3:23 A.M.

3:23 A.M., three hours before sunrise and three hours after midnight, and not a soul awake. Everything is dead as a grave, quietly sleeping and resting before another waking to face yet another hard day.

Everyone but one.

She stirs fitfully in her side of the bed, tossing and turning, ruffling the sheets and smashing her hair in the process. Finally giving up trying to find a comfortable spot, she lies on her back and widely opens her eyes, having a white blank wall to greet her.

Solitary. Peace. For now.

Turning to her right, she has a full view of the face of a handsome, sleeping man. Jaw loose, teeth unclenched, she dares not wake him from the peaceful fantasy he must be exploring. Dreams do not come easily to him, and whenever within reach he must hold fast to them and use them for comfort and rest.

Yes, there was no need to wake the figure lying beside her. She cranes her neck to meet his face with hers, leaving only a few inches between them, and allows her eyes to wander slowly and explore every inch of his delicate face. Her eyes land on his jaw, the strong, chiseled bone lined with stubble, reminding her of those restless nights when he was on the run after escaping from his cell. She had just returned from yet another insipid party, and looking out the window of her cab she caught sight of the outline of a man jumping the gates of a prison. He landed lightly outside the gates and saw her stare, and although it was dark and difficult to make out, she was almost positive she could see that jaw thrust out arrogantly at her and those eyes naughtily wink. He turned quickly around and ran like mad.

She sighs. No doubt he knew he would be looked for everywhere the next day, probably the reason why he decided to travel far away, so far they wouldn’t even be bothered to search for him.

Her eyes travel upwards to his brown, sandy hair. She lifts her hand, and for a fleeting second her fingers are stretched outwards, suspending in the air, and then she drops her hand, defeating the urge to touch those soft wisps. The memory of his hair blowing in the wind while aboard the Avenger comes to mind. She remembers leaning against the hard wood of the ship on the starboard side, closing her eyes and letting the wind wash over her. Amidst all the chaos and frenzy on deck, she felt as if someone stationed was watching her, and once she turned around she saw him there standing, staring at her with such intensity in his eyes that she found herself drowning in those dark orbs. She captivated him, and he, never letting his eyes off her, was determined to capture her as well, walking slowly to her, taking his time in each of his steps, and the two came closer and closer, communicating with their eyes, while the rest of the crew were too busy swinging about and shouting orders.

He twitches and unintelligibly mutters something, and then suddenly falls silent, sinking into his deep slumber once more. Just barely noticing her intake of breath, she releases and puts one hand to her chest, feeling the pounding of her heart beat furiously, but either from his movements or from her reminiscent thoughts she could not tell.

Trailing down, she finds those well-contoured, high cheekbones, thin and angular set on the sides of his face. She remembers so well the cheekbones protruding like they were now when she saw him on his motorcycle. Shocked, she stared at him without his helmet. Dangerous? Yes, especially for him. But he glinted back as if daring her to even suggest such a thing, and she knew although he put his life at risk, he lived to be risky. He nodded at her in his leather jacket, his body untouched but his face receiving full blast of the cold air. Her breath was visible as she panted at the idea of getting on with him, but one look at his eyes, those strong cheekbones, that smirk, she couldn’t resist but to try his way of living. And she had climbed on.

She smiles at this memory. Ah, back when she was a silly, young girl not knowing how the world worked. She should’ve known.

His long, straight nose catches her attention, and immediately something pops into her head. He had taken her to the back of some sort of building, and confused and tired, she pulled her wrist away from him, glaring at him, demanding him to tell her what was going on. All he did was stare at her while he pulled out from his coat pocket a packet of Marlboro cigarettes and a lighter. Taking out a stick, he delicately placed it in between his lips and lit up, taking a long drag and breathing it out, some through his mouth and some through his long nose. Smoking in front of her, without a word, he slowly advanced towards her. Transfixed, she couldn’t move, couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. And he couldn’t from her.

He turns on his side, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth slightly frowning. She moves closer to his body and studies next his mouth.

Unlike now, his mouth usually showed arrogance and confidence. With those full lips, pink and beautiful to look at, it was no surprise that he had such an aura. She remembers staring at them that fateful night they were supposed to meet after a separation. She had gotten lost of course, what with all the ends and turns and the meandering pathways, and had nearly given up with exasperation when she heard a chuckle from the shadows. Turning around, she saw the glint of his eyes, both amused and impatient. The corners of his mouth curled upwards, twisting itself into the all-too-familiar smirk, the same smirk that sent shivers down her spine. And though she desperately tried to ignore it, the feeling she always had around him swirled pleasantly in her stomach and in her head.

And even now she had the same feeling.

Shaking her head to rid of such thoughts, she turns lastly to his eyes, closed right now to mark his rare few moments of peace. When they were open, his eyes were so brilliant, so captivating, so… alluring. She literally could not take her eyes off them when he locks her into his gaze, and it is at those moments when she was most vulnerable. She remembers a time when she could not take it anymore. The running, the hiding, everything was just too much and she was about near to give in, but he shook her by the shoulders and made her look at him directly in the eye. It was all there; the passion, the determination, and especially the need. He was direct and set, staring at me, knowing exactly what he wanted, and what he wanted he always got…

Suddenly, his eyes bat open, unfocused and confused without his glasses. Finally they find her in the dark and he emits a groan from the back of his throat, similar to what one of his victims had released after he had punched him continuously and left him behind the alley…

“Honey? You’re still up?” He rolls to the side of the bed and cranes his neck to see the alarm clock. He moans and turns back to her. “It’s four A.M.”

“I know. I just couldn’t sleep.”

His hands find her small body under the blankets and pull her towards him in a hug. “What were you doing?”

She smiles knowingly to herself. “Go back to sleep. You’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Great. More computers.” He kisses her goodnight and almost immediately sinks in a deep slumber again. It reminds her of the time…