It wasn't until the warm glows of late afternoon sun began to fall in place across the landscape that I awoke. With a start I shot up from my position on the ground to find Oliver sitting up casually next to me, whittling some piece of wood he had found with his knife.

"Oliver! Why is it so late? You should have woken me sooner; it's past noon already."

"It's much past noon, actually," he said with a smirk. "Anyways, you looked peaceful, and there was no one around, so I figured what was the harm in letting her ladyship get her beauty rest?"

"The harm is that I don't have much daylight left to get my surgery done," I answered back none too pleasantly.

"You won't have much brain left to get your surgery done either, if you keep insisting on pushing onward so hard," came his reply.

I sighed. I couldn't come up with a witty retort to that, partially due to the fact that my mind was indeed a little foggy from exhaustion and sleep. It would fade though, I knew, as soon as I could eat something and have time to wake a little. "So what did you steal for breakfast this time? Please tell me it's not more beans." I could still taste the remnants of the canned flavor if I thought too much on it.

In response I was handed two cobs of corn. "...That's it?"

"Excuse me? You don't know how much I risked to get that even much!" It was then that I saw a noticeable slice on his arm, wrapped in bandages, but not thick enough to prevent a sour red from smiling through with their warnings. I guessed that he was afraid to use more, with the last remaining roll having to make due with two users now.

"What happened out there?" I cried. "This seems more than just simply taking and running."

"Well, that's true. I did do something else there..." He seemed hesitant as he raised hand to tug slightly at his auburn locks.

"What was it? Did the assassin or Mits hurt you?"

"No. It was just a farm. I went over to just take a few small things for breakfast, but when I went to grab a few cobs of corn, I saw a slave working. I just couldn't stop thinking about what the Gadgeteer had said about the British and enslaving India, and in turn, Africa."

"Oliver," I whispered, reaching out my hand to hold onto his own shaking pale one. "That isn't your fault. It's just where you were born. You're not responsible for anything."

"I just couldn't stand her working out there, back bent over and aching and covered in scars. The war ended this April, this should be over by now. They are equal to us, so why should she have to work for some horrible master, when she's pregnant, and should be resting? Just because her skin is dark and she's an AluminumHeart. It's sickening. So I asked her what her key looked like, and tried to make my way into his house to give it back to her."

My eyes grew wide. "What? That's so incredibly dangerous." I stopped for a moment as something occurred to me. "Is this why you didn't wake me sooner? How long were you gone?"

He grimaced, looking away for a moment. "It didn't take me long to find it, but it was attached to the master's belt. He was taking an afternoon nap, and swiping it off him wasn't hard, but when I went to leave, one of his maids began to holler, and woke him. I was able to give the girl her key and run, and I got away, but not before they gave me this." He nodded towards the large cut. "I'll be all right though."

I was stunned. "That was incredibly brave of you. Foolish, but brave. I just hope that that girl will be able to escape to the North and get help. If anyone finds out about her past, they'll try to drag her back."

"I know. I just couldn't just take food and run as if I hadn't seen her pain. Too many people do that. That's why the Heart-Status exists at all."

"You know, you are a gentleman when you try to be," I mused, trying to get even a smile out of him. He looked so forlorn, and I hoped that the cut was the only thing that had happened to him. It hurt to see him this way.

"Thank you, but if you truly appreciate my efforts you'll eat the corn I almost died for." He laughed, but I made sure to eat all of it gratefully. It was stale, bland, and a bit dry, but somehow, it tasted fine, when I thought of the story that came along with it.

"You don't think the Mits are coming after us as we speak now, do you?" I asked. I would need time for the surgery, and if I had to start running partway, I could very easily die.

"Are they ever not chasing us?" Oliver asked. "I got away from the farmhands, and the master was too overweight to keep up with me. I did see a Bellgraham in his house though, so I think he'll call the Mits once they get there. They have to lead an investigation first though, so we should have time."

"All right then." I tossed away the empty corn husk, finished. My mind felt more clear now, and while hunger still lurked in my stomach, it wouldn't prevent me from working. With a quick glance that no one could see me from either side of the darkening alley, I began to pull off my shirt to reveal the bandages underneath.

"Um, Evangeline, why...?" Oliver's face began to flush, which did not help me to feel more comfortable about my actions. I tried not to imagine what my father would say, if he could see me now.

"How can you expect me to do a heart surgery with a shirt on?" My voice sounded panicked and rushed, and I felt my face getting hotter by the second, but I needed to get this piece attached to the others, and if anything happened to me, it was better to have Oliver there to help. I didn't have any other option, uncouth as it was. At least I could keep the many bandages supporting my chest in place, and for once in my life, I felt glad that I was not as well-endowed as other women.

"I... I can't expect that. It's just that... I'm not sure what-" He was turned away now, his hands over his eyes like a child playing hide and seek.

"You don't have to watch! All you have to do is simply hand me what I ask for, if I need it. So please, hand me the knife out of my bag, and the piece."

Oliver managed to peep through just enough to look through my satchel, and was dutifully covered once again by the time he had placed them next to me.

I had already taken hold of the chloroform, taking a bandage strip and using it to cap the bottle, before upending it and righting it again quickly, so as to only get a small amount on the material.

"Doesn't that cause you to fall asleep? They would use it in the war to remove bullets." I looked up to see Oliver looking worriedly at the bottle.

"I thought you were covering!"

"I was! But what if you hurt yourself, and I couldn't see you bleeding out and help you? I swear that after this, I will never look again, and I won't be a gapeseed now either. I only want to help if you are hurt. Otherwise, I won't do anything, so long as you are fine with that."

I paused for a moment, only able to pay attention to one thing that he had said. "A gapeseed?"

"Someone who gapes. At women. It's a English term."

"That explains why I've never heard it. That aside, as long as you swear not to "be a gapeseed" then that is the safest option. Back to the chloroform, yes, they did use this to put patients to sleep, and that is it's most common use, but in very small amounts, it can be used to dull pain." I had been breathing it in for about a half a minute, and my fingers had just begun to tingle like they had right before I had fallen asleep many times before. With that, I pulled it away, and took hold of my knife, glancing at the scar line on my chest, and began to work the point under the sutures that held it together. With them gone, I was able to carve away the scar and gain access to finally see the shining glint of my metallic heart. A sharp line of pain had begun to spread like the drippings of blood, spreading outward from the wound like roots from a tree, but with a grit of my jaw and the aid of the chemical, I was able to bear it.

"Should it be bleeding like that?" I could hear the unease in his already high voice.

"I have no way to stop it," I muttered through my clenched teeth, as I reached in to grab the left atrium, and came to a harsh realization. I had no needle, and no thread to stitch myself up once done. At the same point, I was too far along to quit my surgery, so I pushed the thought aside, choosing to address it once I reached that point. Instead, I turned the knife to the side, where a flathead screw lay, and began to twist the knifepoint in it until it was loose enough to remove the atrium, but not enough to fall lost somewhere in my body. I reached into the cavity, glad to have had my father carve off my ribs at a young age for such easy access, when I took hold off the piece and tugged. It wouldn't budge.

Again, I pulled, much harder this time, but it refused to move. The screw had been fully removed, as I held it in my other, now red, hand, but, still it remained in place, being stuck elsewhere that I couldn't see from my angle.

"That's not good..." I muttered, almost to myself.

"What is it? Do you need me to hold something?" Oliver jumped up at the offer.

"I don't think there is anything you can do. My atrium is stuck, and the heat refractor that I took from Mrs. Bolleman needs to be attached to the inside of it. If I can't get it out, then this entire surgery was for nothing."

"...Would a magnet help?"

I glanced towards him. I had to have heard him wrong. "Sorry, what did you say?"

I didn't like the way he looked up and down the alley before he answered in a low whisper. "I know you're a Goldheart, but still, would a magnet help?"

"Oliver!" Now it was my turn to whisper fiercely. "Why do you have one of those? And however did you get one?"

Magnets were more than illegal, they were practically taboo. While they wouldn't affect a Goldheart like myself, they could instantly kill over half the population, Ironhearts more so than any other. If he had had one on him the entire time, he couldn't be one, as he would have already pulled his own from his chest, which meant his metal must be lower than that. They were weapons of murder, to be held only by the government in the very off chance that the whole world should end up in a war against itself.

"I just have one. Would it help?" He seemed impatient as the blood continued to trickle down my bare stomach.

"Yes, it would, actually. Since Gold is so weak, there is a small steel piece in the atrium specifically to secure any hole that would have to hold up to constant pressure and blood flow. It would pull it out. But still..."

"Then here." Oliver began to dig in his shoe, pulling out two shiny stones, stuck to each other like lovers, and a pair of very bent earrings. He handed the stones to me.

"You've been stepping on those this entire time?" I asked incredulously. "It seems very uncomfortable.

"It is, but it's the last place the Mits will check. The rest is kept in my own bag or pockets."

The magnets felt cool to the touch, and I felt instantly drawn to them, though whether it was my curiosity of holding a thing of legend, or because it did have a small effect on my heart, I would never know. A sense of thrill had begun to creep into my veins as I held it up to my chest. Only seconds later, I felt a squelch in my chest, and heard a small click as the piece hit the magnet. They were incredibly strong, just like the rumours had said. Another one came to my mind too, one I had heard long ago, of a killer that roamed the streets, using magnets to end elitists and Mits. I looked up at Oliver as he stared at my face, concern making his eyes glisten. It's not him. That would be ridiculous. I pushed the thought away in my mind, annoyed it had even crossed my thoughts.

Once the piece was out, it didn't take long to click the heat refractor into place, and I knew, once in my body, that it would help to add a warmth to my emotions and heat to my touch. It was a comforting thing to know, and as I screwed the atrium back into place, and attached the tricuspid valve to the lower section in connection to my veins, I wondered where to go from here. There were only five pieces I still needed, it was August, and my birthday was in late December. It was more than a piece per month. I only hoped we could keep up the pace.

"Eva? Sorry to interrupt your thoughts, but are you going to fix the hole?" Oliver's voice pulled me back to the current situation. I looked down.

"I'm not sure that I can," I told him truthfully. "I've neither a needle or thread to stitch it back up. It was the one thing that didn't occur to me before I started."

"Well thread is thread, right? Our shirts have thread." He held up the one I had put on the ground next to me.

"It's supposed to be a specific type, but I supposed that could work. I still don't have a needle though, and I don't want to use the knife." The clouds had begun to slightly slow my thoughts once again, and it was safe to assume that the pain would be flaring up soon.

"So it has to be able to pierce, but be precise..." It was interesting, watching Oliver be the one musing for once as he looked around him, his chin in his hand, looking around. The alley was empty and unhelpful though, and I was starting to become tired and unfocused.

"What about an earring? They pierce ears, if you try hard enough."

I mulled the idea over for a moment. "That could actually work. Look at you, figuring out all my problems for me." I laughed, feeling almost awkward to lay there, completely open and bleeding while Oliver tried to think of how to patch me up.

"I learned from the best." He pulled out the same pair of earrings I had seen before, and without hesitation he slipped off a small snowflake charm, and began to straighten out the metal strand.

"Is that okay? Those must be important to you," I said, but Oliver placed them gently in my palm, along with a string he had tugged off his shirt.

"It's fine. I offered. They were my sister's, but she would be happy to know I used it to keep someone safe. Besides, I still have the other."

Not about to argue, I took the string and dipped it in the chloroform, hoping to slightly disinfect it, and perhaps numb the area once more. The earring loop that had once held the charm held the thread nicely, and while the metal shaft was a bit wobbled from being bent straight by only Oliver's hand, as I pushed it lightly through the easily torn scarred tissue, it did its job. With a simple crossed design, I pulled the skin tightly back together, until it was closed, and wiping some of the blood off, I put my shirt back on. I would need to bathe at some point, but not now. I was too exhausted.

With the sun setting, I took out my key, winding some energy back into my body, sure that that would help me to heal faster. I looked over at Oliver, refusing to watch me twist my neck in my neck. I knew it had been days at least since I had met him, and he had refused everytime. It only took a week for someone to run out of time, less for those who were underfed and overworked. He couldn't possibly have much time left.

"Oliver, please wind yourself," I begged. I couldn't bear for him to do this to himself, just out of shame of showing me what he was.

"I did this-"

"No you did not. Don't lie to me Oliver!" I saw his shoulders flinch in response. It seemed he hadn't expected that.

"Oliver, I understand that you are not a very trusting person, and perhaps that's understandable, given your background, but this behavior of refusing to wind yourself... well it's downright childish! I don't care if you're a Nickelheart or a Tinheart. Even if you were ashamed of being an Aluminumheart, you've done so much for me already, and I can't help but respect you for that. You are always there for another person, and incredibly caring. Nothing, absolutely nothing will change the way that I view you, so please... stop being so hung up on this silly Heart-Status Theory, and take care of yourself. Please."

"You really mean that? That I could be anything, and your view of me as a person wouldn't change?" It came out as a mumble across the space of the alley.

"I do. You have my word," I promised.

Something about him seemed different in the silvery moonlight starting to drift in from the alley's opening, his shirt laid casually on his lanky frame as he sat up, to make eye contact with me. His voice was serious and searching, but I nodded in response. "All right then."

I expected him to take out his key first, but instead, his long fingers went straight to working on the bandages, unwrapping them layer by layer. I couldn't help staring, curious as I was. He had acted so open, and yet so mysteriously the entire time I had known him. It felt satisfying that I was about to finally know what metal his heart was constructed from.

Until he took off the last bandage to reveal a neck with no keyhole at all.

"W-what?" I cried out. His neck was nothing but smooth skin, if a little pale from being wrapped up for so long. There was not a single trace of metal for a preforation. I backed up slightly, hitting the wall behind me. "But how?"

If Oliver couldn't wind himself up, how was he still moving? Breathing? "No... That can't be right," I muttered, more to myself than anything. "Everyone needs to be wound. Every night." I stood up from my spot, moving closer to inspect the area, running my finger over the area again and again. It wasn't until he twitched that I realized that he might be uncomfortable, and that I had been inspecting him as though he were one of the machines I used to be admonished by my father for constructing.

"The 'how'," Oliver started off loudly, most likely due to embarrassment, "is very simple. I don't need to wind myself up to survive. My heart simply pumps."

"What do you mean, pumps? It moves? Like a pressure gauge?"

"Like one, but it isn't one. It moves, all on its own accord, based on whatever emotion I'm feeling. Here. Feel it." And with that his hand was holding mine, placing it lightly utop his chest.

And I felt it. A heavy thudding from deep within his skin, keeping time with a quick pace. It was so alive, and I pressed my hand harder to feel the sensation more.

"You said it moves differently based on what emotion you are feeling?" He nodded. "So then, what emotion is this?"

I suddenly felt his hand on the back of my neck, pulling my head closer to face, his mouth only centimeters away from mine. His chest jumped more and more each passing second, making me wonder if he was malfunctioning. His normally fair face was flushed a strawberry red. "It's Love."