Because of you I can feel myself
slowly but surely
becoming the me
I have always dreamed
of being.

-Tyler Knott Gregson

"Every time I come here I turn into such a fat-ass." He said, and I giggled as he motioned at me for another bite. The restaurant was small -tiny actually, with only 15 tables crammed in together- and nestled between little book shops and cafes on a quiet, cobblestoned street in a quaint town of narrow alleys and crooked old buildings. Not far from the rolling hills and fields where red poppies bloomed in the spring, and just on the edge of Florence, it was easy to see why Tuscany was so satisfying. We were smushed comfortably in the far back corner, opting to sit next to each other as we sampled off each other's plates and indulged in flights of wine. The old brick walls seemed to dance in the flickering light of the votives on each table, the space so tiny that not much further illumination was required.

I was full of pasta and fuzzy from the wine, soft and comfortable curled up next to him in the corner and laughing at his comment as he slung an arm over my shoulders. I swirled some penne through the creamy vodka sauce and fed it to him.

"Now, when you say 'fat-ass', does that mean your body fat percentage goes from 3% to something crazy like, 4%?" He took a swig of wine, furrowed his brow and pouted while nodding. I loved this playful Edward, and I reeled back drammatically, feigning horror.

"Oh Edward you slovenly pig, for shame!"

We both laughed.

It had been an incredible trip, and we were reaching our vacation's finish line with three days to go. We'd already spent two days in Tuscany; indulging in the savory wine and breathtaking basilicas, four days in Paris; strolling through the snowy streets of the 7th district and getting lost in the splendor of the museums, and a week in England; where we tucked ourselves away in the cozy pubs of old London and took long drives throught the countryside in Surrey before continuing on throught Kent, Basildon Park, and Stevenson. England was my first pick when he asked where I wanted to go. I wanted to see the towns and cities associated with Jane Austen's books. Even though they'd be drastically different from the time when she wrote of them, it was exhilarating to stand there knowing that she existed there, and that her characters and stories were the products of these places. It was incredible, and satisfyed some of the wanderlust I'd been plagued with for so long. The best moment by far had been our very first night in England.

We had rented an SUV and before leaving the lot Edward had blindfolded me in the front seat, saying that it was a surprise. I of course replied that I'd never been outside New York so it was all a surprise and there wasn't much need for a blind fold, to which he responded,

"I don't want you to see the sky. Just trust me." I had no clue what he meant but I trusted him so we chatted animatedly as he drove us to our destination. Nearly an hour later he stopped and powered down the engine, signaling our arrival. As he opened my door and helped me out I couldn't help giggling in anticipation of whatever it was he was planning. It was extremely cold, with fresh snow under my boots and it was eerily quiet. All I could hear was the sound of our breathing and our footsteps in the snow. Finally, we stopped.

"Ready?" He asked, holding my gloved hands in his. I nodded, and I felt him work at the knot and the fabric fell from my eyes. I was met first with his lovely gaze, then looking around me I found us standing alone in a snow covered field several yards from the SUV, which was parked in front of the most charming, brick English cottage. Incandescent light glowed from the windows, and smoke puffed from the chimney. It looked warm and inviting and like it would be the perfect place to curl up with tea and a book. I was elated, and launched myself at Edward, hugging him fiercely.

"It's perfect. I love it." I breathed into his chest. He pulled back from me and smiled.

"That's not the surprise." He said, and motioned skyward. My gaze followed his own and I was left speechless. The black sky was smattered with glittering stars. Peppered heavily across the land; twinkling specks of light bright enough to rival the glowing white moon they danced around. I'd seen these kinds of skys in books and films, they never seemed like they could be real. An entire galaxy of speckled light that we were a part of: so far away and yet right there. Living in one of the biggest cities in the world had unique benefits that set it apart from living anywhere else, but at the cost of some things that everyone else considers a normal part of life. A yard to run around in, a driveway for your car, and stars.

I had caught Edward gazing at me the way that every girl wishes a guy would look at her, and his arm came around to pull me close.

"When you told me you'd never left New York City, I knew that meant you'd never seen stars." He said, following my gaze back to the sky. "There are certain things in life that everyone should see. Snow, the ocean, and stars like these. You have to go to dimly lit parts of the world to see them, but they're worth the effort. When we get back to the states, we'll go to Maine. Maine has stars like these."

Between the chilly winter wonderland around us, the picturesque story book cottage we'd be staying in and the glittering midnight sky, I found my heart soaring with excitement and exhuberant joy, and just before I could start welling up, he grinned and kissed me.

Paris was every bit romantic as you would hope it to be. I had been surprised yet again when Ed ushered me into a hotel lobby beautiful enough to rival the Plaza Hotel outside Central Park, and positively floored when he handed his American Express black card to the man at Check-In and started rattling off in the most elaborate French. I was positive I bore the face of perfect stupification, because he turned back to me and started laughing. He laced metal fingers through mine and pulled me toward the elevator.

The bellhops had delivered our luggage to the room and left by the time we opened the door to the suite, and my state of awestruck enchantment only continued. Where the English cottage was cozy and quaint with it's warm flannel blankets, shabby chic furniture, rustic fireplace and old world charm, the suite in Paris was opulent; with expensive silks and hand-carved barroque furnishings, crystal chandeliers and uniformed hotel staff with crisp white gloves carrying silver trays from room to room. In England he had payed top dollar for quiet, romantic countryside just outside London. Here his hard-earned money was buying King size goose feather beds with bottles of Cristal on the nightstand and a wrought iron balcony that looked out over the city and served as a perfect perch to gaze at the Eiffel Tower. We were both so damn happy that we broke open the Cristal, got hammered, had wild sex and spent the entire next day in bed with horrible hangovers. After sampling the incredible art and even more incredible food, we would drag ourselves back to the hotel, slightly drunk on chocolate-dipped croissants, rum-soaked petite madelines, and raspberries drenched in champagne. He would close the door, push me up against it, and kiss me deep and slow so I could revisit the tastes of the sugars and liquors off his tongue.

I was roused from deep, drunken slumber by the bed shaking slightly. I turned over to find Edward tossing and turning, clenching the sheets and squeezing his eyes shut as beads of sweat rolled down his brow. I sat up and moved to comfort him but stopped suddenly, remembering what happened the last time I tried to wake him from a nightmare. My throat tightened involuntarily and I pulled my hand back, watching him. Waiting to see if it would stop. But he only continued to suffer in his sleep and I was at an agonizing loss for what to do. A thought clicked in my mind and I grabbed my pillow, holding it in front of me as I crept closer to wake him. That way if he tried to strangle whoever he was dreaming about, when he reached out he'd be grabbing my pillow and not me. I knew it was a pathetic idea to think a down pillow could stop him attacking me, but I was feeling ballsy. My heart pounded as I kneeled over him and soothed my hand across his cheek, calming him almost instantly. I was shaking a little, suddenly wondering if this might've been a bad idea, but I let out a relieved sigh when his eyes blinked open and his hand went to cover mine.

"What happened?" He croaked, panting as he tried to pull himself calmly into the waking world. His clouded, tired gaze met mine and his eyes widened. "Did I-"

"-No. Nothing happened, I'm fine. Are you okay?" I interjected. He said nothing as he sat up slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow. I scooted closer to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He exhaled, and the moonlight shining in the window gleamed off his metal hand and he raked his fingers through his loose hair.

"It's always the same dream," He said, focusing his attention on the twisted sheets. "I wake up to a blinding light above me, and three dark figures come into my view. Its the surgeons, and they're confused. Looking at me, then at eachother, back and forth. They don't speak, and their confusion quickly shifts into horror when they realize their mistake. I sit up, see what they've done to me, and I lose control. The worst part is how alone I felt. No clue who I am or how I got there, what they wanted, with no one to help me. They implanted me with a defense trigger. I had no choice but to save myself at all costs. I can still hear the screams."

I sat in silence listening, wishing I could offer any form of comforting advice. He took my hand in his and looked at me.

"It's gotten better though. I used to have that nightmare all the time, at least once a week. But when I came to live with you, those numbers shrank. In the months we lived at your place I got some of the best sleep of my life. I only had that nightmare two or three times." This offered me a shred of hope.

"Roy said that you have violent outbursts from the nightmares due to stress."

He nodded, and pulled me to sit beside him.

"It's part of my PTSD." His eyes darkened. "When you got caught in the crossfire, I had just come from the most agonizing 9 hour flight. I thought you might be dead and I had spent half a day panicking about it, trying to tie up loose ends so I could get back to you."

"Why didn't you call Roy or Riza since I wasn't answering?"

"I didn't want anyone to know I was still in contact with you, and it's a good thing I didn't give myself away." I remembered then how he said Mustang got a note threatening to firebomb my apartment if Edward didn't leave. we laid back down and I let my body melt into his.

"I don't mean to make light of the situation," I started softly. "But if it helps, maybe this all happened for a reason. What if there's some big, cosmic reason that we should be in eachother's lives? Maybe this was the only way we would've met." The feel of his fingers gently running through my hair and softly stroking my scalp sent waves of warmth curling through me, and just as my mind was slipping under, he murmured softly,

"That's a good way to think of it." He kissed my head and sleep claimed me.

The Italian villa was old. With creaky floors and clanky pipes, chips and cracks in the tile floors and dust on everything. It had history. It had character. I loved it. The terracotta-colored walls were textured with stucco and the furnature was old and minimal. The only thing it really had going for it was it's unexpected ability to hold warmth from the fireplace. But we weren't in Tuscany to spend time in the villa, we were there to drink wine and eat and gaze at the Tuscan sunset after long days of walking through Florence. After polishing off the penne, I was battling Edward for the last bite of chocolate hazelnut Italian cheesecake when his phone started vibrating on the table. Mustang's name displayed on the screen and we both stopped. It stopped after the fourth ring.

"If we don't get a voicemail, we're fine. He's probably just checking in." Edward said, eyeing his phone suspiciously. I took the opportunity to snag the last bite and threw my hands up in victory. Ed grinned and geared up to tackle me in retaliation when his phone began ringing again. This time we looked at eachother.

"You better get it." I said. His expression instantly soured and he snatched up his phone.

"I'm busy." He barked at the phone.

*Nice to hear from you too, Fullmetal. You sound uncommonly grouchy for someone who's been rolling around the mediterranean in a sea of wine and pasta like a pig in a trough.*

"Cut to the chase, I'm at dinner with someone and you're forcing me to be rude." He said winking at me. Mustang knew I was here, he was less than thrilled the day we walked into his office hand-in-hand and said we were leaving the country.

*I need you to relocate your dinner to New York.*

"Fat chance, we've got three more days before we head home."

*If you don't come home now I'll have to postpone the wedding.* Edward and I shot confused looks at eachother and said in unison,

"What wedding?"

A/N: I feel awful for taking so long to update. It's not how I like to operate and I'm sorry. Thank you all for toughing it out.