“Wyatt,” Ambrose said a few minutes later. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“And why is that?” Wyatt asked, arching a brow. “You said that the medicos didn’t want anyone telling you anything, or Raw to help, well, this is neither telling you nor uncovering your memories. It lets you uncover them for yourself.”

Ambrose sighed in exasperation, letting his arms fall to his sides. “I honestly thought you were joking the other night when you said I might kick your ass…”

Wyatt grinned, loosening his stance. “And why would you think that?”

“Well, maybe because I don’t know how to fight?” Ambrose returned.

Wyatt stood up and cocked his head slightly in thought before shaking it off and loosening his stance once more.

“What?” Ambrose asked.

“Nothing, never mind,” Wyatt said. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Ambrose sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, you are the head of security and given the last two days I would think you’d know that by now.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes in return. “My job has nothing to do with you trusting me, Sweetheart,” he drawled. “You can trust me at my job, and then you can trust me. I’m asking if you trust me.”

“Should I not?” Ambrose asked arching a brow.

Wyatt groaned in frustration and stood up again.

Ambrose chuckled. “Alright fine,” he said exhaling dramatically and rolling his eyes. “Yes, Wyatt, I trust you.”

“Okay, good,” Wyatt said, dropping back into his loose stance once more. “We’ll go slow, alright? I just want you to block, okay?”

Ambrose nodded and exhaled a steadying breath, relaxing his own stance.

Wyatt came at him with a series of slow, controlled, fluid kicks and punches, all of which Ambrose blocked.

“You know how stupid I feel, don’t you?” Ambrose asked.

Wyatt chuckled. “There’s nothing to feel stupid about, you’re learning,” he replied.

“And if I don’t know how to fight, how exactly is this supposed to be helping me?” Ambrose asked, blocking another volley of blows.

“Well, you seem to be doing pretty well for not knowing how to fight,” Wyatt said with a grin. “Care to kick it up a notch?”

Ambrose nodded and Wyatt increased his speed slightly.

“I still don’t understand this,” Ambrose said as he moved around the mat, dodging a blow rather than blocking it this time.

“It’s called muscle memory,” Wyatt replied. “Or something like that...” He shrugged slightly as he continued his fluid assault, increasing his speed without warning this time. “It was DG’s idea.”

Ambrose exhaled heavily and ducked under Wyatt’s arm, circling back around him. “I should have known she’d come up with something like that.”

Wyatt chuckled. “You know,” he said thoughtfully as he released another volley of attacks. “Someone told me once that it was all about rhythm… sort of like a dance.”

“Oh?” Ambrose asked. “Well, I suppose it can be. There is a certain kind of grace to it I guess.”

Wyatt grinned and hunched, sweeping his foot out toward Ambrose.

Ambrose jumped; evading having his feet swept out from under him, and reversed the move.

Wyatt toppled, landing hard on his back with a thud and groaned, closing his eyes.

Ambrose blinked, stunned by what he’d done.

“S-see…” Wyatt groaned, panting. “T-told you... you could… kick my ass…”

Ambrose blinked again before starting in surprise at finding Wyatt on the mat. “Wyatt, are you alright?” he asked, moving over him and kneeling down over his lap. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Wyatt chuckled breathlessly and nodded as he tried to catch his breath. “Yeah, I’ll live,” he replied with a smile. He shook his head and waved Ambrose’s attempts to check for injuries. “I’m not hurt, Ambrose, honest.” Looking up, he met concerned brown eyes, exhaling a breath, he continued, “Just my pride, and it’ll heal… besides, I asked for it.”

Ambrose looked at him uncertainly but nodded slowly before his expression turned curious.

“What?” Wyatt asked, finally gaining some control of his breathing.

“You said someone told you it was like a dance,” Ambrose answered.

“Yeah, they did,” Wyatt replied.

“Who?” Ambrose asked.

Wyatt exhaled heavily and looked away for a moment in thought. Retuning his gaze to Ambrose, who was still watching him curiously he replied, “You did, Sweetheart.”

Ambrose blinked. “Me?”

Wyatt nodded. “Yeah, sure did,” he answered. “You said it was all about rhythm and rhythm came from the soul.”

Ambrose laughed, ducking his head as he flushed with embarrassment. “That sounds rather corny, doesn’t it?”

Wyatt chuckled, nodding slightly. “Yeah, it does,” he admitted. “Did then, too… till I saw you fight.” He waited, but Ambrose didn’t look at him. “And to be honest,” he continued after a moment. “I worried about you before that.”

Ambrose blinked and peered up at him. “Y-you worried about me?” he asked timidly.

“Yeah,” Wyatt replied and leaned up, brushing his lips over Ambrose’s forehead. “Sure did, Sweetheart.”

Ambrose was quiet, not meeting his eyes and Wyatt cocked his head curiously, propping himself up on his arms.

Ambrose swallowed and looked up at him nervously. “U-um, Wyatt?”

“Yeah?” Wyatt asked.

“W-were we…?” Ambrose began and then trailed off. “I – I mean, d-did we…?”

Wyatt blinked wondering what had him so nervous, but waited patiently.

Ambrose exhaled heavily and flushed, lowering his gaze again and shaking his head as he buried his face in his hands.

“Ambrose?” Wyatt asked gently. “What is it? Were we what? Were we more than friends?”

Ambrose’s blush deepened and he swallowed dryly over the lump in his throat before lifting a wary gaze to Wyatt and nodding.

“No,” Wyatt answered. “We weren’t more than friends.”

“Oh,” Ambrose murmured and lowered his gaze.

Wyatt looked at him in confusion a moment. “Ambrose?”

Ambrose exhaled heavily and shook his head.

“Ambrose, what is it?” Wyatt tried again. “What’s wrong?”

Ambrose sniffed softly looking up and Wyatt’s heart wrenched when he saw tears forming in his brown eyes. “I – I’m just so confused,” he said at last, his brow wrinkling in confusion and his voice tight in his throat.

Wyatt blinked, looking at him in concern. “About what?” he asked.

“T-the way you act… and – and… Sweetheart!” Ambrose cried, sniffing again as he reached up to wipe his eyes.

Wyatt sighed, sitting up and pulling him into his arms, wondering if he could say anything that could help. “It’s not that we couldn’t have been more than friends… its just…”

Ambrose blinked, looking at him again, his fingers stretching the skin around his eyes as he rubbed at them when Wyatt trailed off. “Just what?”

Wyatt sighed, lowering his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “Well, to start off with, I… I thought you were a criminal…” he replied looking up at Ambrose apologetically. “It wasn’t until later, when we came here in fact,” he paused looking around before returning his gaze to Ambrose before continuing, “that I learned you weren’t.”

Ambrose shifted, moving so that the tops of his feet were flat on the floor on either side of Wyatt and swallowed lowering his gaze thoughtfully for a moment, staring instead at Wyatt’s chest. He couldn’t pretend Wyatt’s words didn’t hurt, but he also understood them so it only left a dull ache in his chest rather than a gaping wound.

“Ambrose?” Wyatt asked after a few moments as the silence stretched on, cocking his head.

Ambrose swallowed thickly and smiled faintly as he looked up at Wyatt once more. “I – I guess that’s why you wanted t-to start over…” he murmured and licked his lips. “To get to know each other again, isn’t it?”

Wyatt exhaled heavily. “Yeah,” he said after a brief pause. “Yeah, that was part of it.”

Ambrose swallowed and nodded slightly. “A-and the other part?” he asked.

“Well, we didn’t really know each other very long,” Wyatt replied. “And the time we did know each other we were running for our lives or being hunted, not to mention the misconceptions.”

Ambrose nodded, swallowing once more. “W-well,” he said quietly. “I – I guess I can’t really blame you for your misconceptions of me… t-the fact that I was head cased… up until the witch came to power, it was only performed on criminals.”

Wyatt smiled at him wanly and reached up, cupping his jaw, stroking his cheek gently with his thumb. “I’m still sorry, Ambrose,” he replied. “And I don’t mean to confuse you. I told you we could try.”

Ambrose flushed and lowered his gaze slightly. “W-when did y-you first start?” he asked.

Wyatt blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Ambrose glanced up with a faint smile. “Calling me Sweetheart,” he clarified. “When did you first start? I-it can’t have been that day in my lab…with the cherries.”

“Oh and why is that?” Wyatt asked arching a brow, curious to know Ambrose’s reasoning.

“Well, you were too comfortable with saying it…” Ambrose answered. “Like it wasn’t really a slip of the tongue or the first time you’d said it either, so I was just wondering, when… and if we weren’t more than friends, well, why?”

Wyatt opened his mouth to reply and then sighed. “It wasn’t the first time, no,” he said quietly after a moment. “The first time was in the tower…” he said and then paused again, wondering if he could explain without going against the medicos wishes before deciding that Ambrose had the right to know anyway. “It was our job to turn off the sun seeder to stop the witch… DG was on her own, and she was going to try and save Azkadellia.” He paused again and licked his lips. “Just as we were almost finished, the alchemist, uh… the one from the memory we saw… Raynz came in with two other Long Coats and they used a shock stick on you after shooting me.”

“They shot you?” Ambrose asked in surprise.

“Yeah, in the shoulder,” Wyatt explained, trying to alleviate his fears. “They restrained you and I took one of them out with my razor and you started fighting… You would have taken them all out if Raynz didn’t use the shock stick on you. With the metal from the zipper…”

“It was amplified,” Ambrose finished.

Wyatt nodded. “Yeah,” he replied. “When you came to, you didn’t know who I was and it just slipped out… then you recognized me…after that, well, it just sort of stuck.”