Discovering Loves Truth || Drabble turned Oneshot || Adrian x Rose

Drabble requested by Anon

Dedicated to Garet, the most perfect Adrian Ivashkov imaginable (the-adrian-ivashkov) .tumblr .com

Not proofed or edited. Please forgive mistakes, but at this point, I'm sick of looking at this beast. At 6,447 words, it kicked my ass and even made me cry a little. I hope I did justice to the idea of Rose and Adrian finally finding peace and working their way towards mending their friendship.

I'm sure there's some sort of protocol you're supposed to use when dropping in on an ex-boyfriends unannounced. Lissa could have reeled off a list of do's and don'ts, instructing me in whatever proper etiquette the situation called for, but this is me we're talking about—and let's face it, manners aren't exactly my strong suit. I mean, considering that I actually called our former queen a sanctimonious bitch it public—and that was actually a whole hell of a lot nicer than what I'd been thinking in my head at the time—the fact that I usually end up doing the exact opposite of what most people consider socially acceptable should be pretty obvious. So even thought I knew I should probably call Adrian and give him a heads up, I didn't. But in my own defense, there was a specific reason for my actions.

After the initial outburst he'd had while I was recovering from being shot, Adrian had gone out of his way to avoid me. When we did run into each other, the encounters had been… less than friendly, to say the least. We either pointedly ignored each other—and the incredibly thick tension in the air between us—or we retorted to snapping at each other, exchanging thinly veiled insults. I didn't blame him—it was a bad situation, one that only time could heal. So if I had called to alert him of my visit, the chances of him refusing to see me were pretty damned high.

I was understandably anxious when I knocked on the door; Adrian had always been slightly unpredictable. As a spirit user, he was prone to spells of something that was almost like madness, and the last thing I wanted was for my surprise visit to push him over the edge. Waiting for him to answer the door, I second guessed myself, wishing I had at least thought to bring Jill with me, in the event he needed someone to help him with the darkness. At the very least she could have acted as an intermediary between us when the fighting started—and inevitably, it would. I heard his voice on the other side of the door, but couldn't quite make out his words, then the door was opening, and I was face to face with my one time boyfriend for the first time in months. I tensed, waiting for him to explode at the sight of me standing on his doorstep.

If didn't happen. Instead, he simply stared at me, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

I honestly don't know who was more shocked at that point. I thought I'd prepared myself for having a face to face meeting with him, steeling myself not to react, no matter how bad he might appear. The last time I'd seen him had been the day we'd dropped the group off in Palm Springs, and to say he'd been a mess would have been putting it kindly. He'd been binging on his clove cigarettes and booze for weeks, partying hard, I assumed, in an effort to keep the memories of what had happened at bay. The man standing in front of me wasn't the irritable, hung over Adrian that I'd expected, but instead was a sober, healthier looking version. He was splattered from head to toe in paint, even having some in his hair, and I bit my lip in an effort not to smile, instinctively knowing my amusement would irritate him.

For one, tiny instant, his forehead crinkled up as he frowned; I could see a pained look in his eyes, one that disappeared so fast that it made me wonder if I had imagined seeing it in the first place. His lips curled up in his trademark smirk as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe. "Well well. This is a surprise. Tell me, why exactly is the Queen's head Guardian banging down my door?"

I tried to match his light, jovial tone, shrugging. "Would you believe I got lost and needed directions?"

He snorted in a very un-Adrian like manner. "That's a good one, but you'll have to do better than that. We both know that even if you took a wrong turn and ended up in the middle of the Pacific, you wouldn't admit you were lost Rose."

He stepped to the side, giving me a mock bow and gesturing for me to enter. "Mind if I ask what brings you to our sunny little Oasis?"

"Lissa needed someone to check on Jill. She was worried about how the darkness might be affecting her."

"I'm surprised Belikov didn't have a problem with this little visit," he said.

"He wasn't happy about it, considering the situation with the Warriors, but—"

He cut me off abruptly. "I meant you coming here... to see me."

That threw me for a minute. "Why would he care? He trusts me."

"I trusted you too—and look where it got me." There was no malice in his tone, only the slightest hint of reproach, and that made me feel a hundred times worse, making me flinch involuntarily.

"Adrian—"

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

I reached out, but dropped my hand unwilling to be rebuffed if I touched him. "Yes… yes, you should have. It's something we have to talk about, whether we want to or not. Better to get it all out in the open now so we can talk about—"

"Rose—"

"The reason I'm here." I continued on, ignoring his interruption. "I mean, I know—"

"Rose!" His voice was more forceful, and I stopped abruptly, giving him a pointed look. I hated being interrupted—and he knew it. "Let me clean up first, okay? Then we can hash it all out." He chuckled, looking down at his paint spattered clothes. "I'm going to take a quick shower—make yourself at home."

I nodded, looking around the apartment as he exited the room. It was nice, but not the kind of place I ever would have pictured Adrian living in. Before, his quarters had always been opulent; even when he'd stayed at the Academy, he'd been given the finest guest suite available, one befitting a member of the illustrious Ivashkov family. His apartment was nothing like that, instead it was… almost homey and comfortable looking.

I could hear the sound of the shower start up as I wandered around taking in my surroundings, and a moment later I heard something that made me laugh out loud. Adrian was singing, slightly off key. My amusement was short lived, however, as my aimless pacing took me closer to the bedroom and my tired brain processed exactly what the lyrics were.

"She's a mystery…
My most beautiful regret…
I will never understand her,
She's a mystery…
The only promise I can keep…
Even in my dreams she ruins me.

She's anything in the world…
That you cannot explain…
But when she throws me a smile,
It's fire in the rain."

A swift, sharp pain lanced through my chest. I wasn't in love with Adrian—I never had been—but I did love and care about him as a friend. It hurt to recognize the significance in his song choice. Likewise, it made me realize that while finding someone new might have healed his broken heart, it hadn't erased the pain I'd involuntarily inflicted on him. That ache would linger on, and unfortunately, it might never go away.

Behind me, a strange buzzing drew my attention away from his voice; I recognized the sound, it was a cell phone set to vibrate. Glancing around, I spotted it on the coffee table and with a quick glance over my shoulder towards the bedroom I crossed the room, scooping it up and staring down at the illuminated display which indicated one unread text. I knew I shouldn't snoop, and I wish I could say that was enough to stop me, but it wasn't. After a brief argument with my conscious—during which I reminded myself that Adrian had already pointed out that I'd betrayed his trust before—I gave into temptation. The fact that it might be his human girlfriend made it completely impossible to resist; I could potentially be holding the answer to all my questions right in the palm of my hand. I unlocked the phone and began trying to figure out how to access the message.

My spirits fell when I saw who the sender was. I'd been expecting to solve the mystery that was clawing away at my brain, but instead it was only a message from Sydney. Glancing at the message, I was just about to turn the phone off and return it to the table when I comprehended exactly what it was I was looking at.
'Rose suspects—she knows you're seeing a human and she's trying to find out a name. Call me.'

Knowing how the Alchemist felt about Moroi, the very fact she was willing to help Adrian conceal his girlfriend from me was amazing. Sure I was irritated that she was trying to hide things from me, but I was impressed with her dedication to the assignment in Palm Springs. Hearing the water shut off, I replaced the phone and sank down on the couch, tipping my head back and closing my eyes in an attempt to cover my snooping. It worked; when Adrian entered the room a few minutes later, it was obvious he thought I'd fallen asleep.

He practically tiptoed to my side, calling my name in a hushed, quite voice, and if it wouldn't have given me away, I might have smiled at his hesitance to wake me. Everyone knew I hated being disturbed when napping—something he apparently remembered.

"Rose…. Wake up…"

Slitting my eyes open in what I hoped was a convincing manner, I scowled as I peered up at him. "Has anyone ever told you that you can't carry a tune?"

His cautious expression disappeared, replaced by one of mirth as he laughed at my statement. It was a sound I'd missed over the last few months. Adrian's laughter was infectious; it made my attempt to appear angry vanish in thin air. A broad smile broke out across my face as I looked up at him, pleased to know that no matter what had happened between us, I could still amuse him.

"So did you actually manage to put any paint on a canvas? Because from the way you looked when I came in, I'm guessing the answer is no."

"Ah, there's that Rose Hathaway sarcasm I know and love." He almost winced as soon as the words left his mouth, and it was impossible to ignore the way they hung, tense and heavy in the air between us. I knew he had meant it in a joking manner, but it hit entirely too close to home, making us both uncomfortable.

Searching my mind for something—anything—to end the tense silence that seemed to be pressing down on us like a weight, I spouted out the first thing I latched onto that wouldn't start a fight. "So… are you gonna show me your latest masterpiece?"

"No."

"No?" I shot him a curious look. "Why not?"

"It's… not finished." Adrian patted his pockets—a gesture I recognized all too well—and I couldn't contain a sigh as I struggled to bite back a comment on the dangers of smoking. "I need one, okay?"

"I didn't say a word!"

"You didn't have to—you gave me 'the look'. He produced his pack and pulled out one of the black clove cigarettes, resuming the search—presumably for his lighter.

"What look?" I honestly had no idea what he meant.

"The 'I'm not going to harass you about your disgusting habit, but it's killing me to hold it in' look." He smirked at me, gesturing towards the door. "I'll go outside so your lungs don't get polluted."

I was surprised that he'd go out of his way just to satisfy me. "Thanks Adrian. I really appreciate it, but it's your apartment—"

"No worries—I'm trying not to smoke inside." He paused at the door and looked back at me with an almost shy expression on his face. That threw me almost as much as his offer to smoke outside—Adrian was many things—cocky, egocentrically, and at times just plain overbearing—but he was never unsure of himself. He looked almost… nervous as he played with his cigarette. "If you're interested in my work, I have some finished paintings in the closet."

He didn't wait for me to respond—he just walked out the door as if it didn't matter to him whether I took him up on the offer or not. If he'd stuck around for a few more seconds he'd have seen me making a beeline for the closet. There was no way I was going to pass up the chance to see Adrian's paintings. I'd seen his sketches before, but those had been quickly drawn on napkins or loose leaf paper, taking only a few minutes to complete. These would be the real deal, each one representing hours if not days of painstaking work, the finished product giving a rare hidden glimpse into the inner workings of his mind.

I expected to find three or four canvases—but in actuality there were over two dozen, carefully stacked and draped with a thin cotton blanket covering them. Crouching down, I pulled them out one at a time, studying them carefully. I'm no art critic, but the fact he had talent was obvious—almost as obvious as the change in the paintings themselves as I progressed through the stack. Each one was labeled with a title and the date of its completion on the back, but I didn't need to see the dates to know when they'd been created. The earliest ones were dark and depressing; most were black and red with an occasional hint of charcoal, the strokes jagged and harsh. Looking at them was almost painful; it was like the artist had taken his emotions and mixed his agony in with the paint, coating the canvas with his torment in a futile attempt to exorcize it from his mind. The fact the red often bore an abstract resemblance to a rose wasn't lost on me. It only confirmed what I already suspected—these paintings represented Adrian's feelings immediately after his arrival in Palm Springs. When I came to one piece—a beautifully rendered brown eye with long, dark lashes, I almost dropped the painting. It was so perfectly rendered it was hard to believe he had painted it from memory. It was my eye—and somehow he'd even managed to convey the emotions I thought I'd kept hidden from him. Staring at it I could sense the grief and loss I'd carried for such a long, long time; it made me wonder if he'd always suspected that even when we were together I was longing for someone else—Dimitri.

Gradually, the paintings changed. The colors switched from drab and dismal to ones I associated with lighter feelings, like happiness and hope. Their shades alternated between calming, peaceful blues and bright, almost metallic golds, interwoven with an occasional daub of claret to accent the designs. And the strokes themselves were different too, swirling and graceful, as if he were no longer driven by pain, but instead was fueled by something that inspired him. The newest pieces were soothing and filled me with the strangest feeling of… well, peace, for lack of a better word, as strange as that may sound. I stared at the final canvas, reaching out to trace my finger along the edges of the flowers it held; each was beautifully formed, so perfect it was like staring at a photograph. One half was dark, the other light—in the foreground a dark red rose sat beside a beautiful gilded lily, their stems intertwined. Out of all the paintings I'd seen, this one was the one that touched me the most. I could almost sense that with this particular piece, the journey I'd witnessed from the depths of despair towards a new, fresh start had been complete. And the fact that the lily was identical to the one on a certain Alchemist's cheek made me realize that Sydney Sage was much, much more to Adrian than just a liaison to the court, and she was a hell of a lot more than just a friend.

"I finished that one about a week ago."

I jumped at the sound of his voice, so wrapped up in the beautiful imagery that I'd been unaware of his return. "Jesus Adrian. Put a fucking bell on or something."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," I answered truthfully, guiltily jerking my hand back from where I'd been stroking the paint. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't be touching it."

"You can do whatever you want with it—I painted it for you."

I glanced up at him, stunned. "What? Adrian—"

"Turn it over." His voice was soft, filled with a sort of sense of loss that I recognized. I felt it all the time, whenever I thought about how badly things had ended between us.

Carefully I flipped the painting over and peered at the label, trying to decipher his artistically messy handwriting. It was titled 'Discovering Loves Truth' and underneath it, in large block letters, he had printed out 'for Rose'. "Why would you make this for me?"

"Because you told me that you weren't the one for me. That you didn't balance me like I needed. You said that when I found that person, I would know it. And you said I was strong. You were right—about all of it." He walked over and took the canvas out of my hands, examining it with a critical eye for a moment before continuing. "I hate the way things happened, but I'm strong enough now to admit that some of the things you said that day were pretty damned accurate."

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. "And some of them were harsh, and shouldn't have been said," I offered.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He kept his gaze on the painting, not looking in my direction.

"What?"

"Why weren't you just honest with me? It's not like I was unavailable—I kept visiting you in your dreams. You could have said something." He sounded completely calm, not betraying a hint of emotion.

"Adrian… I wanted to talk to you in person. To explain—"

"When did it start?" His jaw tensed as he cut me off. I watched him set the painting down and move over to the first one I'd pulled out—one that was black with angry looking slashes of red running down the middle, making me think of jagged claw marks.

"Does it really matter?" I kept my voice even, speaking softly, not wanting the conversation to dissolve into a fight.

He spun around, his expression almost tormented. "It matters to me," he said, his voice rising, "How long was it before you fell back in his arms? A day? Two?" He closed his eyes for a minute, struggling—I supposed—to control his anger. "I sent the woman I loved off with her ex—a man she claimed she was over—in an effort to save her life. I think I deserve the truth."

My temper flared—as always—at the worst possible time. "You knew I had feelings for him! Hell, you probably knew he still loved me too! You could see it in our fucking auras from day one!"

He gave a bitter, mirthless laugh, running his hands through his already tousled hair. "It's not exactly like they give out handbooks Rose—it's a learn as you go process. Sure I noticed there was a difference when the two of you were together—but I didn't know what it meant. Not then." He stared at me, unblinking, his green eyes intent. "You still haven't answered me. When did the cheating start?"

My anger drained away and I shifted my gaze, unable to look directly at him. He was right—he deserved the truth—but acknowledging that fact didn't make answering him any easier. "The night before we came back."

He looked at me skeptically for a minute, like he didn't believe me, but then his expression shifted as he remembered our encounter that night, and he closed his eyes as realization hit home. "Guess now I know why your aura was so bright—you must have just… Jesus. Talk about bad timing."

"If you want the honest truth Adrian—the complete truth—that's not when it started. That's just when…" I trailed off, not wanting to voice my thoughts. "It was always there. I always loved him."

"You don't pull any punches, do you? You just can't resist rubbing salt in my wounds."

"I should have told you everything. Not that night—but as soon as I came back from Russia. But I couldn't face it then. I thought I had killed the only man I would ever love—my other half—and I needed your friendship. You never seemed to understand how I felt after the attack. It was… it was as if my soul had died in that cave right along with him. I was still walking around, talking and breathing… but I wasn't alive. I was just going through the motions. Even so, I tried to do the right thing—to keep the promises I made, to you and to him. I tried to move on… but I couldn't. He's always been the one Adrian. Even when he was a Strigoi…"

"You were… different when you came back. You were broken. I thought it was because of the things I saw when I visited your dreams… all those bites—"

"He couldn't help it!" My fists clenched at my sides as I struggled to control the urge to strike out at him, furious that he'd bring something like that into the discussion. "It wasn't him—he protected me… defended me against the others."

"Of course. Even as a Strigoi you would consider him a saint." He sneered at me, any headway we had made while discussing his painting shattering into a million tiny pieces around us.

"Grow the fuck up Adrian," I snapped, shaking my head. "It wasn't his fault. When he was turned… everything good and decent about him was erased. Maybe it's easier for me to accept because I know firsthand what it's like to be taken over by something dark… something that makes you violent and…" A strange comparison entered my head, one I'd never considered before. Whatever I was about to say was lost as my mind reeled, and for a moment my knees actually went weak and I swear I saw spots. It was like the thoughts coursing through my head had sent me into shock.

"Rose? What's wrong?" Adrian's concerned voice reached through the waves of gray, and I shook my head, struggling to compose myself.

"Nothing… I just… hang on a minute." He watched as I struggled to piece together the half formed images in my mind, his fingers twitching as if he were fighting an internal battle of his own, trying not to reach for the cigarette he needed. "Go ahead and smoke, it won't kill me."

"No, but whatever you're thinking might—I swear to God you went white as a sheet." He lit up and I relaxed slightly at the sweet, cloying scent of the cloves drifted over to me. As much as I hated the smell, it was something familiar that I could cling to as I contemplated the horrific theory forming in my head. "Oh God. I know that expression. Whatever you're thinking can't be good. "

I shot him a dark look. "You have no idea what I'm thinking."

"No, I don't, but I do know you, Rose. Whenever you concentrate this hard, chaos ensues."

I shook my head, irritated. "I just thought of something… something that makes sense in a weird, terrifying, out there kind of way." I sighed, wanting to test my theory out on him, knowing it would be easier to discuss it with him than with Dimitri. Bouncing this idea off the man I loved would be unbelievably hard, because his time as a Strigoi was a subject we avoided. It brought back too many bad memories about things that still haunted him. He had forgiven himself, but still, sometimes when I looked into his eyes, I could see the deep seated sorrow he would probably carry with him forever.

"No one really knows where Strigoi originated, right? I mean, we know that dark magic reanimates them, but that's it." I spoke slowly, trying to make sense out of my frenzied, chaotic thoughts. "When the dark side of spirit took over, it wiped out all rational thought. All I could think about was violence… Adrian—what if spirit's darkness is what animates them?"

I glanced over at him, wondering if he understood what I was saying. If the stunned look on his face was anything to go by—I'd venture a guess that he grasped the concept. "Rose…"

"Just listen! Moroi hold traces of all the elements magic—now we know that includes spirit too. What if when a Moroi drains someone… what if it gives spirit… a boost or something—but not the positive aspect of it, but the dark side, because of the… evilness—for lack of a better word—of the act? What if that's the dark magic that awakens them?"

Adrian was staring at me like I'd suddenly grown a second head. I hurried on, wanting to get it all out before he shot down the theory. "When the Strigoi uses blood to awaken someone—maybe some of the darkness siphons off into the new host—sort of like how it jumped from Lissa's aura to mine when we were bonded. It would explain everything—maybe a restored Strigoi can't be reawakened because the influx of the positive, healing side of spirit acts like… like an inoculation or something, making them immune. Like chickenpox, you know? I'm willing to bet it also slows down the madness from affecting Sonya—she's a hell of a lot more stable now than she used to be, and she's using spirit all the time."

Adrian shook his head, looking dazed. "Rose—"

"I know it sounds insane, but it could be true!" I paced, my mind still going a million miles a minute, amazed that the answer could have been staring us in the face all along.

"Rose—"

"It's just a theory… maybe we could—"

"Rose!" He grabbed my arm, and the fact he was voluntarily touching me shocked me into silence. "It's absolutely brilliant."

My lips tugged up in a small grin at the blatant admiration in his voice—it was something I never thought I would hear again. "You really think so?"

He smiled at me, and it wasn't the fake smile he'd given me since our breakup—it was a genuine, one hundred percent Adrian Ivashkov grin. "I do. People tend to forget that there's a sharp mind behind that beautiful face. I know I did, and I'm sorry for that."

I blushed a little, pleased by the compliment. It meant a lot to me—especially coming from him. "I need to make some calls. Sonya and Dimi—" I caught myself, afraid that mentioning my boyfriends name would destroy the momentary truce between us.

"You can say his name Rose. I won't flip out." Adrian released my arm, his smile wilting a little. "I was forced to work with him, remember?"

"I didn't want to make things uncomfortable between us again. It feels good, talking to you again." And it did. It made me remember all the fun times we'd had together—not as a couple, but back before our doomed relationship had entered into the equation, skewering the dynamic of our friendship. They were good memories, but bittersweet at the same time, because they made me think about something I'd honestly never considered before.

Adrian had always put me first—his own needs and desires taking a backseat to whatever it was I wanted. Even today he had done it, leaving his own apartment earlier to smoke because he knew how much I hated it. From the moment we'd met he had done anything and everything he possibly could to help me when I needed it. Whether it was something small—like cheering me up—or tackling something that seemed insurmountable—say, getting us to Victors trial, or funding my trip to Russia—he had always come through for me. He'd even risked his own sanity by giving up booze and cutting back on smoking in an attempt to please me.

And how had I repaid him? With lies and deception, hurting him more than I'd ever imagined was possible. I felt my eyes flood with hot, shame filled tears, but I refused to let them fall. If they did, he would do the gentlemanly thing and try to comfort me—and that was the last thing on earth I deserved.

I bit my lip and took a deep breath, then looked him in the eye. "Adrian—I am so, so sorry for what happened. I know it's not enough, and I know there's nothing I can do or say to erase the pain I caused, but I really, truly mean it. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you and regret the way I handled things."

He stood there, silent, just staring at me for the longest time. Finally I sighed, turning to head for the door. I had to get out of there before I completely broke down. I could call Sonya and Dimitri from the car—after I let go of the flood of tears that were welling up inside me.

"Rose… wait!"

I paused, my hand on the doorknob, my damned renegade tears breaking free and trailing down my cheeks. Resting my head against the wood, I listened as he approached, then steeled myself to turn and face him. "What?"

I expected to see anger at my tears, or maybe even bitter amusement at my being upset. What I didn't expect was the look of compassion on his face. "I understand why you did it. You can't fight love—not the kind that you and Belikov have. Now that I've felt it for myself…" His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "It still hurts that you did it, but I get it now. And I forgive you."

A small sob escaped me, and before I even realized what was happening we were both in motion, closing the brief distance between us—for once moving towards each other instead of away. As his arms encircled me and I hugged him back, the most amazing sense of peace descended on me. This… this was what I had been waiting for. Having Adrian's forgiveness made my life finally feel complete.

"I've really missed you," I whispered.

He chuckled a little, releasing me and reaching down to gently wipe away my tears. "I've missed you too, Little dhampir."

At the sound of that ridiculous nickname my tears started again, even as I laughed. "God—I even missed hearing that."

"Of course you did. Everyone knows I come up with the best nicknames."

I groaned, swiping at my eyes. "Sure you do. Keep telling yourself that."

He gave me a look that was pure Adrian—a mix of charm and arrogance that no one else on earth could have pulled off. "I do. It's a fact. Like Agent Boring Borscht. You have to admit, that's pretty creative—and catchy."

"Oh my God. Seriously? You did not call him that." I couldn't help but giggle, imagining the expression on Dimitri's face at the name.

He grinned, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "Not to his face, I didn't. I may be crazy, but I'm not suicidal." He studied me for a minute, the his smile widened. "So, you got time to let a devastatingly handsome ex take you out to dinner? Of course, you're buying. This crazy dhampir I was dating drained my trust fund searching the globe for her Russian Warlord, so now, I'm a starving artist."

I glanced at my watch, feeling a pang of genuine regret. "I'd love to Adrian, but I can't—I probably need to leave now or else I might miss my flight."

"I thought you needed to talk to me about something?" He looked at me, his confusion written across his face.

I smiled at him and shook my head. "Nothing important—it can wait."

"Nope—now you've got my curiosity peaked. What was it about?" He moved in front of the door, trapping me inside.

Looking up at him, thinking about the things he'd said, there was no way in hell I could have the conversation I'd mapped out in my head. So I said the only thing I could—and honestly, it was the only thing that mattered in the end, anyway. "That girl you've been seeing… I'm happy for you. But you tell her that if she hurts you, she better run, cause if that happens… she's gonna have me to contend with."

To say he looked completely floored would have been an understatement. He opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. When he was finally able to talk, he sounded almost hesitant. "You know about her? I mean, I know I said I had found someone… but do you know that she's—"

"Human? Yes. And I suspect I know who she is, too. But I don't want you to feel pressured to tell me anything until you feel ready. I don't care who she is, or what she is. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters."

"Jesus Rose. You've really changed." He shook his head, smiling a little. "I never thought I'd say this, but you and Belikov… you're good for each other."

"He knew about you and… her… and he never told me. When I mentioned it to him this afternoon he said he kept it a secret because he understood what you were feeling."

His handsome face crinkled up in a grimace. "Damn it—why'd you have to tell me that? Now I'm going to have to be nice to him."

"Adrian—when he was first restored… when he tried to convince me that he didn't love me anymore…" I had to stop for a minute to control my emotions—even now, knowing it had been a lie, it still hurt remembering his words. "He told me you were a good man. He respects you. Maybe now that I'm not in the way… someday the two of you could be friends. Stranger things have happened."

"Maybe." He looked thoughtful as he walked over and picked up the painting he'd made me, bringing it over and handing it to me with a smile. "I certainly don't hate him. Not anymore."

"That's good. Now I really do have to go."

He moved to the side opening the door for me, then grabbed my arm as I walked past, pulling me into another quick hug. "What made you change your mind? About Moroi and humans being… involved?"

"Nothing. I still feel the same way I always have about them. But like I said before, your happiness is more important to me than anything else. You've changed too, you know. You're happier and more stable than I've ever seen you." Pulling away I smiled at him, sad to leave. "I wish we had more time to talk. Maybe I can come back in a few weeks. I'd like to be formerly introduced to her… meet her as your girlfriend and not… you know."

"So you can put the fear of Rose Hathaway in her?" He teased.

"No, so I can thank her for helping you heal. And for helping me get one of my best friends back."

He nodded, his eyes holding a look that I couldn't quite place. They were deep and mysterious—and full of secrets I'd probably never figure out. "Take care little dhampir. Tell your Russian I said he better take care of you."

I was almost to my car when I heard him shout my name. Glancing over my shoulder I saw him standing at the building's entrance with a sly looking grin on his face. Not wanting to retrace my steps, I turned to face him, walking backwards towards my car. "What?"

"I was just thinking—a few weeks is way too long to wait for us to catch up on everything."

I stopped, confused. "I won't be able to get away before then, Adrian. Lissa needs me to—"

"Relax Rose, I just meant that you'd be seeing me a lot sooner than that."

I stared at him, not believing my ears. I was afraid to hope that he meant what I thought, knowing the disappointment would crush me if I were mistaken. "You mean…"

"Of course I do. But you better not complain about whatever it is I dress you in. Now get going. I'll see you later tonight."

I couldn't stop smiling as I climbed into the car, carefully sliding the beautiful painting behind the drivers seat. The fact that Adrian was willing to enter my dreams again was just further proof of how far we'd come today. Not only had I made what might be an amazing breakthrough concerning Strigoi, but against all odds, I'd managed to earn Adrian's forgiveness. We were on the road to mending our relationship, and while I knew there would be pitfalls and setbacks along the way—like when he realized I'd snooped through his text messages—but that was to be expected. We still had things to resolve and deal with, but for the first time, I actually had faith that we would succeed. It would be a difficult journey getting back to the friendship we'd had before; one with tears and hurt feelings, and probably a screaming match or two, but it would be worth it. The things that matter in life are the ones you have to work for—and I knew that better than anyone.