He didn't know why he thought that when she undressed herself, she'd be stripping the formalities, too. When he looked back on it in the weeks that followed, he felt foolish for thinking he'd be Roy in private and she'd be Riza. The fact that he had the muscles on her abdomen memorized now, or that he knew what she looked like fully-exposed with her hair down as she moved on top of him didn't change her addressing him as "Colonel."

And then a month passed from when she'd showed up at his door, drenched from rain and upset about something she didn't want to talk about and unbuttoned his shirt without a word. It'd been a month since he'd touched her skin. Kissed her neck, smelled her that strongly. He began to wonder if that was the first and last time that would ever happen. She didn't acknowledge it again, and he was afraid to bring it up. He wouldn't know what to say even if he tried.

He wasn't even fully sure what had happened. He'd never made love before. All his sexual encounters before that were meaningless. And then, he wasn't completely positive that what they did was make love. But all the while that it was happening there was something powerful stirring in his soul. And when she dressed herself and quietly slipped away without a word, he felt empty.

He recognized fact that he loved her years ago, though he wasn't sure at what point his love actually began. But his love for her never quite had the same agony it did that night, with the ghost of her scent still lingering over him, the reality of the situation sinking in. No, that was a lie. It was the most painful the next day, when they treated each other as they would any other day. He understood why they didn't talk about it, especially in the professional setting they were in together, but that didn't change the fact that it happened and that he thought about it more often than he should.

And that's why, after three months of his thoughts, as she was heading home, he grabbed her arm before she could exit the door.

"I love you, you know." He didn't make eye contact. He kept his voice matter-of-fact. He wasn't confessing anything, not really. More like stating the obvious. It was the first time he'd ever said it, though.

"I know, sir," she answered, her voice equally as matter-of-fact.

"If things were different…if the country was different…"

"I know, sir."

He let go of her arm, staring ahead. He watched as she walked away. He was going to make things different. For his country, for himself. But mostly for her.