didn't expect it to be so perfectly natural the next morning…to actually want to stay in bed with him until they got dragged out. It was easy, it was comfortable and it kind of made her question her sanity for even considering this. Her gut told her that if they were really good friends they would survive the fallout when it finally rained down upon them…Her heart told her that they hadn't been 'good friends' for a long time now. He had too much of her to go back to who she had been before.

In retrospect, it was obvious he loved her right from the get go. She should've realized it, but instead she worked on denying it. She knew him too well to not know that he didn't look at anyone else like he looked at her. Part of it was probably not wanting to get her hopes up for fear that he would prove her wrong (he could've had anyone, so why would he pick her?) and part of it was her being afraid to give too much of herself to anyone…

They rolled over, both still sweaty and her still trembling. He pulled her close, pillowing her head on his chest and sighing contentedly into her hair. He was the only person she'd ever actually wanted to hold her at night. One hand trailed up and down her back while another pulled her fingers to his lips, kissing each one gently before pressing his mouth to her palm and then letting it come back to rest against his chest.

"See now…aren't you glad you came over?" he teased softly. She laughed lightly and pressed impossibly closer to him. Boundaries didn't exist anymore and he felt so damn good pressed against her.

Wordlessly, his thumb and finger found her chin, tilting her mouth towards his for a soft kiss. He was so sweet too and it made her ache at how much she felt for him.

"I'm glad you came over." He breathed against her as the kiss broke. She smiled crookedly. "It's not the same without you."

"What?" she retorted sarcastically; her throat thickened and she swallowed hard, trying her best to not sound like he'd flustered her. "Sleep?"

He nodded, his eyes serious.

"I can tell when you're not here."

His hand shifted hers, pulling over it the light thumping in his chest. He yawned and his eyes closed, tightening his hold on her. Her whole body warmed from the inside out when he did.

Maybe it was okay then, that he had her heart. After all, she had his.