Author's Note: So, here is the second chapter, this time from Connor's point of view. I am a girl, and I don't write as guys very often, so forgive me if it's a little off. Everlasting gratitude to my solitary reviewer, my best friend, the lovely and wonderful iloverueforever. Please enjoy, and reviews are ever so appreciated!

Disclaimer: Do you really think I own Unwind? If I did, right now I would be in Arizona, having a wild teenage dance party with Connor and Risa. And obviously, you can't write/publish fanfiction from a wild teenage dance party in the future.

Connor's POV

It's about twelve thirty in the afternoon, and the mechanical team's just taken a break from the long day's work. Right now, we're all assembled to work on a particularly complicated broken stovetop that has decided to spew thick black smoke every time we mess with the gears. This wasn't making the cooks' jobs any easier, so they called us in. We haven't made any progress so far, but we've all gotten really sweaty and gross. That, and I'm starving. So, all I want to do is sit down, eat my lunch, and try desperately to cool down, which the scorching Southwestern sun usually makes impossible. But as I begin to tuck into my sandwich, listening to the guys on my team yell and laugh and talk about the girls here at the Graveyard. Right now, they're discussing the infamous Demandment Number Eight, and how they could possibly weasel around it to get the chicks they want. Benjamin, a greasy kid who carries our stuff around turns to me, and asks,

"Hey Connor, any girls here you've got your eye on?"

I shake my head and grunt casually, knowing how normal this kind of banter is with the guys.

"I don't believe it!" That would be Jesse, another guy, who slugs me good-naturedly in the arm. "What about that med jet girl you showed up with, Risa? She's pretty hot, man. Seems cool. I heard you two were an item."

"Nah," I deny, brushing it off. "We're just friends. She only stuck with me on the run because I kept getting us into situations with the cops and stuff, and she was nice enough to keep me out of trouble."

"Sure," he says sarcastically. "You just keep telling yourself that."

The lunchtime chatter resumes as usual, but my mind's not on it. What Jesse said about Risa has given my brain something to run with. Now that I think about it, I remember there was a reason she almost dislocated my shoulder in the forest that one time. I had touched her hair because I thought she was pretty. When she looked so sad about giving up Didi, I had cuddled with her in the ice cream truck not only to keep her warm, but because it was the only way I could think to comfort her. I just hated it when she looked so broken. Now that I think about it, she's a saint to have put up with me this entire time, when my brain kept frying and I only made things that much more difficult for her. Risa's so strong and self-reliant, and God knows she's a whole lot smarter than me. I don't know why she wouldn't have taken off while she could've, but I wouldn't be here if she had. She's saved me so many times over, I would've been in little medical shreds months ago. Even if she doesn't always seem to like me, she's pretty awesome. Plus, Jesse was right. She is hot. I don't really know what comes over me just then, but I get up from my seat and declare,

"I'm gonna go see Risa. Catch you guys later."

There's a chorus of whistles and laughs behind me, as well as a few "Good luck, Lassiter!"s and "Don't have too much fun!"s. Unfazed, I keep determinedly striding on my way, towards the medical jet, not having any clue what exactly I'm doing.

Finally, I see the small, pristine 747 come into view, and I jog towards it. Only when I'm right in front of the doorway do I stop to realize how stupid what I'm doing is. If I just show up here without any explanation, Risa's going to know that something's up. We don't get to see each other very often, but because of the Admiral's strict policies, we don't often seek the other one out. If I show up, probably stuttering and staring, she'll either take me to have my head examined, or she'll catch on and think that I'm a total womanizing jerkwad who doesn't care about our friendship. Two options that I'd rather not go through. So, I take the stupid, cliched, teen rom-com route. Clutching my arm, pretending to grimace in pain, I walk through that door.

The medical jet is fairly empty at this time of day, I guess it's not hot enough outside for any major heatstroke to occur. And from what little Risa's told me about work here, that's about 75% of what they treat. I see her in the back, tending to a skinny, scowling little kid I recognize from my few days on trash duty. Risa's huddled over the guy's ankle, applying some sort of medical tape to it, completely oblivious to me and my failed "injury". A few other people bustle around, but I guess as long as I'm not puking or profusely bleeding, I'm not a priority. She looks comfortable, and experienced. I never would have thought of her as a doctor, but she seems really good at it. Her khaki Graveyard fatigues bag on her skinny frame, but they hug her hips and bustline, not exactly helping with my staring problem. The boy she's treating finally gets the okay, stands up painfully, and hobbles away. Risa finally takes notice of me as she's making sure he doesn't sprain his other ankle.

"Oh, hi Connor," she says. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," I say, distracted by how her sparkling green eyes catch the light streaming through a window. "What about you?"

"Business as usual," she laughs. "Kids here can't seem to go a day without hurting themselves. I'm here to help them recover. You doing anything interesting with the mechanics?"

"No. Unless you count screwy stovetops as interesting."

She smiles at that, and it's a beautiful smile. Risa's so serious, you would't think she'd have it in her. But she does have that sweet of a smile, and I only wish I could make it happen more often.

"So, are you injured?" she asks, looking at my arm with a mixture of confusion and restrained giggles.

"Uh, my arm hurt."

"Your arm hurt."

"Yeah…but it feels better now, so I guess I should just be going. Uh, bye!" With that, I awkwardly shuffle off, hoping I haven't been too obvious. I know my feelings aren't mutual, but I move slowly enough to hear her mutter to herself,

"Boys. Even the sweet, adorable ones are idiots."

Say what?

The end.