FIRE [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 23: As Promised

Celeste had gone off to inform Gavin and Dom of their discoveries, and Aimee and Stefan were alone and still. After some while, Aimee's patience wore out and she asked Stefan what he was going to do, if he had a plan. His expression was stern as his eyes strayed from hers, and then his words crawled out of his mouth.

"I wish. I wish I had more time."

Aimee bent her knees to look at him, held his cheek in her palm, "For what?"

"To think. My mind is reeling; I don't know who or what to believe, I need time to process everything." He looked at her like he hoped things would change, like her eyes could transform the world and blink him into a new one, but he knew they could not.

Suddenly, he flung his door open and rushed out into the air, curing his case of mortal claustrophobia. He turned as though to absorb his surroundings, pulled a deep breath in through his nostrils, and then he started walking.

"Don't follow me!"

Aimee's wide eyes watched him in bewilderment. She called out behind him, but he seemed to ignore her, so of course she had no choice but to disobey his order, and before long, their quickened footsteps brought them to the underground parking lot. Aimee wanted to ask why they were there, but she guessed asking would be futile. The whole thing reminded her of the day they met, when he had asked her to stay in that room he had interrogated her in. He had the same look in his eye.

The walk had calmed Stefan down considerably, but he still hurried, past all the polished and pretentious automobiles, to a darkened corner. They had reached a large, industrial-looking door, and he typed in a passcode on a dim touchpad.

Aimee walked behind him and into the room. "Is this where you were headed that day – the day I licked your hand?"

"Yeah," he laughed slightly and cringed at once. "You still don't listen."

"Uh-uh."

Aimee gazed around at the simplistic room, the rows and rows of shelves and the brooms and the giant vacuum cleaner, which she briefly imagined taking for a spin down the aisles of the parking lot.

Everything was neat; every gadget on the shelves was specifically and intentionally placed in this converted double garage. Stefan sat on the floor, unbothered by the domestic dust, and Aimee joined him.

"It's like... my escape. Kind of like our tree at school," he said.

"Why this place?"

"Well," he sighed lightly. "It's quiet. I'd come here to avoid Buckley. Once, one of the janitors walked in while I was here. He closed the door behind him, sat down with me like this and asked me what was wrong. I was shocked; this stranger was the first person in a long time who actually wanted to know how I felt. So, on many more occasions, I'd confide in him and he would give me advice. Thinking back, I can hardly remember what I'd been so upset about, but I do remember thinking this man must be an amazing father."

"Does he still come here?" Aimee inquired gently, but Stefan shook his head. "I wish I could've met him."

"He would've liked you. I stopped coming here for some time, and when I finally came back I was told he had left GINM. That was about three years ago. I felt so angry and betrayed at the time, but I forgave him; I knew I couldn't blame him for moving on with his life. So, I moved on with mine. I started going on missions, training, doing what my dad told me to, even when I felt alone or like I'd kind of given up."

"Your dad," she whispered, paused, wondering if that was the first time she had heard him call Buckley that, that word. "Can you forgive him, like you forgave your friend?"

Stefan slowly wiped his thumb across her cheek. "In time," he admitted. "Have you forgiven Abba?"

She thought it over before she gave him an honest nod. "I think I have."

There were tears in his eyes in an instant, sneaking up on him, but that was the happiest Aimee had seen him in too long. And he smiled, almost amazed by her, and she could not understand what she had done to earn such a look.

"I used to think GINM was my only reality, like it was all I'd get from this life. Like I never was nor ever could be my own person. And then, Aimee, I met you. I was attracted to you because you seemed so perfectly ordinary, but now, I could never use the word 'ordinary' to describe you." Stefan's thumb had never left her cheek and he cupped her face in his hands, watched her smile her gentle, speechless smile. "You are this comfort, this strength that I desire more than anything. We're not just numbers on the Ranking List, you reminded me of that. You are my reality."

There was a moment in which all Aimee could do was stare into his eyes, as though she had finally realised, understood, his precocious love for her. A warm laugh released itself from her lips, and she then planted a kiss upon his.

"Stefan Summers, I love you so much!" the words were woven in between as she planted kiss after kiss like a farmer planted seeds.

She sat on Stefan's lap, and his hands rested on her waist as he returned her kisses dotingly. "Wait-wait-wait," he mumbled suddenly, hardly separating from her, his lemon-scented breath warm on her lips.

Stefan removed something from his pocket and poured it into Aimee's hands, before she lifted its silky white wrapping with fond care, exposing the tiny box within it.

"Told you we'd make it back," she heard Stefan say as she read the engraving on the box: For All the Promises I've Made, and Have Yet to Make.

"It's perfect."

"You haven't even –"

"Shhh," she pressed a finger to his lips. "I know it's perfect. I'll open it at home." She tucked it into her pocket.

"Okay," Stefan smiled. "I would've given it to you when we were at my place, but we were talking about microchips. I wanted to wait for a better time."

Aimee pushed him down gently so that he was lying supine. Her hands sneaked under his sweater and touched his chest, and she leaned in, and she kissed him again. They could worry about the microchips later; they had a moment – one untainted moment – enfolded in each other.