Cold Case 1. She's Got You

**I Will Be Here**

**A/N: **To say I was not a fan of Eddie Saccardo would be putting it mildly, so I was really surprised when, as I kicked around story ideas, I kept coming back to that whole dynamic when Lilly was seeing Saccardo and Scotty was inexplicably snarky. There was so, so, so much unexplored potential there, but the show never explored it, so I decided I would. I originally conceived of this story as a one-shot several years ago, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it warranted a much longer fic.

This story takes place right around the beginning of season 6. Lilly and Saccardo have been seeing each other for a few weeks, and Scotty is acting like a twelve-year-old about the whole thing. Loyal viewers of _Cold Case _will undoubtedly recognize a few scenes from the early episodes of season 6, although they are presented in a slightly different context here. The case the detectives are working is my own, and those of you who like _Castle _may well recognize my inspiration for at least one of the original characters.

The title of this story is also the title of a song by Christian artist Steven Curtis Chapman. It's a beautiful song, and one that's very near and dear to my heart, as it was performed at my wedding. My husband and I started out as friends just over eleven years ago (I was seeing someone else at the time), but the more time he and I spent together, the more I began to fall in love with him. While this story is not Our Story, certain aspects of it have undoubtedly found their way into the fic. As such, this one is dedicated to him. Thank you, sweetie, for loving me, supporting me, putting up with me, listening to me ramble incoherently about plot ideas, making me laugh, being a wonderful husband and father, and, above all, for being my very best friend, and for being there.

I'm really excited to share this story with you, lovely readers. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

**She's Got You**

Four beer mugs met above the center of the table with a series of quick, celebratory clinks, the varying levels of golden liquid within sloshing in unison. Drawing his mug in from the group toast to his lips, Scotty Valens drank deep of the cool, malty beverage, then set his mug down on the polished wooden table with a thunk that echoed the three others from his co-workers.

"Another box back on the shelf, another murder solved," Nick Vera said from directly opposite him. "This squad is tops, man. Tops."

The detectives all responded in kind, and Scotty glanced around the table at the three familiar faces, faces with which he'd spent the better part of the last several days, and a couple of nights, solving the 1974 murder of a used-car salesman. Now they celebrated together at Jones', as they often did after closing a case, reveling in the quiet satisfaction that came from giving closure to a family who'd been waiting far too long.

"We make a good team," Scotty's comment was directed at the group in general, but his eyes slid involuntarily to the left, toward Lilly. Her lips twitched in a reflexive half-smile, but she said nothing.

"Amen to that." Vera reached for the last of the potato skins on the platter in the center of the table.

To Scotty's right, Kat Miller sat up straighter in her chair. "Now just what do you think you're doin'?"

Scotty grinned and shook his head. He'd decided long ago that Kat and Nick fighting over snacks was life's third unequivocal certainty, just behind death and taxes.

"Eatin' the last potato skin," Vera replied slowly, as though explaining the concept to a third-grader.

Kat arched a brow. "I don't think so."

"Been sittin' there for five minutes," Vera stated calmly. "Don't see your name on it."

"The order came with twelve." Kat shifted in her seat. "Rush had two and didn't want the third one, so she gave it to Scotty; he ate that one plus three more. You've had three, and I've only had two. That last one's mine."

Vera eyed the disputed potato skin. "I put 'em on my tab. Goes without sayin' I get an extra."

"Au contraire, jackass," Kat retorted. "You think you're entitled to an extra, you take it up with Valens."

Scotty busied himself with his beer.

"I'm not takin' it up with Valens." Vera's voice rose slightly. "What he and Lil decided to do with their half is irrelevant."

Chuckling quietly over the rim of his beer mug, Scotty stole a _can-you-believe-these-two _glance toward his partner, only to find her ignoring the food fight entirely in favor of staring toward the bar and tucking a stray wisp of blonde hair behind her ear.

Scotty followed her eyes, and just like that, his pleasant mood vanished.

Hers didn't. Deep dimples framed a dazzling smile, one she tried to hide, with only marginal success.

Back at the table, Kat was rolling her eyes and waving a dismissive hand toward the lone potato skin. "You think stealin' food from a broke single mom's gonna make you feel better about yourself, then have at it."

Vera was nonplussed. "It's a _bar snack_, Miller. Not like I'm stealin' Veronica's Lucky Charms."

"It's Frosted Flakes she likes," Kat retorted. "And you _would_ steal 'em, if I let you anywhere near 'em."

From the bar, Eddie Saccardo acknowledged their table with a jerk of his chin, then tilted his head to the side in silent invitation to Lilly. True to form, he wouldn't be joining the group; he'd be removing Lilly from it.

"Guess that's your cue." Scotty's gut started to churn with the familiar combination of irritation and disdain; he took another large swig of beer to try and quell it.

Lilly's chair scraped against the floor as she stood up, drained the last of her beer, and set the empty mug down on the table with a quiet thump. "Catch you guys tomorrow?"

Vera nodded, then turned and tossed a casual wave over his shoulder toward Saccardo.

"Have fu-un," Kat called in a teasing, sing-songy voice, then took advantage of Vera's momentary distraction to dart her fingers in, grab the last potato skin, and pop it into her mouth with ninja-like stealth. When Nick returned his attention to the table and discovered that his prized potato skin was already gone, he responded to Kat's triumphant, stuffed-cheeks grin with a withering glare.

"Anyone up for some eight-ball?" Kat asked, after she'd washed down the pilfered snack with the remainder of her beer.

"I'm next on Will's dance card, soon as Boss gets done kickin' his ass." Vera jerked a thumb toward the pool tables, where Will Jeffries and John Stillman were deeply engrossed in their game, then tossed his wadded up napkin onto the table and frowned over at Kat. "Hey, I thought you said V had a math test tomorrow."

"She does."

"So…" Vera tilted his head toward Kat expectantly.

"So?"

"Shouldn't you be helpin' her study?"

Kat heaved a weary sigh as she stood up. "Last time I did that, we almost came to blows. So…Mom's helpin' her tonight."

Scotty grinned. "And you need an excuse to not go home."

One corner of Kat's mouth quirked in a sheepish smile.

"All right, Miller." Scotty drained his mug to the dregs and hoisted himself out of his seat, pleased to have something to pay attention to besides whatever nauseating public displays of affection were undoubtedly occurring at the bar. "Prepare to get your ass kicked."

Kat shrugged and grabbed a pair of cues off the rack on the wall. "Anything's better fifth-grade math."

* * *

><p>Lilly trailed a hand over Saccardo's broad, flannel-covered shoulders and feathered a kiss to his swarthy cheek, then slid onto the barstool next to him. "Hey, Serpico."<p>

"Careful there, Cagney." Saccardo's dark eyes took on a teasing gleam. "Some circles, kissin' a co-worker in public might be considered an inappropriation."

Lilly laughed. "That's still not a word."

"It still should be." Saccardo reached for a napkin-wrapped roll of silverware.

Smiling, Lilly picked up the drink menu and gave it a cursory glance. "You order anything yet?"

In response to her question, the slim brunette bartender slid a pair of apple-adorned martini glasses in front of them.

Lilly tossed a teasing grin toward Saccardo. "Appletinis. Shoulda guessed."

With a self-satisfied smirk, Saccardo plucked the apple wedge from the edge of his glass, dunked it into the pale green drink, then popped it into his mouth. "Hey. Don't knock good, remember?"

She lifted her glass in a silent toast. "Don't knock good."

Sipping her drink, she studied the man next to her, the man who'd been infatuating, infuriating, fascinating, and confounding her for the last several weeks. Ever since he'd bashed his way into her life during the Doyle job, with his backwards ballcap and his barbecue, she'd felt like she was on a thrill ride, the combination of danger and exhilaration leaving her breathless and reeling and desperate for more. He was completely unlike anyone she'd ever gone for in the past…

…but don't knock good. And this? This was definitely good.

Lilly's brow creased as Saccardo grabbed a matchbook, then started to wedge the tines of his fork into the end of it. "What are you doing?"

"You'll see." Dark eyes never left his task. "Hey, got some…interesting news."

"Oh?" She lifted her glass to her lips.

"The Garces bust is finally goin' down."

His announcement left Lilly stunned and blinking. She knew in theory that he'd eventually be summoned back undercover, but _eventually _becoming _actually_ brought with it more pain than she'd planned.

"Wow." Her appetite for overly sweet apple-flavored alcohol suddenly fading to mist, she set the glass down. "Just when I was gettin' used to you bein' in my back pocket all the time."

A corner of his mouth gave a sad quirk as he reached for a second roll of silverware. "Nature of the beast, Rush."

She knew. As one of the top detectives in Narcotics, Saccardo was the go-to for their most important undercover missions. And the Garces bust was huge. They'd been working on it for months. But it would require him going in deep; so deep she most likely wouldn't have any contact with him for several weeks. She'd known that, too. He'd warned her.

But knowing wasn't going to make saying goodbye to him, to _this, e_ven temporarily, any easier.

"When?" she asked.

"Sooner than I'd like." He grinned at her. "But don't you worry. I'll still be here to whisk you away to the Blue Ball on Saturday."

Lilly chuckled despite herself at the coarse nickname for the department's annual black-tie fundraiser. "And here I was thinkin' I'd get off the hook."

"Nope, not a chance." His smile widened as he grabbed a second fork and wedged it into the other side of the matchbook. "You still gotta curl your hair, wear that gorgeous dress…"

"What makes you think I got a gorgeous dress?"

"Fine. Wear a gunny sack. You're still gonna be the hottest woman there." Carefully, Saccardo balanced the matchbook, now with the two forks stuck into it, on the rim of the pint glass, then slowly withdrew his hands and looked up at her with a proud, hopeful smirk. "Ta-da."

"The King of Bar Tricks strikes again." Smiling at the unabashed satisfaction in his suddenly-boyish brown eyes, she picked up her appletini. "So you got somethin' that'll go with a gunny sack?"

"I dunno." He turned half in his seat. "I clean up pretty damn good."

She arched a brow, taking in his faded shirt and ripped jeans. "What, you got a pair without holes?"

He shrugged and sipped his drink. "Maybe. Guess you'll have to wait until Saturday to find out."

Lilly grinned at the now-familiar zing of anticipation. He had something up his sleeve, she was sure. And she'd better be ready.

But with Saccardo, she wasn't sure it was possible to be _ready. _The best she could do was buckle up, hold on...and have the time of her life.

* * *

><p>Lil never used to drink appletinis.<p>

Until Saccardo came along, Scotty had never seen her drink anything but beer, and she usually just ordered one and nursed it throughout the course of the evening. But here she was, drinking the girliest of girly drinks, flirting and smiling and acting like a lovestruck teenager.

Rubbing the chalk onto the tip of his pool cue, he watched the scene unfolding at the bar with the same bizarre, visceral fascination of the looky-loos they always had to chase away from crime scenes. He didn't want to stare. Not really. But he couldn't look away.

Oh, now Saccardo was doing some asinine, frat-boy bar trick, no doubt to impress Lilly. And sure enough, there she was, being impressed. Scotty had never thought Lilly Rush would be impressed by something as inane as a bar trick, but maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

There was no doubt about it. Lilly's relationship with Eddie Saccardo annoyed Scotty, and the fact that it annoyed him annoyed him even more. Saccardo seemed like a decent enough guy. A little cocky, perhaps. Borderline obnoxious, with no regard for rules, boundaries, or personal space…but there was no denying he'd brought the smile back to Lil's face, a smile that had been missing since the day she was shot. Scotty supposed he should be grateful for that, no matter the source. Shouldn't he?

"Hey." Kat's voice was sharp enough to startle him and jerk his attention to where his colleague was standing, leaning on her pool cue, eyeing him with irritated suspicion.

"Yeah?"

"Your shot."

"Sorry." Leaning over, he quickly lined up his shot, slid the cue through his circled index finger a couple times, then sent the smooth white cue ball into the fourteen with a satisfying smack. The green-striped ball rolled close to the corner pocket, then thumped off the velvet-covered side of the table, wobbling to a lazy stop in the center.

Kat's frown deepened. "You tryin' to lose on purpose?"

It was a fair question. Kat Miller's skill set was vast and varied, but playing pool was in no way a part of it. And yet, a quick scan revealed that she had only to sink the eight-ball, whereas his three remaining stripes still lay scattered across the deep emerald surface of the table.

"Nah." He rubbed more chalk onto the tip of the cue stick, hoping by his actions to convince her it was merely an equipment failure. "Just tired."

Kat glanced over her shoulder at the bar, where Lilly was whispering something into Saccardo's ear, and turned back with a skeptical grin. "Uh-huh."

Irritation flaring, Scotty set his mouth in a grim line and focused his entire being on the game in front of him, sinking the three remaining balls in quick succession, then draining the eight-ball into the side pocket, enjoying the defiant rattling sound it made as it sealed his victory.

"Lucky shot," Kat griped, though the gleam in her eyes revealed how grudgingly impressed she truly was. He turned around to reach for the rack, and, inescapably in his line of vision, Saccardo was toying with the softly-curled ends of Lilly's ponytail, an arrogant smirk on his face.

"Wanna go again?" Kat was asking.

"Nah." Scotty hung up his cue. "I'm outie."

"Outie? What are you, sixteen?"

The amusement from her comment was a soothing balm to the churning in his gut, and Scotty managed a genuine smile. "Whatever, Granny. I must depart."

Kat sighed and hung her stick next to his. "Guess it is time to face the music." She started to head toward the exit with him, but took a detour when they reached the table where Nicky and Will were halfway through their own game.

Under normal circumstances, Scotty might've stuck around. Kat and Nick talking smack was usually high quality entertainment. The neon-ringed clock on the wall cajoled him; it wasn't that late, and there wouldn't much awaiting him at home besides SportsCenter and an empty fridge.

Scotty sighed as he pushed open the door of Jones' to a faceful of autumn's damp chill. Maybe he wouldn't go home.

But he sure as hell wasn't going to stay here.


	2. Let Me In

**A/N: **Thank you all for such a positive response! I really do have the best readers in the world. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far.

Chapter titles will be taken from both modern songs and songs from 1962, the year of the case. This chapter's title is one of the latter, from a song by a group called The Sensations; not only do the lyrics fit, but it turns out the group was from Philadelphia. Funny how these things work out.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters. But they're too good to just leave on a shelf to gather dust.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

**Let Me In**

_Open up (let me in), I wanna come in again  
>I thought you were my friend<em>

The smooth plastic of the Up button on the lobby elevator at Headquarters lit beneath Scotty's fingertip the next morning. While waiting for the aging lift to lurch its way down, he fished his phone from his pocket and scrolled mindlessly through the sports headlines, sipping from a cardboard cup of coffee and waiting for the dull throbbing in his head to cease and desist. That headache was the first thing he'd been aware of upon awakening, no doubt the result of a bit of overindulgence last night when he got home from Jones's.

Rapid-fire footsteps, in perfect rhythm with the pulsating pain, approached from the right; he knew without even turning around whose they were. Sure enough, Lilly soon appeared next to him, her ponytail looking a bit less polished than usual. She was late, too; at least, by her standards.

It wouldn't take a detective to figure out why.

"Morning, Scotty." Her expression was gracious, but guarded.

"Hey," he replied, but she'd already turned her attention back to the phone in her left hand and the Starbucks cup in her right. A private smile played on her lips, one that suggested her brief foray into the universe Scotty inhabited had come to an abrupt end.

It never used to be like this. They'd been partners, friends—though even that word seemed too shallow for a connection that ran soul-deep—for six years now, and though she kept most everyone at arm's length, he'd somehow managed to get closer to her than anyone else. And that hadn't changed even during any of her previous relationships. They'd still talked, laughed, and joked just as before, still had entire conversations in a single glance. Sometimes, they hadn't needed to talk at all.

But since Saccardo crashed into their lives, with his flannel shirts and his appletinis, those cozy silences now had frost lacing their edges. Lilly was friendly enough, but it was clear that her inner circle had room for only one, and Scotty was no longer that one.

Maybe that was why he couldn't stand the guy.

The elevator dinged and they stepped in, she to the right and he to the left. A handful of others filtered in between them, knocking away a few of the cobwebbed strands of tension. Taking another sip of coffee, Scotty nodded his greeting to a couple detectives he recognized, then turned his attention back to the sports headlines on his phone.

When they reached the office, their co-workers were already stationed at their desks.

"Well, well." Donut in hand, per usual, Vera greeted Lilly with a jovially leering smile. "Looks like someone got a little…undercover action last night."

Scotty's back teeth clacked together; a small fire began to burn behind his breastbone.

Lilly glanced up from where she was calmly sliding her laptop from her shoulder bag. "A lady doesn't kiss and tell, Nick."

Vera shrugged. "Maybe not. But you're, uh…you're missin' an earring." The twinkle in his eyes suggested he had his own theories as to how Lilly had lost it, and where.

"I am?" Lilly's fingers flew to her earlobes. Sure enough, her right ear was bereft of the twin to the small gold knot in her left. "Oh, it, uh…it must've fallen out on the way to work."

"Sure it did." Vera smirked, then took another bite of donut, the suspicion Scotty had seen whirling around in his mind confirmed by the two spots of color high on Lilly's cheekbones.

Perfect.

Fortunately, Stillman chose that moment to emerge from his office, his eyes sharp and businesslike behind wire-rimmed spectacles, a small sheet of paper in his right hand.

"Morning, everyone," the lieutenant said. "Just got off the phone with CSU."

"They got somethin' for us, Boss?" Lilly asked, strategically arranging a couple wisps of hair to cover her naked earlobe.

"Narcotics tossed a crack house in Kensington last night; one of their guys found something. Didn't say what, exactly, just that they thought could be of interest to us." He handed the slip of paper to Lilly. "They asked specifically for you."

Lilly gave the note a cursory glance, then shrugged."I'll go check it out."

"Take Scotty with you," Stillman instructed. "See if this amounts to anything."

"Sure thing, Boss." Folding the note in half, she stuffed it into the pocket of her blazer.

With a satisfied nod, Stillman started to turn back toward the office, then stopped. "Oh, and remember, the Policeman's Gala is Saturday night."

"Blue Ball," Vera corrected around an obviously fake cough, drawing grins from the other detectives.

The lieutenant fixed them with his stoniest stare, though Scotty could tell he, too, was fighting a smile. "Don't let the commissioner hear you call it that. It's our biggest fundraiser of the year."

"Police_man_'s Gala," Kat scoffed. "That's just sexist."

"Yeah, Blue Ball is much classier," Jeffries retorted with a smile.

"Well, whatever you want to call it, attendance, and therefore donations, have been down the last couple of years." Stillman eyed them over the rims of his glasses. "So Commissioner Ryan wanted me to make it crystal-clear to all of you that if you're not on duty Saturday night, you're expected to attend."

Scotty stifled a sigh. It had become his tradition every November to don a tux and spend the evening in a stuffy hotel ballroom sucking down drinks and sucking up to the bored rich housewives from Chestnut Hill. He didn't particularly enjoy it, but he was good at it, and, truth be told, he was also usually on thin enough ice with his superiors that putting in an appearance at the Blue Ball was a smart political move. This year, though, he hadn't pulled anything that'd get him in hot water, so he'd thought maybe he could get away with skipping.

Apparently not.

"That means you, too, Nicky. Will." The boss's steely gaze landed first on Vera, then on Jeffries, both of whom were famous for their staunch avoidance of the yearly bash.

"Gotta love corporate optional," Jeffries muttered.

Vera wadded up the napkin that had contained his donut. "If they think havin' more cops there's gonna fix the donation problems, they're barkin' up the wrong tree."

"Yeah, no joke." Kat reached for her coffee mug. "They know what we get paid."

The boss held up a hand. "Look, I'm not any more excited about it than any of you are. But if I have to be there, then so do you."

"Guess we gotta just…find a way to be on duty Saturday night, then," Jeffries said with a sly smile.

"Maybe we'll luck into a triple." Vera pinged the crumpled napkin into a nearby trash can.

"Oh, c'mon," Lilly protested. "It might be fun."

Wait a minute. She thought Blue Ball would be _fun_? She, who put in only the most cursory appearances on those rare occasions when she bothered to show up at all? Who was she, and what had she done with Lilly Rush?

"Hmmm." Kat arched a brow in Lilly's direction. "Spoken like someone who's got herself a date."

Oh. That'd explain it.

Lilly flashed a cryptic smile and reached for her coffee cup. "Maybe."

Scotty's desire to attend, which had been hovering around zero, plummeted to well below that number.

Vera turned toward Kat, looking suddenly interested. "Take it this means you're goin' stag."

"Just don't tell my mom," Kat replied with a slight roll of her eyes. "Only thing that'd make this less fun is havin' to bring that guy from her church she keeps tryin' to set me up with."

"Yeah, no joke," Vera agreed. "I ain't gonna waste a decent chick on this."

"Amen, brother." Ignoring the scathing glare Kat was shooting them, Scotty extended a fist, which Vera bumped.

"Well, now, I didn't mean for excitement over the Blue Ball to take over our morning," Stillman admonished with a slight grin.

"He's right." Lilly pushed back her chair, then looked toward Scotty. "Ready?"

"One sec." Sliding open a desk drawer, Scotty rummaged around for the bottle of aspirin he kept buried in there somewhere. Fishing it out, he tossed a couple pills down his throat and washed them down with the lukewarm remnants of his coffee.

A frosty car ride with Lil sure wasn't going to help his headache.

He could only hope the aspirin would.

* * *

><p>It was a long, cool car ride to Kensington, despite the warm air blowing in from vents Scotty had turned mostly in Lilly's direction. That was his custom when the weather turned cold, just as she returned the favor in warmer temperatures; one of the little unspoken kindnesses they shared, one of the thousand little mini-rituals that made up their day.<p>

It was things like this which kept Lilly's anxiety mostly pushed to the edges. Scotty was still there, as always, but there was a disapproving chill from him that even the heater in the Taurus couldn't dispel. She suspected it had something to do with Saccardo, though she couldn't fathom why, and she wasn't about to ask him. Their conversations encompassed a wide variety of topics, but not their respective love lives. She had no interest in hearing about the litany of leggy, curvy brunettes her partner was undoubtedly bedding, and before a couple months ago, she wouldn't have had anything to talk about, anyway.

But whether or not she'd sussed out the reason for it, there was no denying the prickly distance Scotty had suddenly put between them. And though Lilly was loath to admit it, some of those prickles were long enough, and sharp enough, to penetrate the thick walls she'd built around her heart. Deep enough at times to hurt.

Less than two years ago, they'd filled the miles between Philly and Nashville with laughter and pleasant conversation. But now, laughter was scarce, and conversation had become strained and difficult. This morning, it seemed Scotty hadn't even wanted to make the attempt. Before they left the parking garage, he'd turned the radio to the classic rock station and filled the awkward silence with zippy commercials and overly perky deejay banter, followed, as always, by "Hotel California."

The buzz of Lilly's phone in her pocket punctuated the canned, slightly mildewed tune, and she retrieved it quickly, expecting some update from Stillman or whoever was on the scene in Kensington. Instead, it was from Saccardo. A photo of a large, ancient-looking canvas bag of rice filled the screen, with an accompanying message.

_Think this'll go with that gunny sack of yours?_

Simple as it was, that text was a ray of pure sunshine, piercing the morning's clouds.

"That from Saccardo?"

Her partner's voice doused the warmth with icy water, and she glanced up, surprised. She'd never heard Saccardo's name from Scotty's lips before; if he ever dared broach the subject, Lilly had always imagined it would be Harry Potter style: He Who Must Not Be Named. Scotty looked surprised, too; it made Lilly wonder how many other times he'd been about to ask her about her relationship and thought better of it.

Well. There was no reason to lie.

"Yeah." Lilly snapped the phone closed and held it in her hand for a moment, looking out the window, hoping something would bring the sunshine back.

"What's up with those…boots of his?"

Brows knit, Lilly turned to study her partner. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Sayin'."

"He's in Narcotics." Lilly looked out the window again. "It's their thing."

Scotty gave a short, bitter laugh. "I was in Narcotics. Never wore Timberlands."

_Well, maybe Eddie's too busy doing his job to read GQ cover to cover every month. _That was what she wanted to say, but she knew it wasn't fair; Scotty worked as hard as the rest of them. Biting back her irritation, she flitted her eyes over her partner's face, trying to figure out what he was really saying, but he showed her his profile before she could get any kind of good look. A mask dropped over his features, hiding everything but the rhythmic twitch of his jaw and the white knobs of his knuckles on the steering wheel.

Her phone buzzed again in her hand, and she rocketed her attention to it. As she'd hoped, it was another text from Saccardo.

_BTW, got a nice surprise for you!_

Once again, she flipped the phone closed and turned toward the window, hoping she'd get a moment to enjoy her smile before Scotty tried to scrub it from her face.

But instead, he pulled up to the curb behind a large white CSU van and threw the car into Park. "Looks like this is it."

Lilly stifled a sigh of relief and unfastened her seat belt, scanning the crowded sidewalk and dilapidated buildings and hoping that whatever CSU had rooted out in here would lead to a case. She and Scotty were both at their best when on the job, when their joint passion for justice drowned out whatever other noise was going on. A murder to investigate wouldn't completely heal the awkwardness, but it'd at least apply a thick salve over the top of it. And maybe, just maybe, they'd have something to talk about on the way back to Headquarters.

She certainly hoped so. Because if she had to hear "Hotel California" one more time, so help her, she'd put a bullet in the radio.


	3. It Keeps Right On A-Hurtin'

**Disclaimer: **My latest nefarious plot to obtain legal ownership of these characters was, sadly, a dismal failure. Back to the drawing board. Until then, they are still not mine, blast it.

**Chapter Three**

**It Keeps Right On A-Hurtin'**

"Well, this neighborhood looks like it's seen better days."

Scotty's offhand comment and his tight, grim smile as he shut Lilly's car door behind her cut through the din of traffic and summed up her own thoughts perfectly. The overcast sky echoed the general mood of the block, one of a dozen or so low-rent Kensington neighborhoods she'd inhabited as a child, where row upon row of identical brownstones stood at attention as far as the eye could see. The homes, whose rich ornamentation near the eaves and around the windows suggested they'd once been the talk of the town, now looked almost embarrassed at the varying stages of dereliction and neglect in which they found themselves.

"It has," she replied, her voice heavy. The neighborhood had already begun a rapid downhill spiral well before she lived here. But as she looked around at boarded-up buildings covered in the graffiti of at least a dozen gangs, rusty chain-link fences outlining patches of dead grass where gas stations and corner groceries once stood, and potholed streets lined with trash that danced and skittered along the curbs, it was obvious things were much worse now.

Her partner's ebony brows arched in a silent question, and she replied with a tight smile. "I lived around the corner for a while when I was a kid."

Scotty didn't press for details. He merely nodded as they fell into step, weaving their way through a hodgepodge of uniformed officers and plainclothes detectives going about their morning's work. Some loaded evidence into large white vans, while others escorted scraps of humanity in varying stages of chemical influence into waiting squad cars. Lilly's eyes fell involuntarily on a thirty-something blonde woman with a blanket draped over her shoulders, her face etched with premature lines, her blue eyes pale and faraway as they blinked their adjustment to daylight.

_Wonder how many dependents that one has._

"There you are, gorgeous!"

The familiar, booming voice jerked Lilly's attention away from the miserable scene and to her right, where, sure enough, Saccardo was waiting for her, a coffee in each hand, a broad smile on his face.

"What's he doin' here?" Scotty grumbled next to her.

"Nice to see you, too, Valens," Saccardo replied before leaning in and feathering a kiss to Lilly's cheek. "Sorry I had to take off too early to wish you good morning all…proper-like." These last words were spoken in a mischievous half-whisper, for which she was glad, but poorly concealed eye-roll from her partner told her he'd heard them all the same.

"Everything all right?" Saccardo asked.

"Fine." Lilly forced lightness into her voice. "I, uh…I lost an earring."

"Oh, really?" He tilted his head to the side, eyes wide with mock innocence. "Where?"

"You know where."

He smirked, and she tossed him an exasperated glare."Just check for me, will you?"

"Sure thing." Saccardo extended the Starbucks cup in his right hand. "Here. Figured you might want a coffee." _After such a late night. _He hadn't said the words, but they danced in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth just the same.

Smiling, Lilly wrapped her fingers around the little cardboard cup, the warmth of the smooth sides knocking the edge off the chill in the air, the invigorating aroma a welcome contrast to the decay all around them.

"Thanks," she said.

Saccardo's dark gaze darted from her to a peevish-looking Scotty. "Oh. Sorry, man. Want mine?" He held out an oversized coffee cup, its clear plastic filled to the brim with some sort of frozen concoction, topped off with a mountain of chocolate-drizzled whipped cream. "It's a triple…mocha thing."

Scotty eyed the drink with barely-disguised disdain. "Come with a spoon?"

Saccardo gave an uncomfortable laugh. "That's a good one."

Cutting an annoyed glance at her partner, Lilly then dismissed him from her mind and clicked her attention back to Saccardo. "So what _are _you doing here? You part of tossin' this place?"

"Yeah." Saccardo placed a hand on her back to guide her through the chaos between where they stood and the front door. "Crack, meth, you name it, my guys found it. Came in early to help finish up and found a nice little present for _you _in the basement."

Lilly arched a brow. "That the surprise you texted me about?"

"You'll see." Grinning, he escorted her through the front door and down a dark, dangerous-looking staircase. Ducking to avoid a low-hanging ceiling bean, they arrived in a basement of cloying odors and clinging dampness, where Saccardo knelt on the cement floor beside a wood-paneled wall.

"Found a false panel in here; thought maybe we'd hit the mother lode, but instead I found this." Saccardo's flashlight fell onto a small cutout in the wall, revealing a worn-looking tan and burgundy suitcase of obviously advanced age nestled inside. "Luggage tag has the name and address of one Eleanor King."

"Eleanor King," Scotty echoed from behind her, and Lilly knew the wheels were spinning in his mind just as they were in her own. "She a cold job?"

"I went ahead and did some checkin' before I called your boss." Saccardo pulled his phone from his pocket.

A grin tugged at Lilly's lips. "So that was you?"

"Yeah." He looked quite proud of himself. "Asked specifically for you; you like that?"

"Mmm." She tried a nonchalant shrug, but her grin gave her away. Scotty's impatient-sounding sigh did the same for him.

Clearing his throat, Saccardo pressed the button on the side and showed Lilly an image of a decades-old Missing poster. "Meet Ellie King, twenty-four years old. This suitcase is the first anyone's seen or heard from her since 1962."

"Wow." Lilly's heart began to beat faster as she looked at the young, beautiful blonde woman in the photo. "You look through it yet?" She was already reaching into her pocket for a pair of latex gloves.

"Now what kind of guy would I be if I didn't let you do the honors?" Saccardo's dark eyes twinkled in the dim light as he pulled on his own pair of gloves. "I got a few minutes before I gotta be back at Headquarters."

Lilly stood back as Saccardo carefully slid the suitcase from its hiding place, then turned to her with a smile and an outstretched hand. "All yours."

Alive with anticipation, she knelt beside Saccardo and ran a hand over the suitcase's faded, dusty exterior. Fabric was worn and peeling off in places, and the latches were covered in rust. She wasn't sure they'd even work, but a few judicious wiggles and they sprang open, ready to reveal the satchel's long-hidden secrets.

A damp, earthy odor filled the air around them as she carefully lifted the lid and began to sift through the contents: sixties-era dresses and skirts, a couple pairs of high-heeled shoes, and various other personal effects. Tucked into the puckered fabric pocket in the lid were two paperbacks by one L. E. Bishop, an author Lilly had never heard of. All the items were age-yellowed and mildew-stained in places, but they were still intact, still able to be sent to the lab. Still able to speak for their long-missing owner.

Toward the bottom, Lilly found a steno pad.

"What's that?" Scotty asked, from where he'd crouched next to them.

"Not sure yet." Lilly glanced through the little notebook. Most of the pages were blank; the few toward the beginning that had been written on were covered with smeared scribbles in fading blue ink. "They took a lot of water damage. Can't make most of it out."

She handed the steno pad to Saccardo, who flipped through another couple pages. Suddenly, he stopped, his flashlight landing on the center of one page. "I dunno, Rush. This kinda looks like a threat to me."

"What makes you so sure?" Scotty asked.

"Well, probably this. 'By my hand you shall meet your end.' Underlined a couple times, too." Ignoring Scotty, Saccardo held out the notebook for Lilly to examine.

Sure enough, it did look like a threat letter. A chill ran through her as her eyes traveled slowly over the words. She tried to imagine the sort of person who'd write such a thing, and what might have happened to bring that person to such a drastic point.

"Find whoever wrote that, you'll probably figure out what happened to Ellie," Saccardo suggested.

"You think?" Scotty's voice was quiet, but machete-sharp.

If Ellie King's steno pad hadn't been an age-brittle piece of potentially key evidence, Lilly may well have thrown it at her partner. Instead, she settled for holding it out to him with another brief, irritated glance. "Let's get this to the lab."

His mouth a tight line, Scotty carefully took the weathered notebook from her hand and headed back toward daylight, his footsteps heavy on the creaky wooden stairs.

With him went a good deal of the tension, and Lilly sighed as she slipped one of Ellie's skirts into an evidence bag. Glancing up at Saccardo, she found him watching her, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"Hey, just between you and me, I'm not sure your partner's my biggest fan," he said.

_Dammit, Scotty. _She'd hoped the sour attitude was only obvious to her, but no such luck. Not that she was particularly surprised. Her partner never had been fantastic at hiding his true feelings.

She tried to smile away Saccardo's concern. "Oh, don't take it personally. Scotty's just…protective." She zipped the bag closed and laid it to the side. "I don't think he's really liked anyone I've dated."

"Hmm." Saccardo flashed a grin as he lifted the two paperbacks out of the suitcase. "Wonder why that is."

Lilly arched a brow. She was used to random witnesses assuming she and Scotty were more than partners, but she'd never expected such a misconception from Saccardo.

"Eddie." She met his gaze over the pile of folded, forty-five year-old clothing."You know it isn't like that with us."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay." Saccardo shrugged as he zipped the books into the bag, his confident smile clear evidence that the matter was already forgotten. "Hey, I was thinkin' for Saturday, we could—"

A muffled, yet insistent electronic chirp cut him off. Muttering an apology, he dug his phone out of his coat pocket and glanced at it. "Sorry, Rush. It's the boss." He got to his feet, phone in hand, then tossed a devilish grin over his shoulder. "Oh, hey, check your pocket."

Lilly blinked up at him. "Check my what?"

Patting his shirt pocket, he raised the phone to his ear and turned toward the stairs. "Yeah. Okay…sure. When?" His voice and his footsteps faded as he climbed the stairs, melding into the rest of the din on the ground floor.

Frowning, Lilly reached into the breast pocket of her jacket, surprised to feel something cold and hard.

A smile bloomed. Her earring. He must've sneaked it in there during their brief embrace.

"Well played," she said aloud to the empty room as she slipped in the earring and double-checked the clasp.

Despite the overcast morning and the dark, dank basement, the sun was shining.

* * *

><p>The wail of Aerosmith's electric guitars filled the car when Scotty started the engine. Angrily, he jabbed the button, sending a screaming Steven Tyler into merciful silence. Lil had hitched a ride back to Headquarters with Saccardo, which meant there wasn't any need for the radio to ease the discomfort this time. Scotty sighed with relief at the quiet, at the opportunity to be alone with his thoughts.<p>

Who the hell did Saccardo think he was, nosing in on their case like that? Sure, he'd found the damn suitcase, but surely he had more Narcotics-related things to do than help Lil dig through its mildewed contents. And she was just as bad. Had it been anyone else, she'd have thanked whoever it was, then said, politely but firmly, that the two of them would take it from there. But now she was acting like some bubble-headed teenager, with her flirty smiles and her missing earring. She'd always been so careful about guarding her privacy; now, she might as well have "I'm Sleeping With Stupid" tattooed on her forehead.

Well, okay, Scotty had to back down from that assertion. Saccardo wasn't stupid. He was a good enough detective. For Narcotics, anyway. But he didn't know Lilly. A few weeks weren't nearly enough time to learn to read the subtle nuances of each expression, the unguarded little micro-flickers of emotion she just couldn't hide. That odd mix of bitterness and nostalgia in her blue eyes when they arrived at the scene, for instance. The cold edge in her voice when she talked about her childhood. The slight clenching of her jaw when she saw that blonde addict. Did Saccardo _know_?

He couldn't. No way. Because if he did, he wouldn't be standing there with his ugly boots and his girly coffee, acting like a damn dog who deposits a dead rodent on the kitchen floor and expects his owner to be impressed.

But the hell of it was, Lilly _was_ impressed, and that was what Scotty couldn't fathom. Was Eddie Saccardo so much fun that his mere presence could instantly bring that megawatt smile to her face? Or was she just that skilled at zipping up her true feelings every time he was around? And what the hell difference did it make, anyway? She was happy, dammit. She was _happy._

Scotty's foul mood clung to him like cobwebs all the way into the squad room, where he poured himself a second cup of coffee and settled into his desk, nodding greetings to his co-workers and ignoring his partner. Vera and Jeffries had already retrieved Ellie King's box from Missing Persons, and they stood before the group, ready to present their findings.

"Twenty-four year-old Eleanor King." Jeffries held up a larger version of the Missing Persons poster Scotty had caught only a glimpse of from Saccardo's cell phone. The black-and-white photo displayed a beautiful young woman, her smile dazzling, her eyes full of hope and life. "Vanished without a trace on June 10, 1962, just three weeks before her wedding."

"Meet the fiancé: James Fleming." Vera held up a yellowed newspaper with the same smiling blonde, now with a handsome, dark-haired man to her left. "His grandfather founded the Fleming Motor Company in 1914."

Scotty's mental gears began to crank. "Fleming…that was one of those small American car companies, right? Mostly luxury sedans, '40s and '50s?"

Stillman nodded. "My old man's boss drove a '46 Fleming Eagle. Everyone envied that car."

"And like a lot of the original small auto makers, Fleming got bought out by one of the big boys," Jeffries said. "In this case, Chrysler in 1970. Not sure what the Flemings are up to now."

Vera consulted a sheaf of paperwork from the box. "Looks like the cops back in the day talked to the fiance several times, but nothing stuck. Prevailing theory seemed to be Ellie got cold feet and pulled a Runaway Bride."

"But that note we found indicates otherwise," Lilly pointed out.

The boss nodded. "That's why the case is ours now."

"Last to see was Ellie's older sister Bridget." Vera glanced up from the notes he was reading. "The two of 'em went out to dinner the night Ellie disappeared; Bridget said Ellie dropped her off. That was the last time anyone saw her."

"Any other family we need to talk to?" Miller asked.

Stillman shook his head. "Parents both died in a car accident three years before."

Lilly flipped through the file Will had just handed her. "Kinda looks like the Flemings took Ellie in." She held up a black-and-white photo of Ellie, James, and an older, portlier version of James, along with a woman of similar age, all posed in front of a shiny, freshly-minted convertible. A grinning Ellie held the keys. "Engagement present?"

"Yeah, maybe." Scotty took the photo from her outstretched hand and studied it, though his interest was inevitably drawn more to the car than the people. That was a sweet ride, no doubt about it. Quality and craftsmanship evident on every inch of that beauty, from her chrome hood ornament to the tip of her tailfins. They sure didn't make 'em like that anymore.

"We know what happened to the car?" Scotty asked, his eyes still glued to the photo.

"That's as much of a mystery as Ellie is," Jeffries replied.

"That's a shame." Scotty gave the car one last, lingering look, then handed the photo back to his partner.

"Well, let's get started," Stillman suggested. "Will, you and Nicky see if you can find any trace of the car. Forty-five years, who knows what people might remember? Miller, track down the sister. I'll do the same with the fiancé, Fleming…and Scotty and Lil, follow up on that suitcase. See if CSU's got any new tidbits for us."

Chairs scraped and papers rustled as the detectives gathered their things and prepared to launch into the day's task. Lilly took another long sip from the cardboard cup Saccardo had given her at the scene, then gazed at it with a slightly-dreamy smile on her face. When she glanced up and saw Scotty watching her, she erased the smile and hastily set the cup down.

"Shall we?" she asked.

Irritation poked him in the chest. "Sure you wouldn't rather take Saccardo?"

Her eyes sparked, and for a moment, he was sure she was about to read him the riot act, but the blue flame of anger rapidly chilled to something far more distant and icy. It was as though she'd just decided it wasn't worth it. That _he_ wasn't worth it.

"We're at work, Scotty. So…let's work." Without waiting for his response, she turned and clicked her way toward the exit.

Scotty quickly followed, knowing from experience that as soon as they jumped into this case, as soon as they had the distractions of evidence and witnesses and all the knots and tangles that would inevitably crop up, that things between them would be smoothed over. He and Lilly were partners, after all. A good team. That hadn't changed.

It was about the only thing that hadn't.


	4. Party Lights

**A/N:** We're traveling next week, so this chapter is up a smidge early!

This coming week is Thanksgiving in the US, and I wanted to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have read and enjoyed my stories. It's been so much fun revisiting the Cold Case fic-verse and getting to know all of you. I love the friendships I've developed on this site, and I'm very thankful for each and every one of you.

Julia—Thank you so, so much for your wonderfully kind guest review! The site doesn't allow authors to reply to guest reviews directly (you have to have an account for that), but I wanted to take the opportunity here to let you know I deeply appreciate hearing from you.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

**Party Lights**

The sun sinking low in the sky late that Saturday afternoon, Lilly looked into her bedroom mirror and studied her reflection.

She almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at her.

The gorgeous crimson gown she had to be coaxed into even trying on. The effortless-looking professionally-created hairstyle requiring an untold number of bobby pins and enough hair spray to make her whisper a silent apology to the ozone layer. The unplanned mani-pedi. The darker, smokier eyeshadow; the brighter shade of lipstick.

She'd really gone all out for the Blue Ball, an event to which she normally just slipped into her standard, years-old little black dress, curled her hair, and called it a day. But from what few things she'd managed to pin down about Eddie Saccardo, she was pretty sure he wasn't just going to show up in a canvas rice bag. The twinkles in his eyes and the grins that tugged at his lips these last couple days told her he was taking advantage of a lame, corporate-optional event to create something special, something magical, so she'd decided to be prepared. Now, looking into the mirror, joyful anticipation bubbled up in her chest. All the effort had paid off. She looked like a million bucks. And she couldn't wait to see his reaction.

Tripod and Olivia perched on the bed behind her, eyeing the woman in the mirror with such suspicion that Lilly had to laugh.

"Don't worry, girls." She gave each cat a reassuring scratch behind the ears. "It's just me."

Tripod stared back at her, still unconvinced, while Olivia, in that oddly prescient way she had about her, leaped from the bed and positioned herself by the window. Seconds later, a car roared to a stop just outside. The sound of its engine, a far cry from the usual rice rockets and city buses that paraded past her house, drew Lilly's attention, and she nudged the sheer white curtain aside to get a better look at…wait, was that a Maserati?

She stared, then smiled as the sleek burgundy sedan shuddered into silence and a tuxedo-clad Saccardo climbed out. Butterflies zooming up and down the length of her body in a way they hadn't done since high school, Lilly grabbed her clutch and scratched both her pets behind the ears.

"I'll be back before sunup." _Maybe, _she added with a grin as she picked up her skirts and carefully descended the stairs.

Halfway down, a firm, decisive knock came to the door, and her hammering heart leaped into her throat. "It's open."

"You kiddin' me?" The door creaked. "What kinda cop leaves their door op…"

The rest of the word died on his lips, forever unuttered, as Saccardo stepped into her living room and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Hey, Saccardo." Her eyes traveled over him from head to toe. The warm, sparkling brown eyes and eager grin. The sharp, clean lines of his tux making him look even taller and stronger than normal. Every detail of his appearance spoke of extravagance; what she didn't know about men's fashion could fill the Schuylkill, but this tux had clearly cost him some serious dough.

Saccardo, meanwhile, seemed to have recovered from his shock. Crossing the room, he gently grasped her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes, his own dark with desire.

"You look…" he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Smokin' hot."

Lilly grinned. She'd take that.

"Thank you." She stepped back and laid the sparkly silver clutch on an end table. "And you were right, y'know. You do clean up pretty damn good."

"Well, I knew you had somethin' better than a gunny sack in that closet of yours. Figured I'd better represent."

Chuckling, she trailed a finger over his lapel. "So the car's what, just showin' off?"

Dark brows lifted. "You already saw the car?"

"From the upstairs window, yeah."

His mouth formed a tight line of mock disappointment. "Damn. I was hopin' to surprise you."

"Sorry."

"Good thing I got a backup plan." With a mischievous grin, he reached into the breast pocket of his tux and pulled out a slender black velvet box.

Lilly's eyes grew huge, and the lungful of air she was in the process of taking in stayed suspended in her chest. "Eddie…"

"Might wanna open it before you go all goggle-eyed, Rush." He placed the box in fingertips that were suddenly incapable of movement on their own. "For all you know, it's just an empty box."

With a self-deprecating grin, Lilly snapped the box open to reveal a sparkling diamond pendant nestled on a bed of white satin. The lights of her living room split the stone into thousands of tiny prisms; flashes of red, blue and green danced before her eyes as the box jiggled in her suddenly shaking hands.

"It's…it's beautiful."

"I was hopin' you'd say that." The ever-confident Saccardo suddenly sounded a little husky. "'Cause…unlike the car, it's not a rental."

Lilly glanced up in surprise. Though not the largest diamond in the world, it was still far larger than anything she'd have ever imagined receiving from a fellow detective. "How'd you ever afford this?"

His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I know a guy."

"You 'know a guy?'" She arched a brow. "C'mon. I know what you make."

He chuckled. "Y'know, most girls'd ask a lot fewer questions."

She tossed him a flirty smile. "I'm not most girls."

"I know." Gently, he lifted her chin and brushed her lips with a soft, reverent kiss, bringing a quiet stirring to her heart. He was a perpetual mystery; every question for which she found an answer led to three more. But here, right now, she suddenly sensed a glimpse into the real person behind all the razzle-dazzle.

"So, uh…" he cleared his throat. "You gonna put this thing on, or what?"

It took her a moment to remember the necklace she held in her hands. Grinning, she fished it out of its satiny nest, handed him the box, and undid the clasp.

He laid the box on the back of the couch. "Want some help?"

Lowering the necklace into his outstretched palm, she smiled and turned around. He fumbled with the clasp for a moment, his fingertips tickling the sensitive skin of her neck and sending shivers throughout her whole body.

"There;" He sounded satisfied, and Lilly looked down to find the pendant resting on her chest, as though it had always belonged there. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; the delicate gold chain highlighted her collarbones; the sparkling diamond made her eyes look brighter, her smile bigger. Behind her, Saccardo's hands rested on her shoulders, his normally-cocky grin turned warm and tender.

"Thank you." She turned and kissed him again. "It's beautiful."

"You're welcome." He allowed one more quick kiss, then stepped back, answering her silent question with a lopsided grin. "You got no idea how much I wish this thing wasn't corporate-optional."

Excitement zinged through her at that. Any other year, she'd jump at the chance to ditch the Blue Ball and enjoy a night in with Saccardo, but this night meant far more to her than just putting in an appearance at a required schmooze-fest. Magic, if such a thing truly existed, had always been in short supply for Lilly. Now, though, a trail of it seemed to shimmer and dance in the air around them, and she wanted to follow it where it led.

"C'mon, Saccardo. The night is young." She picked up her clutch, then grabbed his hand and started for the door. "Let's see how fast that car can go."

* * *

><p>Music mingled with the clinks of glasses and the cacophony of the crowd, bright lights glinted off the ballroom's marble columns and crystal chandeliers, and Scotty leaned against the bar, waiting for the scotch he'd ordered upon arrival at the gala. If he was going to spend the evening sucking up to overly-perfumed Chestnut Hill housewives with delusions of youth and more money than they knew what to do with, he was damn well going to have a little booze in his system first.<p>

As he waited, he scanned the ballroom, taking in the swirl of dark tuxedoes and colorful gowns, each more dazzling than the last. And, sure enough, not twenty feet away from him, her artificially enhanced assets spilling out the top of a skin-tight silver evening gown, was Gina Newman. The wife of one of Philly's wealthiest real estate moguls, she'd spent the vast majority of last year's Blue Ball flirting openly with Scotty. He'd flirted back, to a point; his interest in Gina was strictly financial, but apparently it had been enough. After spending her evening flaunting her enormous bosom, she'd written an even larger check to the department.

Gina spotted him and waggled coy, manicured fingers in his direction. Pasting a smile onto his face, Scotty tossed her a cheerful wave, then grabbed the scotch that had just arrived in front of him, downed about half of it, and looked around for someplace to hide. He wasn't ready for Gina Newman and her implants. Not yet.

To his relief, tucked away in a corner not far from the bar, he found Vera and Kat standing near a tall table, both uncharacteristically spit-and-polished, though Nick's hair was slightly mussed and his tie was already loose. And Scotty had never seen Kat Miller dressed up before, but in that short, sparkly, deep purple number, she looked…actually, she looked good. Really good.

And she was laughing uproariously at something Vera had said, which was…also unusual.

"Hey," Scotty greeted his friends.

"Hey, baby, you made it!" Beaming, Kat wobbled toward him on a dangerous-looking pair of high heels and swallowed him up in an enthusiastic embrace.

As they pulled apart, Scotty eyed the glass in her hand, empty but for a few ice cubes. "How much have you had to drink?"

"This is my first. 'Bout to be my second." Giggling, she lurched off toward the bar.

Scotty arched a brow and leaned toward Vera. "Might be her first one here…but it ain't her first."

"I think she's just thrilled to have a night out," Vera raised his glass and clinked it against Scotty's. "I'll keep an eye on her."

Nodding his satisfaction, Scotty sipped his drink and looked around the room again, trying to figure out where to start. Stillman was in a corner, chatting up some of the brass, Will was just arriving…

…and all the way across the room, a flash of blonde hair and ruby-red satin. Instantly captivated, Scotty craned his neck as much as he dared, but the crowds pressing in all around the woman, who had her back to him to begin with, made it impossible for him to see who she was, or whether she'd been here last year, or whether she'd come with anyone. But even the quick glimpses he got of her long neck, her delicate shoulder blades, and the graceful sweep of slender hips were enough to pique his interest.

Soon, the sea of humanity engulfed her entirely; he thought he might still see a sliver of her left elbow, but he wasn't sure. Damn. That was someone he wouldn't mind schmoozing with later, Chestnut Hill housewife or no.

"Everything all right, Scotty?"

He snapped to attention almost audibly; Jeffries was standing just to his right, eyeing him curiously.

"Yeah." He smoothed his tie and raised his scotch to his lips. "Just…thought I saw someone."

"I'm back!" Kat crowed, raising her glass in triumph. "Miss me?"

Scotty chuckled at the surprised look on Will's face, one that must've mirrored his own upon first encountering an inebriated Kat Miller.

"You plannin' to use this as blackmail, Nick?" Jeffries asked.

Vera grinned over the rim of a bottled beer. "Maybe."

"You do and I'll cut you," Kat snarled.

At Vera's questioning expression, she narrowed her dark, unnaturally long-lashed eyes. "A stiletto heel can be used as a murder weapon. Known fact."

"And here I was thinkin' you'd go for poison," Scotty joked, then took another slow-burning sip of scotch. Mmm. Not bad for something the department threw together. Wasn't top shelf, but it was good. Smooth, easy-drinking. He closed his eyes to relish the buttery warmth on his tongue, to steel himself for what was bound to be a long evening, and—

"Hey, guys."

The familiar voice spoke up amid the unfamiliar swish of skirts, and Scotty opened his eyes and prepared to greet his partner.

But whatever words he would've said tumbled back down his throat at the sight of her. His lungs froze mid-breath, not quite able to expel the air already in them, but equally unable to take in more. He'd always known his partner was attractive; he'd have to have been blind not to. But she'd never hit the beautiful mark until now.

No, that wasn't quite right. She'd peeled past the beautiful mark with a squeal of tires and a cloud of smoke, leaving it a barely visible dot in her rear-view mirror. Blonde hair neatly piled up on top of her head, a few artful tendrils dancing about her cheekbones. Sapphire eyes sparkling in tandem with a glittery pair of earrings. Deep scarlet lips curved in a hopeful smile. The slender column of her neck, accented by a delicate—and expensive-looking—diamond pendant, her creamy shoulders, and that lithe body perfectly encased in a gorgeous crimson satin dress. The same dress, the same body, he realized, that he'd spied across the crowded ballroom a few minutes back. That woman, the one who'd so easily enchanted him, and Lilly—his friend, his partner—they were one and the same.

It was almost more than his brain could handle.

"Lookin' good, Valens." The vision spoke, and, after a delay, Scotty realized the need to formulate some kind of response.

"Yeah." The word came out thick and garbled; he cleared his throat. "Thanks. You look—"

He paused. There was a word out there, he was sure of it. But everything he could come up with—unbelievable, breathtaking, elegant, hot—all failed to accurately encompass her beauty. He flitted through his mental catalog of Spanish adjectives; maybe one of those would—

"There you are, gorgeous." Scotty's blood pressure skyrocketed as the perfect word, and a glass of champagne for Lilly, both arrived courtesy of an Armani-clad Eddie Saccardo. Clamping his back teeth together, Scotty forced his lips into a smile.

"Evenin', Saccardo."

"Valens," Saccardo replied with a smirk and a nod.

"_Damn_," an overloud female voice spoke up next to him. "You two look _amazing."_

Amazing. That would've been another good word.

"Fucking _amazing," _Kat repeated, swirling the drink in her glass.

Lilly's earrings danced with her surprised flinch; long-lashed blue eyes darted suspiciously toward Vera. "She drunk?"

"Lil' bit," Vera replied.

"So'd you two try to one-up each other tonight, or what?" Jeffries asked.

Lilly and Saccardo exchanged one of those insider, couple-y looks over the rims of their champagne flutes. "Well, I think the Maserati pushes you over the top," she said.

"Maserati?" Scotty hadn't thought he could dislike Eddie Saccardo any more than he already did. He was wrong.

"I dunno, Rush; this is pretty stiff competition." Saccardo's thick fingers toyed with the delicate pendant around Lilly's neck in an almost proprietary way.

"_Damn_." Miller's drunken vocabulary appeared to have shrunk to that single syllable, though Scotty had to admit his wasn't much larger, even with nowhere near the amount of alcohol in his system that Kat had.

"Yeah, that looks real," Vera muttered.

"But you gave it to me." Lilly smiled up at Saccardo. "So I think you still win."

"I think we both win." Saccardo's eyes traveled up and down Lilly's body with the air of a king surveying newly-conquered territory, and Scotty rocketed his attention back to his scotch glass, which was suddenly and inexplicably empty.

Damn.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Kat spoke up next to him, hand clapped over her mouth, eyes darting frantically this way and that as Vera jumped back faster than Scotty had ever seen the man move.

"Yeah," Scotty grumbled into his empty glass. "Me too."

"Wait…Nope!" Kat chirped after a beat. "Nope! False alarm! I'm okay!" Practically tossing her empty glass onto the silver tray of the waiter who happened to be passing by, she looked around the circle, hair aquiver, eyes semi-wild. "Who wants to dance?"

"That sounds like a great idea." Saccardo gently took Lilly's champagne glass and placed both it and his own empty flute on the passing tray, all without ever tearing his gaze from her.

She dimpled her delight. "All right, Saccardo. Let's see what you got."

"Later, gents. Lady," Saccardo called to the group with a cheerful wave over his shoulder as Lilly slipped her arm into his.

"C'mon, Nicky." Kat grabbed the hand of a startled Vera and hauled him toward the dance floor with a strength Scotty wasn't aware she possessed. "Mama needs to _move."_

Jeffries fumbled in his coat pocket for his phone, then held it up in the direction of the gyrating Kat and the bemused Vera. "Now there's blackmail material if I ever saw it." Grinning, Will strode forward to get a better angle.

With a chuckle that didn't even sound like it came from him, Scotty glanced down at his empty glass, the glass that had somehow completely missed the passing trays, and strode purposefully toward the bar. He was pretty sure that no amount of alcohol he could consume would be able to get him through this night…but damned if he wasn't going to try.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Okay, show of hands, who's sick of Saccardo? Yep…yep…I see you…okay, thank you. Yeah, you're probably going to be pretty cool with chapter five.


	5. Stranger on the Shore

**A/N: **I'm back! We had a great trip, but we are equally glad to be home.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

**Stranger on the Shore**

_I watched your ship as it sailed out to sea  
>Taking all my dreams and taking all of me<em>

Scotty downed the last of his scotch, deposited his glass on the tray of a passing server, and swam through the sea of humanity toward the bar for a refill, grateful to escape the cloying perfume and prominently-displayed, unnaturally large bosom of Gina Newman. She'd flirted outrageously, just like last year. And, just like last year, he'd feigned polite interest in her book club and her tennis matches and that police procedural she liked with the cute actor she thought looked like him and on and on and _on _and please dear God s_top. _But he knew the longer he sat there grinning and flirting back and inserting witty comments at the appropriate times, the larger the check would be. Which would mean that maybe they could finally replace that temperamental fax machine, or upgrade those stone-age computers. _Take one for the team, Valens. You're the only one in the squad who can schmooze._

Well. That wasn't entirely true. Will could, when he wasn't hiding out in the smoking lounge with a cigar and a handful of old-timers who didn't want to be there any more than he did. Lilly could, when she wasn't draped all over Saccardo like an ill-fitting coat. Even Nick could, when he shelved his chauvinistic humor and—good God, was someone dancing on a _table_? Even for the Blue Ball, this was a first.

A split second later, Scotty realized it was Kat perched up there, singing along with Ella Fitzgerald on the sound system, surrounded by a small, but appreciative, glut of onlookers. Bypassing the bar entirely, he hurried toward them, reaching the corner table just as Ella—and Kat, who, frankly, didn't sound half bad—reached the grand finale. As she finished with a triumphant flourish, her audience clapped and whistled. Kat took a bow, and that's when Scotty spied Vera standing in the front row. Not leering or making snide comments, as Scotty expected, but watching Kat with a peculiar mixture of awe, affection, and amusement.

"Come on," Nick said quietly to the drunken diva when the applause died down. "Let's get you down from there."

A couple of the bystanders groaned their disappointment; Scotty was about to tell them to piss off when a lethal glare from Vera accomplished the task for him.

"Easy," Nick was saying, and Scotty rushed to his aid. Together, the two of them eased a giggling Miller down from the tabletop to a wobbly halt on her too-high heels.

"You guys are the best," she enthused. "The _best. _I _love _you guys."

"Uh-huh." Vera gently unhooked her arms from around his neck. "Let's get you home."

"I can drive her." Scotty was already digging in his pocket for his keys.

Vera grinned. "That sick of this thing already, huh?"

Well, Scotty wouldn't lie; there were at least six dozen other things he'd rather be doing. Especially given those glimpses of Lilly and Saccardo that kept assaulting his vision, glimpses of red satin and a dazzling smile and that shit-eating _that's right, fellas, she's all mine _smirk plastered all over jackass Saccardo's face.

Scotty shrugged. "Unless you can think of a reason I need to stick around."

"Might be able to do that." Vera's grin shifted to a spot just over Scotty's left shoulder. "Brunette at the end of the bar; she's been givin' you the eye for the last five minutes. You gonna go talk to her or what?"

As subtly as he could, Scotty turned to look behind him. Sure enough, an attractive, little-black-dress-clad woman with a cascade of chestnut curls was perched on a barstool. When their eyes met, she offered a coy smile.

"Yeah, Scotty," Kat echoed, in what was patently not an indoor voice. "Go talk to her."

The brunette at the bar raised a manicured hand to red lips in an effort to stifle a giggle. Something about the amusement in her dark eyes looked familiar. Scotty couldn't place her, but he thought he'd seen her around Headquarters a time or two, which meant she probably wasn't some Chestnut Hill housewife. The thought filled him with eager relief.

Tossing a grin in her direction, he then turned back toward Vera. "You sure you got this?"

"Yeah. We're good." Slipping an arm around Kat's waist, Vera gently steered her toward the exit. "C'mon, sunshine. Let's get you home."

Scotty watched them go, puzzling over the strange dynamic between them. It seemed that a soused Kat brought out the sensitive side of Nick Vera, and Scotty would've been hard-pressed to put money on that particular idiosyncrasy of their generally-snarky friendship.

Well. He'd figure that one out that later. For now, there was an attractive woman to chat with, one who wouldn't require him to suck up or check his dignity at the door or watch as she made the do-me eyes at Eddie Saccardo. It was an opportunity for escape, right there on a gleaming silver platter, and he'd be an idiot not to take it.

Decision made, he smoothed his tie and headed for the bar.

"Scotty Valens, right?" the brunette asked as he slid onto the stool next to her. "From the cold case unit?"

Scotty grinned. "Depends on who's askin'."

"I am." Large, catlike eyes rose to meet his. "I'm Frankie Rafferty. From the lab. And I'd like to buy you a drink."

His eyebrows shot up; his lips curved. "Bold move."

"You think that's bold…" Her hand slid across the bar; slender fingers draped over his wrist. "I'm just getting warmed up."

_Well_, then. Maybe there was hope for the evening after all.

* * *

><p>If someone had told Lilly Rush that one of the most romantic evenings of her life would feature, as part of its soundtrack, a song by Celine Dion, she would've laughed. She'd never quite forgiven the Canadian chanteuse for that god-awful song from <em>Titanic. <em>And yet here Lilly was, in the middle of a dance floor, illuminated by the starlight of crystal chandeliers, warm and secure in Saccardo's arms, and she was listening to Celine Dion, and it was oddly, wonderfully perfect. She felt like Cinderella at the ball.

"Gotta hand it to you, Saccardo." She grinned up at him as he led her in a turn. "You're not a bad dancer."

The gleam in his eyes was all the warning he gave her before lowering her into a deep dip. She yelped in surprise, then laughed as he held her there, mere inches above the floor, safe in the muscled curve of his arm.

"Pretty soon, Rush, you're gonna quit underestimating me." His voice was husky, eyes glittering and intense as he looked deep into hers. He kissed her then, probably longer than was proper, though from the state some of her colleagues were in, she doubted anyone would even notice, let alone care.

Just as she started to get dizzy, Saccardo ended the kiss, then raised her to her feet and drew her close. With a happy murmur, she rested her chin on his broad shoulder and breathed deep of his cologne, of his warmth, of _him_.

A low humming sound rose up from his chest, and then, pulling her even closer, he began to sing along with Celine in a deep, rich baritone, the words tickling the sensitive shell of her outer ear. She couldn't help but laugh.

"What, you don't like my voice?"

"Just never figured you for much of a singer, Saccardo."

"There you go underestimatin' me again."

Lilly pulled back to search his eyes. "You're really pullin' out all the stops tonight."

Immediately, there was tension in his shoulders, a slight hesitation in his movements, a rapid melting-away of his self-assured swagger.

Her brow creased. "What?"

"I…kinda have to." He took a deep breath. "The boss called right after we got here."

The truth she read in his eyes caused her heart to sink to her shoes. "It's tonight, isn't it?"

He nodded. "And you got no idea how much I wish it wasn't." His hands tightened around her waist, as though she alone anchored him to the here and now, to the bright lights and sultry music, to the magic that was still shimmering in the air, to this one incredible, perfect evening.

"Dammit." Swallowing hard, she braced herself for the inevitable heartbreak. "When?"

"Gotta be there by midnight."

No amount of bracing would've prepared Lilly for that. The shock made her recoil backwards. "Midnight? Tonight? That—that's less than two hours away! Why didn't you tell me?"

Saccardo smiled, a sheepish, hopeful smile that was a mere shadow of his usual self-confident smirk. "Didn't wanna ruin your magical evening."

She felt the burn of tears at that. The dull ache in her heart, the numb, chilly emptiness that draped over her like a thick blanket her every time someone was about to walk out of her life. She hadn't realized until this moment just how alone she was going to feel without him.

"I tried, Rush," he said low against her cheek. "Kept tryin' to stall it. Told him to take someone else."

Her heart gave a painful squeeze. "But it's you."

"Yeah."

He was trying to make it better, but it was just getting worse. He was leaving. It didn't matter how hard he'd tried to avoid it, to delay it, to hold it off…he was still leaving. The pain that brought was swift and sharp, like a knife thrust. Hastily, she tried to staunch the bleeding with the defense mechanisms that had served her so well for so long.

"So what does this mean? You're gonna…roll into town under cover of darkness?" Lilly flashed what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. "Leave me secret letters if I promise not to blow your cover?"

He grinned. "Hey, last time I checked, you kinda liked that idea."

She laughed despite herself. "I did. I do…."

"But…"

"But I was kinda starting to like this, too."

"I know, Lilly." He traced the curve of her jaw with his forefinger. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Really. It is." She pasted on a smile to convince him. To convince herself.

"I got time for one last dance." Saccardo held his arms open to her, and she stepped into them, blinking away the tears that threatened. Pulling him close, she rested her chin on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and tried to absorb every molecule of him that she possibly could. To keep him here. Somehow. To make him stay. To be enough, to be someone he couldn't walk away from. But she knew her efforts would be futile. They would have their dance, and he would kiss her goodbye, and then he would walk out of that ballroom and into his other world, his other life. Was his life undercover his real one? Or was it this one, here, with her? It was another mystery she'd never managed to solve.

So she just held him; soaked him up, breathed him in. Tried to hold onto as much of him as she could. All too soon, the tide would roll out, and she'd be left standing on the beach, staring out at the ocean.

She only hoped she could somehow get enough of him in these next few minutes to last her until the tide came in again.

* * *

><p>"You missed first base, by the way."<p>

She'd warned him she was bold, but Frankie's words startled Scotty anyway as he led her in slow circles, attempting, with only marginal success, to avoid staring at Lilly and Saccardo, who were swaying at the center of the dance floor. It had been a long time since junior high, when baseball metaphors actually meant something, and for the life of him Scotty couldn't remember whether first base was holding hands or kissing—not that it mattered, because he was nowhere near trying to go for any of the bases with this woman.

Her smile turned impish at his confusion; he knew from the gleam in her chocolate brown eyes that she knew exactly where his mind had gone, and she'd led it there on purpose.

"At the softball game last Saturday." Her wide smile grew wider still. "Missed it by a foot; you were too busy admiring your home run."

He bristled at her teasing comment. That home run was a _beauty, _not to mention the one that had ultimately won the game. And he _had _touched the base; he a_lways _touched the base; he would _never_ forget a fundamental like that. How would this Frankie person know, anyway? Was she _there? _He flitted through the scant recollections he had of the game, but he was only able to devote about ten percent of his brain to the task, because the rest of it was forcing his brow into a slight furrow at what was unfolding before him as he and Frankie circled around again. Lilly and Saccardo had stopped dancing and were just standing there, looking at each other. She had her back to Scotty, so he had no hope of reading her expression, but he could see Saccardo gently lifting her chin and looking deep into her eyes with a sad smile.

"I played second base."

Frankie's words once again yanked Scotty back. He tried to focus, tried to remember circling the bases amid the cheers of his teammates and the scattered fans in the bleachers, the crunch of dust beneath his feet and the thud of the softball landing in a clump of grass on the other side of the chain link fence. He knew there'd been a woman on second, but he couldn't say for sure whether it was this one or not, because he hadn't been paying attention then, and he sure as hell wasn't paying attention now, now that Lilly and Saccardo were kissing.

"Yeah, that's right." He jerked his focus away from that and steered Frankie in a slightly faster circle. It was enough to know about Lil and that jackass; he didn't need to _witness _it. Instead, he looked into laughing brown eyes and that wide, red-lipped smile and arranged his features into a flirtatious grin. "Y'know, I touched that base."

"Mmm." She looked up at him, seeming pleased. "The sweetest lies are the ones we tell ourselves."

At least, that was what he thought she'd said. But whatever focus he'd been able to devote to Frankie was lassoed back to the dance floor, because as they circled around again, he realized that Lilly was still standing there, but Saccardo was nowhere to be seen.

She looked like a statue, a beautiful, tragic statue, a woman turned to stone. Except stone couldn't shed tears…and Lilly looked like she was trying like hell to avoid doing exactly that.

That ground him to a halt. Because after all the years he'd been with her, everything they'd been through together, he'd never, not once, seen her cry. But now a lone tear on her cheek caught the light of the crystal chandelier overhead.

Suddenly, the statue came to life; she blinked for a couple seconds, then seemed to remember where she was and what she was doing. Swiping at the tear, she did an about-face and headed in the opposite direction, toward the doors to the balcony, the swish of her skirts and click of her heels audible over the Norah Jones song playing over the sound system.

"Everything all right?"

Snapping to attention, Scotty looked down and saw Frankie frowning up at him, cherry lips pursed in confusion.

"Yeah." Gently, he disengaged his hands from where they'd been resting at the small of her back. "Yeah, I just…I gotta go check on somethin'. Excuse me."

"Okay. Sure." Frankie's frown deepened as she reluctantly slid her arms off his shoulders. "Call me."

But he was already halfway across the room.


	6. No Man Is An Island

**A/N:** Thank you to all who have reviewed, faved, followed, or are otherwise enjoying this story! The site won't let me reply directly to guest reviews, but I do want to thank you for taking the time to stop by!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

**No Man is an Island**

_You don't have to fight me, I am for you  
>We're not meant to live this life alone<em>

Lilly leaned her elbows against the railing and stared at the streets below, hypnotized by the swish of traffic and the little red and white dots of headlights and taillights. Part of her was looking for a Maserati in that mix, though she knew that, even if she were able to reliably pick a Maserati out of a lineup, being on the balcony of a top-floor ballroom would make it impossible to know for sure. The rest of her was sort of glad for that. Seeing that car, actually _seeing _it, would just be another knife thrust to her already-punctured heart.

"You'll freeze out here."

The words gave her a start, because she hadn't heard the door open, hadn't heard anyone come outside. For a wild micro-moment, she thought it might be Saccardo, but a glance over her shoulder proved what she'd known in her gut.

It wasn't Saccardo. It was just Scotty.

"I'm not cold." At least, she hadn't felt it if she was. But when she looked down, she realized her arms were laced rather tightly across her chest, and her hands were rubbing at her goosebump-covered flesh in a useless attempt to ward off the nip in the November air.

"Here." Footsteps grew closer behind her, fabric rustled at her back, and the next thing she knew Scotty was draping his jacket over her shoulders. The warmth from his body clung to it; she caught a whiff of the aftershave he always wore. It was almost like an embrace.

Tugging it a bit tighter around herself, fingering the lapels, she glanced to her right, where Scotty had taken up a position against the railing. He had to be cold; the breeze was ruffling the thin white fabric of his shirt, pinning it to his upper arm, but he wasn't complaining.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Thanks, Scotty."

"Sure." He tossed her a grin, followed by a brief, but searching, look. "Everything okay?"

Avoiding his eyes, she looked out over the city, over the deep dark _somewhere _where Saccardo was preparing to become someone else, to ship out and disappear into a dangerous underworld.

"Yeah. Fine," she said.

Her partner gave a quiet chuckle. "We're really gonna do this? We're gonna do this thing where you're out here, freezin' your ass off and starin' at traffic, and you're still gonna claim you're fine?"

She hadn't wanted to talk about this with him, hadn't wanted to open herself up for another round of sarcastic comments about Saccardo's fashion sense or his choice of beverages. But the compassion in Scotty's coffee-colored eyes told her he wasn't going to do that. Not tonight. Tonight he was a friend.

She needed a friend.

With a soft sigh, she stared out at the city again, her fingertips finding the diamond pendant and rocking it gently back and forth on its delicate gold chain. "Saccardo had to go back under."

"What, tonight?"

"Yeah."

Scotty blew out a breath. "Guess...his boss must not think fundraisin's quite so important."

His comment brought a smile, despite everything. "Guess not."

"I'm sorry, Lil."

The compassion in his voice did for her heart what his jacket was doing for her skin. Tugging it more tightly around herself, she looked over at him. "Oh, it's…who he is. It's what he does. I'll be fine, really, it's just…" she gave a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. "Tonight was supposed to be special."

"You don't...wanna go back in there, do you?" She glanced up to find him watching her out of the corner of his eye, his profile sharp against the night sky.

She shook her head. "I was just about to call a cab."

"This late? Alone?"

"Well, they do let me carry a gun, y'know."

He turned toward her. "I know, just…sorry. Didn't mean to imply…"

Her lips curved. It was sort of adorable, watching him twist in the wind. "I know, Scotty."

"It's what partners do, I guess." He shrugged.

"Hmm." Mischief bubbling to the surface, she stole another glance in his direction. "Y'know, I don't think I've ever worried about you taking a cab alone at night."

"Well, now I'm just insulted."

She laughed, a genuine laugh she hadn't known she was capable of at this moment. He laughed, too, his eyes sparkling with amusement—and a bit of relief, if she wasn't mistaken. How long had it been since they'd laughed together? Too long.

He seemed to think so, too, because he suddenly straightened to his full height and pinged both hands off the railing. "C'mon. Let's get outta here."

"Where?"

He thought for a moment, then flashed a mysterious grin. "I know the perfect place."

* * *

><p>"Well, you were right." Scotty caught a flash of a grin as Lilly leaned over the edge of her chair and lifted her second bottle of beer out of the box between them. "This is the perfect place."<p>

They were on the roof of his building, the city spread out before them like a quilt of twinkling golden lights. It was peaceful up here. Quiet. He came up sometimes when he needed to be alone with his thoughts, when the close quarters of his apartment got to be too much for him.

He'd never brought anyone else here before.

He tossed her a grin and the bottle opener. "Glad you like it."

She was still dressed up, still wearing that gorgeous red ballgown, although she was, to his relief, starting to look more and more like herself. The Lilly he knew was still there, underneath the fancy hair and the makeup, and he was glad.

She was also still wearing his jacket. He'd never asked for it back, and she'd poked her arms into it on the way out to the parking garage, to his beloved Mustang. It was no Maserati, but she didn't seem to mind.

"This the car you bring on dates?" she teased as she climbed in, and that was when he realized that, in all the years they'd been partners, she'd never seen his pride and joy.

"Sometimes," he'd shrugged, then changed the subject. He'd never been comfortable discussing any aspect of his love life with his partner. He'd never really been sure why.

She handed back the bottle opener, which he used to pop the top off his own beer, then stuffed the opener back into the pocket of the Phillies hoodie he'd thrown on over the remnants of his tux during their brief stop in his apartment. He'd grabbed some coats and blankets, the six-pack they'd picked up on the way here, and a couple of lawn chairs, and now here they were, in their own private little rooftop paradise.

Such as it was.

Lilly took a long, luxurious sip of beer, then laid her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, snuggling deeper into the folds of his tux jacket and the blanket, overcoat, and scarf he'd insisted she add on top of it.

"You ain't cold, are you?" he asked.

She smiled without opening her eyes. "No, I…I think it's nice."

Her response warmed him better than any fireplace or furnace ever could. "Good."

Lilly opened her eyes then, eyes that twinkled a deep midnight blue in the dim light, and smiled over the rim of her Oktoberfest. "Think Boss'll be mad we ditched?"

"Hey." He gestured toward her with his beer bottle. "Dunno about you, but I did my job. My conscience is clear."

"Yeah?"

"Spent the evening suckin' up to Gina Newman."

Lilly's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "Gina Newman? Oh, God."

"The one and only." He swirled his beer, then took a sip.

"Wow. You really took one for the team, Valens."

"Y'know, that's what I said. Least someone appreciates it."

She grinned. "Think we'll get a new fax machine out of the deal?"

Scotty polished off the rest of his beer and leaned down to set the empty bottle on the concrete next to his chair. "I…mighta mentioned we think ours is possessed."

Laughing, Lilly drained her own bottle and reached for another. "I should've schmoozed."

"'S'okay." He dug the opener out of his pocket and popped the top off her beer. "You had a date."

He held his breath, hoping the comment didn't remind her that she was sad, but she just smiled at him, those endless blue eyes sparking with mischief. "So that girl _you_ were dancing with was…?"

"Some lab tech. Frankie…somethin'." He took a long, appreciative sip of beer, that brief encounter with the brunette from the bar already seeming a lifetime ago.

"Rafferty?"

"That sounds right. You know her?"

Lilly shrugged. "She's cleaned up some old photos for us a couple times. I think she plays softball, too."

"Yeah, she does." He frowned over the rim of his beer bottle. "Hey, you remember last Saturday, right?"

A corner of her mouth quirked. "Your home run?"

"Yeah." He smiled, remembering, then eyed her quizzically. "You…happen to see if I touched first base?"

Lilly looked blank for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. You never miss a base."

"You got no idea, do you?"

"No, but I've got your back." Grinning, she lifted her beer. "Partners, right?"

"Partners." He clinked his bottle against hers, then drank, unable to remember the last time things had been so relaxed between them, so comfortable, so casual. He'd never in a million years have thought he'd be finishing the night on the roof of his apartment in a hoodie and a tux with a six-pack and a ballgown-clad Lilly Rush, especially not the way things had been lately. But he realized, as the warmth of her smile reached deep into his heart, he wouldn't have it any other way.

That surprised him a little.

"Ouch."

He looked over to find her wincing. "Everything all right?"

Lilly glanced up, lips curved in a sheepish smile. "Ever hear of a bobby pin headache?"

Scotty grinned. "Oh, yeah. Elisa had a bad one the night of our senior prom." He was surprised at how easily the name rolled off his tongue, and how little pain saying it brought.

It was probably the beer.

He glanced up to find his partner studying him with that _sussing-out-your-secrets_ look she got sometimes. He hated that look, because it was usually followed by a question he didn't want to answer.

"You were that pretty-boy quarterback king of the prom, weren't you?"

There was amusement in her voice, but also a hint of disdain; not so much that he felt she'd think less of him for it, but enough that he wasn't sure he wanted to admit to it.

He gazed down into the bottle of beer, swirling the clear brown liquid around in circles before answering. "Maybe."

She burst out laughing. "Oh my God, you_ were_."

Scotty had to smile. Lilly's laughter was so clear, so musical, and so goddamn rare that he'd savor it, even if it was at his expense. _Take one for the team, Valens. You been doin' it all night._

"Did you have a crown and a sash and all that?" she asked.

He turned to her, a touch exasperated. "So what if I did?"

Her laughter only increased.

"This does _not_ get out at work." He pointed his nearly-empty beer bottle at her in a gesture of mock severity.

Her eyes still dancing, Lilly pressed her lips together and pantomimed zipping them shut. "What happens on the rooftop stays on the rooftop."

"Exactly that." He took the final swig of beer from the bottle and dangled it between two fingers, gazing out at the city, quiet for a moment with his memories. That stupid crown that kept falling into his eyes. Elisa, with her pink flouncy dress and her bobby pin headache. Dancing with her, the future so bright he needed shades. No idea of the giants lurking in the shadows, waiting to devour everything he held dear.

"Least one of us had a good time at prom." The voice next to him snapped him back to the present, to blonde hair and a red dress and eyes that still twinkled in the moonlight.

"What happened?" he asked. "Your date get handsy? Drunk? Throw up in the middle of the dance floor?"

She made a face. "Try all three."

"Oh, man." Scotty winced in sympathy. "That's rough."

Lilly drained her beer to the dregs, then set it on the concrete. Leaning back, she reached up and started pulling bobby pins out of her hair. "Guess that's why I got all dolled up this evening," she said, absently stuffing a couple pins in the pocket of his coat. "Thought this was a chance to finally get that magical night."

"Least Saccardo didn't puke," he said with a hopeful grin.

She laughed again, much to his relief. "No. That he didn't." A thick lock of moonlit hair tumbled uncertainly from where it had been pinned in place. "I'm wonderin' about Miller, though…did I see her dancing on the _table_?"

Scotty nodded and polished off the rest of his beer. "You missed quite a show."

"We worried?"

"Nah. Nicky took her home."

Lilly looked surprised for a second, but that surprise changed to a grimace as she yanked another bobby pin, along with a few strands of hair, from her head _"Ow__. _Dammit." She glared at the offending sliver of metal for a moment before jamming it into his coat pocket. "So much for magic."

His heart squeezed with sympathy as he looked over at her. "I'm sorry, Lil."

"Oh, don't look so guilty." Another bobby pin free, another tendril of hair tumbling down over the back of her neck. "You're the only reason I've got a smile on my face right now."

Scotty was thoroughly unprepared for the way her words shot straight to the deepest part of him, filling the center of his heart with a tender, yet triumphant, ache. All he'd ever wanted to do was protect her from pain, and if he was actually doing that, even in this small way, then it made the whole goddamn evening worth it.

She swore again, both hands skirmishing at the back of her head, her face contorted in irritation and pain. "I don't even know how many of these damn things I've got in here."

He was already half out of his seat. "Need a hand?"

"You mind?" She looked surprised.

"Nah." His feet crunching across the concrete, he closed the short distance between them and took his spot at his partner's back. After a moment's hesitation,he plunged his fingers into the maelstrom of curls and pins and styling products. She tried to help; her hands brushed against his as they worked in tandem.

"I think if you just…" she inched her fingers to the left. His followed.

"Right here?"

"No, that's a different one…"

"Jeez, Lil. How many of them _are _there?"

"No idea."

"Little more to the left, I think," she said.

He wiggled the pin, and it started to come loose. "That it?"

"_Oh. _Yeah. Right there."

Bracing his left hand gently against the top of Lilly's head, he wiggled a seemingly infinite number of bobby pins free with his right, one by one, dropping them into her outstretched palm. As he worked, her hair tumbled over his hands; the outside was a little stiff and crunchy from the hair spray, but the inside…_Dios mio_, the inside was like a silken waterfall over his fingers, spilling free from its metal-and-aerosol-imposed cocoon.

He couldn't remember ever touching Lilly's hair before. Not really. Not like this. He couldn't have, because he would have remembered how soft it was.

She let out a sigh then, a delicious sigh of contentment that did strange things to his insides. He stepped back, removing reluctant fingers from her mass of half-formed curls, just as she reached up, massaged her scalp for a moment, then tousled her blonde mane, completing its escape from the elaborate hairstyle. _"Mmm__mm_. Oh, Scotty, thank you. I think I may live."

He stood there a bit awkwardly for a moment, then remembered he had a chair. His own chair. Over there. He should go back and sit in it.

"No problem." His voice sounded thick and croaky.

_Maybe problem._

No. No, there wasn't a problem. It was the beer, he was sure. He'd decided the evening warranted something better than the cheap crap he usually drank, so he'd opted instead for a local craft beer Vera had been raving about. He glanced down at the unfamiliar label, trying to determine whether it was stronger than normal beer. He'd had a pretty steady stream of scotch at the gala, too, the gala that suddenly seemed like it happened decades ago. Mixing booze and beer was a bad idea; at least, it had been the times he'd tried it. So that's what this was. Had to be.

A soft chuckle next to him, and he glanced up to find Lilly shaking out her hair again with a self-deprecating grin. "I must look ridiculous."

He glanced down at her, snuggled deep into his overcoat, crimson pumps and flashes of skirt peeping out from beneath the Eagles blanket he'd yanked off his sofa, his gray woolen scarf looped lazily around her neck, and her hair a wild tumble around her shoulders.

"Nah, Lil…you look beautiful."

He was startled by how much he meant that.

She smiled. "Thanks, Scotty."

"Yeah." He tore his attention away from that smile, back to the cityscape, the twinkling lights and the hypnotic swish of traffic below.

It was the alcohol. Had to be.

He was almost positive.


	7. No Place I'd Rather Be

**A/N: **Welcome aboard, new followers! I'm happy to have you all along for the ride. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

**No Place I'd Rather Be**

_It's easy being with you, sacred simplicity  
>As long as we're together, there's no place I'd rather be<em>

Three A. M.

That's how late it was when Lilly finally creaked open that blue front door she'd always loved and dropped her keys onto the little table just inside. One, two, three tries it had taken her to get the keys into the lock; not because she was drunk, but because she was so goddamn tired.

They'd stayed on Scotty's rooftop, talking about everything and nothing, until their beer supply ran out and neither of them could feel their extremities. He'd offered to take her home then, but the insistent growling of her stomach led her to comment that she was starving.

"Thank God," he'd said, then flashed that boyish grin in response to her startled expression. "Me, too."

So instead of taking her home, he'd fired up the Mustang and let its pistons sing, driving down the expressway at a speed that probably would've rattled her had she been entirely sober. Then, with exaggerated formality, he'd escorted her through the double glass doors of an all-night diner, where they shared hoagies and a plate of cheese fries, chuckling at the looks they got from truckers and various other itinerant characters who doubtless had never seen anyone visiting that establishment in formalwear.

It was a little bit how she'd always imagined prom night.

Now, having trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, Lilly kicked off her shoes, sank down onto the edge of the bed, and massaged her aching feet. She'd been dreading, maybe even avoiding, this return to her apartment. She hadn't been planning to come back at all tonight, and if she had, it sure as hell wouldn't have been alone. But, as Saccardo had said, it was the nature of the beast. The cop in her understood that.

The woman in her was just lonely.

Well. No. Not lonely. Scotty had made sure of that. It seemed from the moment he'd found her on the balcony, he'd made it his personal mission to make sure her evening didn't end in tears. And those hours they'd spent together tonight, talking, laughing, reconnecting…she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt that at ease in anyone's company, let alone his.

That, she supposed, was its own sort of magic.

Equally magical was the knowledge, as she extricated herself from the red ballgown, tossed it over a chair, and sank gratefully into bed, that she was just too damn tired to be sad about Saccardo leaving tonight. She was sure she'd feel it at some point. But not tonight. That was what mattered.

The last conscious thought that floated through Lilly's exhaustion-fuzzed brain before a merciful sleep claimed her was that she still needed to give Scotty back his jacket.

* * *

><p>Scotty's first instinct, upon being jerked from a too-short slumber by the telltale trill of his phone, was to grab for it and fling it across the room.<p>

Despite his exhaustion, it had taken him forever to fall asleep. His overloaded brain crackled with energy, flashing picture after picture of the evening's events. It was like mental channel-surfing. Only some actual channel-surfing—and some additional drinking—quieted his obnoxious thoughts enough for him to get some shuteye. And now here was his damn phone, ringing at the ungodly hour of…

11:30?

Okay, fine. Maybe he wouldn't throw it.

It was, as he suspected, the boss. There'd been a new development in the case, Stillman said, and with the department breathing down his neck about the closure rate, he had to call them in, much as he hated to do so.

So an hour later, Scotty was at his desk. A little hung over, a lot tired…but also at least moderately relieved. Because here at work Lilly wouldn't be wearing that red dress. She wouldn't be laughing and sighing and needing him to take bobby pins out of her hair. No, she'd be back to being Normal Lilly, with her buttoned-up appearance and crisp, no-nonsense demeanor, and these strange things that had been stirring inside him since last night would subside.

But what he hoped wouldn't subside, as he slipped off his sunglasses and winced against the fluorescent lights of the squad room, was what seemed like a return to the comfortable, easy friendship they'd enjoyed until Saccardo butted into their lives. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until last night, up on the roof.

He supposed that was part of why he'd kept her out until three A.M.

To Scotty's surprise, most of his colleagues had already arrived. Vera, trudging in from the kitchen, was even more haggard and rumpled-looking than usual. Kat was at her desk, scowling behind a pair of sunglasses so large it looked like she was trying to impersonate one of the Kardashians. Jeffries, meanwhile, filled out paperwork, looking like he was about to burst into peals of laughter at the both of them.

"Mornin', all," Scotty managed. It was well past noon by this point, but the way he felt, and the way the others looked? It still definitely qualified as 'morning.'

Vera responded without words, just a gravellier-than-usual grunt.

"Gonna tell you the same thing I told the other two," Kat said, each word spoken slowly and with great effort. "Do not touch me. Do not talk to me. Do not even _look _at me. And for God's sake, Scotty, pick _up _your chair." Scotty paused, his hand on the back of his chair, feeling the heat of her glare even through her enormous shades. "Do not just scrape it across the floor. Do. _Not. _Because if you do, it will make fireworks go off in my head, and I will have to murder you."

Without looking at, talking to, or touching Kat, Vera placed a paper-wrapped cheesesteak from Geno's onto the desk in front of her, along with a bottle of water. Kat glanced up at Vera as she started to unwrap her cheesesteak, without words, but also without the venom Scotty was expecting from her. Vera nodded, grinned slightly, then plopped down at his desk and immediately tucked into an identical sandwich.

More power to them if they could eat, but the way Scotty's stomach recoiled at the normally mouthwatering aroma of seasoned meat and grilled veggies told him, in no uncertain terms, that food was not on his agenda anytime soon. His appetite was for two things and two things only: aspirin and coffee. He quickly retrieved the aspirin from his desk drawer, tossed a couple of the little white caplets down his throat, then rose from his seat—quietly—and headed for the kitchen to get some coffee.

And there was Lilly, pouring coffee into a deep blue mug. She looked up as he entered and flashed him a disarming smile.

"Morning, Scotty." She handed him the cup she'd just poured, then reached up onto the shelf for another.

"Mornin'." Taking a grateful sip of the bitter brew, he studied her through the steam as she poured her own cup. As expected, she was wearing normal work clothes. Her hair was pulled back into the ponytail she'd been sporting the last few weeks. Her makeup was, he was guessing, the same shades and amount she normally wore, though he couldn't remember ever paying attention to that sort of thing before. The only remaining trace of last night's glamour was the delicate diamond pendant, dangling discreetly between the top buttons of her crisp, pale blue blouse.

Lowering the mug, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It was just Normal Lilly. Normal Lilly didn't make his heart race or his stomach do somersaults. Normal Lilly didn't capture his attention from across the room and hold onto it at the expense of all else. Normal Lilly didn't make him want to feel that silky blonde hair falling down over his fingers again. Everything was going to be fine.

She arched a bemused brow as she turned and leaned against the counter, the coffee mug halfway to her lips. "You okay this morning?"

"Lot better than those two out there," he joked, nodding out toward the squad room, where Kat was devouring her cheesesteak and Vera was bumming a couple Advil off Jeffries. "You?"

She gave a slight shrug and a tiny, secret smile. "Little tired, I guess."

"Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize. In fact…" Lowering her gaze, she tucked a stray tendril of hair behind one ear. "I just wanted to say, y'know…thanks. For last night."

She looked up at him then, her eyes sparkling, her smile surprisingly vulnerable, and his heart gave a mighty thump. Because it was daylight now, and she was sober, and she wasn't sad about being ditched in the middle of the dance floor…and she was still letting him in. She'd lowered her defenses, let her guard down, and given him a glimpse straight into her heart.

That wasn't Normal Lilly. Not at all. And things weren' t the same between them. Not anymore.

They were better.

"Anytime, Lil. You know that." His grin turned a touch mischievous as they headed out into the squad room, coffees in hand. "Even at three A.M."

"Three A.M.?" Vera echoed.

"Please." Kat's head fell into her hands, her already-soft words muffled by the ropelike curtain of her hair. "Not so loud."

"Seem to recall sayin' somethin' like that to you last night," Vera said around a mouthful of cheesesteak.

"Surprised either of you remember anything from last night," Jeffries supplied, drawing dark glares from both his colleagues.

"You're enjoyin' this, aren't you, Will?" Scotty pulled his chair out as quietly as he could and gingerly lowered himself into it.

Will's pen danced across his paperwork. "That's what happens when you're the only one smart enough to stay sober."

"Oh, bite me," Vera muttered.

"Afternoon, everyone." Even Stillman looked a little more subdued than usual as he emerged from his office. "Sorry again to call you in on a Sunday, especially given the late night it looks like some of you had."

Scotty glanced toward Kat, who seemed to be ignoring the goings-on in favor of munching her way through her sandwich.

"Whatcha got for us, Boss?" Lilly asked.

"Tracked down Ellie King's fiancé, James Fleming. He owns a chain of car dealerships in the Baltimore area, but he's in town today."

"What's the occasion?" Jeffries asked.

"The Philly Classic and Custom Car Expo," Stillman replied. "Special emphasis on Flemings this year; he's here to represent the company."

Scotty nearly choked on his mouthful of coffee. "Classic and Custom? I've been tryin' to get tickets to that thing for weeks!"

Stillman grinned. "Well, that badge of yours is all the ticket you need today, Scotty."

His irritation at having to come in on a Sunday suddenly a distant memory, Scotty drained the rest of his coffee in a single gulp and glanced toward Lilly. "Best car show in Philly; wanna come with?"

"Sure," she said, with a bemused grin.

"Will, you and Nicky see if they've gotten any handwriting matches off that threat letter yet," Stillman instructed. "And Miller?"

Scotty glanced over to catch her wincing behind her enormous shades. "Yeah, Boss?"

"I'm sure you have some paperwork to catch up on. I'll give you the conference room." He paused. "Should be nice and quiet."

A rueful smile quirked her lips. "Thanks, Boss."

Assignments distributed, everyone rose from their chairs at once, the chorus of scraping setting even Scotty's teeth on edge.

"God_dammit_." Kat grabbed at her head again. "I swear to God as soon as I get rid of this hangover, I'm gonna kick all your asses."

Once again, without speaking to, touching, or looking at her, Vera quietly placed a couple of Advil on her desk.

* * *

><p>As soon as Lilly entered the Pennsylvania Convention Center, the Philly Classic and Custom Car Expo assaulted all her senses simultaneously. The driving beat of some sixties rock song she couldn't immediately place. The burnt smell of tires and exhaust. A stage full of dancers in vintage clothing, whirling and twirling in the bright lights.<p>

And _cars._ An ocean of them, seemingly every make, model, and color imaginable, as far as the eye could see. Some looked as though they'd just rolled off the assembly line, while others were so heavily and creatively customized as to stretch the bounds of credibility.

Lilly blinked and waited for her senses to adjust. She was definitely out of her element here, but one look at her partner told her he was definitely not. His dimples deepened with each passing second; eager eyes darted to and fro, trying to take everything in all at once. He looked simultaneously enchanted and overwhelmed, like a five-year-old standing at the entrance to Disney World.

"Damn," he muttered appreciatively. "Sure am glad I didn't call in sick today."

After a brief search, they located James Fleming, who but for the silver in his hair seemed to have scarcely changed since 1962. He was standing next to a cobalt blue sedan polished to mirror-like sheen, engaged in animated conversation with a glut of other suit-clad gentlemen.

As the detectives approached, Fleming flashed a toothpaste-commercial smile. "If you're looking to register for the auction of the Thunderhawk, the table is just inside the east entrance. And…" he gave them both a cool appraisal. "Qualified buyers only."

"Ain't here to bid on a car, James." There was more than a hint of reluctance in Scotty's voice as he pulled his badge from his belt.

"Detectives Rush and Valens, Philly Homicide," Lilly flashed her own badge.

"Homicide?" Fleming gave a nervous laugh, then turned his unnaturally-white smile to the other men nearby. "Would you excuse us for a moment? I'm sure this is just someone's idea of a joke."

As the other men shuffled off, Fleming's plastic persona crumbled. "All right, what the hell is this about? I haven't lived in Philly for over thirty years."

Lilly tilted her head at his sudden defensiveness. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about Ellie King."

Fleming looked momentarily stunned, but then his chiseled features took on a look of exasperation. "Oh, for the love of God, not this again. Look, I told the cops back then that—wait." He blinked. "Homicide?"

Scotty gave a brief nod. "That's right."

Silvery brows knit. "So she's dead? You found her…her body?"

"Not exactly," Lilly replied, as coolly as possible, while Scotty quickly pulled copies of the scene photos from the black leather folder he carried with him.

"We found a suitcase with Ellie's name on it," he said. "You recognize any of this stuff?"

Fleming took the photos from Scotty's outstretched hand and flipped through them, his defensiveness melting away with the years. "Oh, sure…that dress was her favorite."

"The books have any significance to you?" Lilly handed him a photo of the two yellowed paperbacks found in the suitcase.

Fleming glanced at them with a quiet chuckle. "Oh, she was always reading something. I told her she could read as much as she liked as long as she had dinner on the table when I walked through the door." His smile was met with stony silence from the detectives. "Well…different times, I guess." He handed the photos back. "Where'd you find the suitcase?"

"An old apartment in Kensington," Lilly replied.

"Kensington? What the hell would she be doing there?"

"We're…still workin' on that." Scotty pulled out a clear plastic sleeve containing a copy of the letter found in the suitcase. "You recognize this?"

Fleming peered through his bifocals at the faded text. "'By my hand you shall meet your end?'" He raised a horrified expression. "Is this a threat?"

Lilly noted his reaction, which seemed like one of genuine surprise. "Looks that way."

"My God." Fleming adjusted his glasses. "Who could've written something like that?"

"We were hopin' you could shed some light on that," Scotty replied.

"Do you recognize the handwriting?" Lilly asked.

Fleming barely even looked at the letter before handing it back as though it were a used tissue. "I can tell you for damn sure it's not mine, if that's what you're wondering."

Lilly met his disgusted glare with a chilly one of her own. "We'll need a sample all the same."

With a slight roll of his eyes, Fleming withdrew a slender silver pen from his breast pocket. "Fine. I have nothing to hide."

He quickly scrawled a few sentences onto a crisp sheet of lined paper in Lilly's notebook, then clicked the pen shut and slipped it back into his pocket. "Will there be anything else?" he asked, in a tone that suggested there'd better not be.

Lilly suppressed a smile. They'd gotten what they needed from this arrogant weasel. No need to press further.

"Call us if you think of anything else that may be of help." She extended a card, which he refused to take. Instead, he produced one of his own.

"How about you call me when you finally figure out what happened to Ellie?"

"Just take the card, pal." Removing the card from Lilly's outstretched hand, Scotty slipped it in just behind the stunned Fleming's pocket square, then gave it a gentle pat. "We'll be in touch."

Lilly waited to let the smile overspread her face until her back was safely turned and she and Scotty had put a few paces between themselves and their suspect. "Nice move."

"You like that, huh?" He tossed her a lopsided grin. "So what's your read on that guy?"

"Don't know yet. Seemed a lot more concerned about his innocence than finding the truth. That always raises a red flag."

"Think he's good for it?"

"Not sure. I got a feelin' we'll be talkin' with him again, though." They stopped, and she glanced around the room, then grinned at him. "Okay, we did what we came for. Go nuts." She gestured toward the rows upon rows of gleaming show vehicles.

"You sure you wanna open that can, Lil?" Cautiously optimistic eyes darted around the show floor. "We…might be here a while."

Lilly couldn't help but smile. After how he'd been so wonderful to her last night, she'd be hard-pressed to deny him anything. And the adorable eagerness that was already bursting through the thin veneer of his professionalism made her want to do whatever she could to give him as much happiness as he'd given her.

"If I get bored, I'll take the car back to Headquarters and you can find your own way home."

The grin with which he responded made her heart do a little flip. "You got it." He quickly shed his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves, his eager gaze flitting around the room once more.

Lilly chuckled. "Do you even know where you wanna start?"

"Sure." His eyes lit on a nearby vendor's station. "Right here. I'm starved." He fished his money clip out of his pocket. "Get you anything?"

Lilly was already reaching for her own wallet. "Oh, you don't need to do that."

"Maybe not. But I want to."

The warmth from last night flickered in his dark eyes and found its way to her heart, causing her to smile up at him and slip her wallet back into her pocket. "Okay. Thanks."

After buying them each a hot dog and a soda, Scotty led Lilly down the rows of cars, chattering excitedly about the horsepower of one or the torque of another. Occasionally he'd stop to talk with an owner, as he was doing now, and Lilly would hang back and just watch. Just as when he spoke Spanish in an interview, she could pick out a word here and there, but mostly it was just a rippling brook of flowing, musical speech.

She knew from the interested looks her partner had gotten over the years that many women considered him attractive, though she'd never let herself go there. But now, seeing him in his element with that easy, dimpled smile, the excitement glittering in his endless eyes, the animated motions of his hands as he talked about one of his favorite subjects…she could understand their attraction. There was definitely something magnetic about him.

Scotty finished his latest conversation, and they started to meander down the next aisle.

"You ain't bored yet?" he remarked with some surprise.

"Nope. Not yet." She shook her head and smiled, but he was already predictably distracted by the next car down the line.

"Wow. Now this? This has dream car potential." They'd stopped in front of a cherry-red convertible, manned by a proud, yet protective-looking, middle-aged guy with a Red Sox ballcap and a neatly trimmed beard. In seconds, he and Scotty were old friends, engaged in rapid-fire Car Geek speak.

Well, she had to hand it to her partner; the car—a 1968 Fleming Juggernaut, according the little placard in the windshield—was indeed a beauty. Lilly's eyes followed the sleek lines and smooth curves, a deceptively calm exterior for what she knew had to be quite the firecracker beneath the hood. Every inch was a silent testimony to expert craftsmanship and meticulous restoration. Hell, even the hood ornament was gorgeous. Shiny chrome, with a woman's face tilted to the sky, so detailed Lilly could almost see the woman's hair ruffling in the wind as the car sped down the freeway.

Wait a minute. There was something familiar about that hood ornament.

Her heart racing, Lilly slid the file out of her notebook and flipped through the pictures until she found what she was looking for: the picture of Ellie and James, standing next to Ellie's car…a car with an identical hood ornament.

Quickly, she slid the photo back into the file and flashed her winningest smile at the car's owner. "Pardon me for butting in, but I have to tell you I just _love_ this hood ornament."

She suppressed a chuckle at the dumbfounded look on Scotty's face.

"Part of the customization." The owner bounced eagerly on the balls of his feet. "Betty Sue here was missing her original hood ornament when I started the restoration process. This one here's from '62, so it's not exactly historically accurate, but…what can I say?" He smiled broadly. "I think it suits her."

"Oh, I think it captures Betty Sue's personality perfectly." Once again, she reveled in her partner's astonishment. Taking advantage of his silence, she once again smiled at the car owner. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Sure, sure." The bearded owner turned his attention to a couple of older men who'd wandered up , presumably to salivate over the car, and Lilly turned that winning smile on Scotty, who was studying her with furrowed brow and a tentative grin.

"Didn't know you had a thing for hood ornaments, Lil."

"I don't." She opened her notebook, anticipation zinging through her veins. "But James Fleming did." She moved the photo so Scotty could see it. "See anything familiar?"

"I'll be damned." Scotty slid the photo out of the file and brought it in for a closer look. His eyes darted from the photo to Betty Sue and back again before locking with Lilly's. "That's Ellie's hood ornament."

They stared at one another, each knowing what the other was thinking.

This could be the break they needed.


	8. Tell Me

**A/N: **Merry Christmas to those of you who are celebrating it! I hope you all have a wonderful time surrounded by your favorite foods and your favorite people.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

**Tell Me**

"Sir, I'll have to ask you to please not touch the car."

Scotty had to chuckle at Gil McGreavy's fluttery nervousness around his precious Betty Sue, especially since this time, Scotty wasn't the target. That honor belonged to none other than James Fleming, who'd only barely touched the hood ornament when Gil admonished him.

"_Sir_," Gil repeated. "The car."

"Oh, don't worry," replied Fleming, in the tone of voice of one who was only devoting a few atoms of brain matter to the conversation at hand. "She's one of mine."

"One of yours?" Gil drew himself to his full, less-than-impressive height. "Sir, I'll thank you to—"

"Hey. Relax." Fleming finally deigned to enter the universe beyond the sleek crimson hood of Gil's Juggernaut and extended a hand to the flustered owner. "James Fleming."

Gil's bushy white brows shot up over the rims of his glasses. "Fleming? As in…?"

"As in my grandfather founded Fleming Motors, and my father designed that car you're so protective of." Fleming's blue eyes crinkled at the corners at the slackening in Gil's jaw. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"You recognize this hood ornament, James?" Lilly asked.

"Of course, Detective." Fleming smiled. "I'd know it anywhere."

"_Detective_?" Gil's round eyes bounced from Fleming to Scotty to Lilly and back again. "What am I missing?"

Lilly pulled her badge from her hip pocket. "Detectives Rush and Valens, Philly Homicide."

"We're lookin' into the possible murder of this girl. Ellie King. 1962." Scotty extended the photo of Ellie for Gil to examine.

"Hey, I was five years old in 1962." Gil raised his hands in self-defense. "I—I've never seen that girl before in my life."

"Hey, man, it's okay. You're not in any trouble." Scotty flashed a reassuring smile, and Gil seemed to relax, at least to a small degree. "We know you had nothin' to do with it. It's just that this hood ornament looks exactly like the one on Ellie's '62 Eagle."

Brow furrowed, Gil studied the photo Scotty held out to him. "Well, I know it's rare, but there's still a…one in eight hundred forty-six chance that this is the same exact one, right, Mr. Fleming?"

Looking impressed, Fleming nodded. "This hood ornament was part of the redesign when we rolled out the special-edition '62 Eagles." His voice grew quiet and faraway. "It was inspired by Ellie."

Scotty glanced down at the winsome blonde in the photograph, then back up at the winged female figurine adorning Gil's hood. Sure enough, there was a striking resemblance.

"Any way to know if this one's hers?" Scotty slipped Ellie's photo back into the file.

"Absolutely. For Ellie, we did something special." Turning toward the car, Fleming grasped the base of the hood ornament and gently wiggled it loose.

Gil gasped. "Careful!"

Fleming responded with a withering glance as the hood ornament popped free and he bent down to take a peek. After a long moment of silence, he let out a breath. "I'll be damned."

"That Ellie's?" Scotty asked, knowing from the man's reaction what the answer would be.

Fleming nodded, then stepped back so the detectives could take a look. Leaning over the silvery winged figure, Scotty saw the words "Mrs. James" engraved across the bottom in flowing script.

"Ellie thought it was odd that she was about to become 'Mrs. James Fleming' rather than 'Mrs. Ellie Fleming," the older man explained. "She always said she'd happily take my last name, but she'd let me keep my first. That was an ongoing joke between us; I used to call her Mrs. James, and she'd call me Mr. Ellie." With a quiet chuckle, Fleming ran a fingertip over the ridges of the hood ornament, then gently wedged it back into place. "It's as beautiful as the day it was made."

"Thanks," Gil chirped, his mood no doubt lightened by the fact that, for the moment anyway, everyone had stopped trying to handle Betty Sue.

With a slight grin, Scotty glanced toward his partner, only to find her eyes narrowed in concentration. "So you're here all the way from Baltimore, and this hood ornament from Ellie's car is here, too? That's a funny coincidence."

Fleming raised slender hands in self-defense. "Detectives, I swear to God I haven't seen this thing in forty-five years." He frowned over at Gil. "How'd you come to have it?"

"Bought it up at Al's Obsolete Auto Parts," Gil replied. "It's a little place in Allentown; unbelievable selection."

"Yeah, I've been there," Scotty added, then grinned over at Lilly. "Al's an encyclopedia. Knows everything there is to know about cars."

Lilly's lips flickered in a mischievous smile. "Even more than you?"

Scotty was reluctant to admit it, but yes. Sadly, it was true.

Her eyes twinkled ever-so-slightly before returning her attention to Gil, pen poised over her notebook. "Any idea when you bought it?"

Gil removed his cap and ran a hand over his thinning white hair. "Oh, jeez…probably about ten years, give or take?"

Scotty stifled a sigh. 'Give or take' wasn't much to go on, but it was at least a start. And that was more than they'd had when they walked in. Even though he'd long ago outgrown his wish to be out on the line, sprinting down sidewalks and breaking down doors his whole shift, the snail's pace of some of their investigations still got to him sometimes.

He glanced up at his partner to find her looking back at him, blue eyes shimmering with understanding. It was as though she'd just read his thoughts.

"Al open on Sundays?" she asked.

"Think so, yeah." Pulling his phone from his pocket, Scotty turned toward Gil. "You mind if we take some pictures of the hood ornament? Talk to Al, see if he remembers it?"

Gill nodded. "Sure. Sure. Just…" he winced as Scotty approached the car. "Be careful."

Scotty grinned. "Don't worry, man. I got your back."

* * *

><p>With a sigh, Lilly reached up and absently rubbed the back of her neck, the dusty purchase records from Al's Obsolete Auto Parts taunting her from her desk. In the soft golden light from her desk lamp, the yellowed slips of paper were almost starting to resemble the proverbial haystack. That needle was in there somewhere, and despite the fatigue crowding her consciousness and the dull throbbing in her head, she was determined to find it.<p>

She and Scotty had driven up to Allentown that afternoon to talk to Al, who remembered the hood ornament, but not the person attached to it. They were welcome to look through his records, he'd told them, waving a meaty hand at a filing cabinet with boxes stacked next to it, but it might take a while, because he did everything by hand. Didn't trust computers.

With his permission, they'd brought the relevant records back to Philly, where, over hastily-eaten takeout Chinese, they'd started the arduous process of digging through the paperwork. She had to hand it to her partner; he'd made a couple wisecracks about the project they had in front of them, but no true complaints.

"Well, that's 1996," Scotty said from behind the large, water-stained cardboard box standing guard on his desk. Tossing the last of the files into the box, he lidded it and slid it to the floor. "Think I oughta go '95 or '99?"

Lilly flashed a sympathetic smile. "Which year would you rather relive?"

A corner of his mouth quirked. "'95 it is." Bending down, he grabbed the box and hoisted it up onto the surface of his desk.

"I'll go make us some coffee." Lilly rose from her chair and headed for the kitchen.

Her mind still turning over the pieces of the puzzle, she went through the familiar motions of scooping the coffee into the basket, pouring in the water, and pushing the button. The ancient machine spluttered and hissed to life, soon filling the small room with the rich, roasted aroma of the detectives' lifeblood.

That fragrance alone was enough to perk her up a bit, and she reached up to grab a pair of mugs from the shelf. As she slid her favorite deep blue mug from its wooden resting place, a piece of white typing paper fell onto the counter; it had apparently been wedged beneath the mug.

Frowning, Lilly unfolded it.

_Hey, Cagney-_

_You seemed to like the idea of me leaving you secret letters, so here you go. Hope this finds you well._

_-Serpico_

Everything about that note made her smile, from Saccardo's bold scrawl to the fact that he'd thought ahead, that he'd been creative enough to leave a little reminder of himself for her in his absence. She gazed down at the note for a moment, toying absently with her necklace. It was things like this that made her not miss him as much as she'd feared she would.

"What, Saccardo's leavin' you notes now?"

Her partner's voice made her jump slightly; Lilly hadn't even been aware that he'd come into the kitchen.

Quickly, she re-folded the note. "Yeah. So what?"

"Kinda sweet." Scotty reached for the pair of mugs and started to fill them with coffee. "If you're in the sixth grade."

Irritation flared. She'd thought last night on the roof meant they were past all this pettiness, but apparently they weren't. Slamming the note down on the counter, she turned to face him. "What is your problem?"

Scotty glanced up from where he was pouring creamer into his coffee. "I don't got a problem."

"So you crappin' all over every nice thing Eddie does for me is, what, just for fun?" She gave a short, bitter bark of laughter. "You got somethin' you wanna say to me about him, just say it."

With infuriating calmness, Scotty tossed the empty vial of creamer into a nearby trash can and grabbed a stirrer. "Look, Lil. I don't got anything personal against the guy. I barely even know him."

"Then why the hell can't you just be happy for me?"

"Because I don't like seein' you get hurt."

"So, what, you're just gonna act like a pouty twelve-year-old? Dammit, Scotty, I'm an adult. I don't need you to protect me from anything. My choices are mine." She laced her arms tightly across her chest and added, almost as an afterthought, "Besides. Eddie didn't hurt me."

"No?" Scotty's brows arched. "Then what was that Saturday night out on the balcony at the Blue Ball?"

Even his use of the irreverent nickname failed to bring a smile. "I was sad, Scotty. Not hurt. I was sad because he had to go under, and I don't know when I'll see him again. That's it. That's all it was."

"Okay," he replied, in that skeptical way she thought she'd cornered the market on.

"You know different?" She met his gaze. Challenging him.

The spark in his eyes told her he was more than game. "He like Narcotics? Bein' undercover all the time?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"So this is what your relationship's gonna look like, then? He's in, then he's out, and you got no idea when you're gonna see him again, or what he's doin' when he's gone, or who he's with…the kinda compromises he's makin'…"

Lilly studied her partner through the angry slits of her eyes. "Just what are you insinuating?"

He held up a hand. "Nothin'. It's just that…I know firsthand how blurry the lines can get when you're in deep like that. You—you can't be who you really are. That's the whole point. And—and bein' with someone who's only givin' you part of his time, part of who he is…" Scotty looked up at her, his gaze sharp as a sword. "Y'know, maybe that's enough for you. Maybe that's all you want. But…" he paused, weighing his words, seemingly trying to decide whether or not to let them out. Finally, he sighed and turned back to his coffee mug. "It ain't what you deserve."

She caught her breath and held it. "What do you mean?"

"Ever since I've known you, I've stood by and watched the people you care about turn their backs on you and walk away, one by one." Scotty gave a nervous laugh. "Guess that's part of why I'm so damn…stubborn. 'Cause I don't wanna do that to you, too."

She blinked up at him, her anger melting away in the warmth of his words. He looked like he was bracing himself for a verbal barrage, one that, truth be told, she'd probably normally give anyone who managed to unwrap the bandages and expose her wounds. But he wasn't doing it to gawk, like some had, or to use it against her, like some others. He was looking at it as a trauma surgeon would look at a bullet wound: to assess the damage and then set about trying to heal it.

Scotty seemed to take her silence as leave to continue, because he abandoned his coffee and took a couple steps toward her. "Look, Lil. I want you to find someone you love. Not just someone you like, or have fun with…but someone you _love. _Someone who you won't _let _walk away from you, because you just…_can't_. And someone who loves you, like you deserve to be loved."

She stood there, wide-eyed, simultaneously floored and touched by his words.

"And that includes bein' there for you, Lil. Not just on a part-time basis, but…y'know, _there. _In your life." He took another step toward her, his eyes coffee-rich and shimmering with emotion. "You deserve someone who's so…so damn crazy about you that…" he chuckled. "…that he can't even imagine bein' away from you for a day. An hour. Let alone weeks. Months. Someone who—who can't _breathe _without you."

Stunned into momentary silence, Lilly just stared up at him. No one had ever dared to say something like that to her before. No one had ever given her such a beautifully gentle ass-kicking in all her life. He had sliced through her defenses, found her deepest pain, and brought it out into the light, and yet he'd done it so sweetly, so tenderly, that she couldn't even be angry with him.

Unexpected light and laughter spilled into the kitchen just then, the former courtesy of a bank of bright fluorescents Lilly hadn't bothered to switch on when she went in to make the coffee. Blinking to adjust, she became suddenly and acutely aware of just how close she'd been standing to Scotty. He seemed to realize it, too, because he quickly took a giant step back, cleared his throat, and grabbed yet another coffee stirrer.

"Whoa," came the gravelly voice of Nick Vera, amid the sudden cessation of two pairs of footsteps. "Didn't think anyone would still be here at this hour."

"C'mon, Nick. You know me better than that." Lilly lifted her coffee mug to her lips, hoping her pounding heart and shaky limbs didn't come through in her voice. "We're still…tryin' to track down that hood ornament."

"What are you two doin' back here?" Scotty asked, tinkering with his coffee once more.

Nick and Kat exchanged a decidedly unusual glance. "Well, Miller forgot her, uh…"

"Coat," Kat filled in quickly. "I forgot my coat, and there's a cold front comin' through tonight, and I didn't wanna freeze my ass off takin' V to school tomorrow." Her eyes sparked with defensiveness, challenging Lilly to poke a hole in her story.

"Okay…"

"And she had a flat," Vera supplied, "so she called me, and I had to get my ass off the couch and come get her."

Scotty frowned at the pair. "So what are you, her driver now?"

Kat flung a triumphant glance at Vera, who muttered something Lilly couldn't quite catch, then turned to Scotty and shrugged. "Guess so," Nick said.

"Well, I got what I came for." Miller lifted her right arm slightly, which was indeed draped with her usual black overcoat. "So we're outie."

Scotty grinned. "Outie?"

Miller flashed her usual scathing glare. "Whatever, jackass. See you guys in the morning."

"Yeah," Vera echoed. "Later."

"Actually, I think I might head out, too. Those purchase records are makin' me cross-eyed, and I don't' think coffee's gonna help." Scotty tossed an apologetic glance toward Lilly. "You all right here?"

"Fine. Thanks, Scotty." She hoped that simple expression of gratitude conveyed just how much his words meant to her.

So much, in fact, that after all three of her colleagues had called their farewells and headed out of the office, she grabbed Saccardo's note and a cup of coffee and sat down at her desk, reading it and rereading it several times, turning its words over in her mind, scraping the pad of her thumb across the surface of her diamond pendant again and again. But as much as she tried to concentrate on him, the look in Scotty's eyes kept surfacing. His words kept echoing through her consciousness.

He'd said she deserved to find someone she loved. Someone who loved her in return.

Did Eddie…love her? She didn't know. He'd never said, and besides, it was way too soon for something like that. Did she love him? Again, she didn't know. And before tonight, before Scotty's beautiful words, she wouldn't have cared. She was happy, wasn't she?

Well, she was when Eddie was around. Which wasn't as much as she would've liked.

Dammit. As much as she didn't want to think about it, maybe Scotty was right.

Maybe she did deserve more.


	9. Stolen Dance

**A/N: **Happy New Year! Scotty and Lil wanted to take a bit of a break over the holidays, but Kat and Vera were happy to jump in and fill the void.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

**Stolen Dance**

With a sigh, Scotty closed the manila folder he'd been digging through and plopped it back into the box from Al's. He'd gone through all the purchase records from 1995, and the ones from '99, too, but there was no mention of that damned hood ornament anywhere.

"Ready for another one?" Lilly offered a sympathetic flash of blue eyes as she combed through a sheaf of pale yellow purchase slips.

"Yeah, just…gotta grab a refill first." Scotty grabbed his empty coffee mug and rose from his chair. "Get you anything?"

Lilly glanced into her own mug and then handed it to him with a smile. "Top me off?"

"You got it." His fingers brushed against hers as he took her mug. Whether she noticed or not, he couldn't tell. And why he noticed, why it sent electricity zooming all the way to his elbow, wasn't really something he wanted to think about.

All morning, he'd been trying to avoid looking across the desk at her. But all morning, his eyes had been staunchly ignoring his brain's directive, jumping again and again to admire porcelain skin, sapphire eyes, and that cornsilk blonde hair. It was pulled back in a ponytail, as usual, but that didn't stop him from wondering, for the thousandth time since Saturday night, if it was really as soft as he remembered.

There was no denying it. Ever since that night on the rooftop, things with Lil had been different. Warmer. More comfortable. Almost as though the wedge Saccardo had driven between them wasn't there. In fact, Scotty had almost forgotten the guy even existed until last night, when he walked into the kitchen for some coffee and saw Lilly with that note in her hand and a dreamy smile on her face.

It was a knee-jerk reaction, his return to the bush leagues. He hoped Lilly would brush off his comment, as she'd always done in the past, but no such luck. She'd whirled to face him, her eyes sparking with anger but begging for honesty, and he was forced to plumb the depths of that messy knot in the center of his chest, the one that grew tighter with every thought of Eddie Saccardo.

He'd told her the truth. Probably more of it than he would have if he'd had a chance to think it over. And whether it was what she wanted to hear or not, he could tell he'd gotten through to her. Made her think. Several times over the course of the morning, he'd noticed her toying with that diamond necklace, obviously deep in thought. Whether those thoughts were about the case or about his comments, he couldn't tell. Occasionally, though, her gaze would drift to him; her lips would reward him with a shy, secret smile. One that let him know their new closeness was still intact. That the progress they'd made the last two days was safe.

That had brought those strange stirrings he'd been feeling back with a vengeance, and he wished like hell they'd go away. He couldn't feel…that way…about her. Not about Lilly. She was his friend. His partner. The polar opposite of the type of woman he was normally interested in, and absolutely the last woman he should be.

But try telling that to his wandering eyes, which, even now, were fixed on her through the kitchen window as she pored through another pile of purchase slips.

Oh, hell. Maybe he was just lonely. It had been a while since he'd gone out with anyone, and the short-lived…whatever the hell that was with that pain-in-the-ass ADA didn't really count. So maybe that was it. Maybe he just needed to get out there and meet someone.

The coffee ready and doctored to his liking, he grabbed both his mug and Lilly's and returned with them to the squad room. He put Lilly's coffee directly on her desk—no sense risking another jolt from inadvertent contact—and managed to avoid looking at her as he resolutely dragged another box to his desk and popped the lid off. 2002 this time. Maybe that would be the lucky year.

He'd just taken the folder for January out of the box when he heard Vera say into the phone, "Excellent. Thank you," and then bang it down with a note of triumph. "You're welcome," he announced to the room at large.

"Welcome for what, Nick?" Lilly paused, the freshly refilled mug of coffee halfway to her lips.

"You all can stop diggin'." Vera looked like he was about to burst with pride.

"Thank God." Jeffries closed the file he'd been digging through and lifted his own coffee mug. "What'd you find?"

"This." Nick held up a yellow purchase slip. "Had a hunch about an unmarked folder at the bottom of the pile and decided to go through it, and bingo."

"I know you're gonna let this go to your head, but right now, I don't care." Kat shut the folder she'd been working on and leaned back in her chair with the look of someone who'd just been released from prison.

"According to the purchase record, Al bought the hood ornament at an estate sale for a William Stevenson in Jersey in April, 1998," Vera continued. "The estate sale company put me in touch with his son, Jeff, who remembers his old man just goin' to car auctions and buyin' up parts, even parts that didn't go with any of the cars he owned. Never did much with 'em, Jeff says, just likes to collect 'em."

"People actually do that?" Kat asked.

"Some," Scotty replied. Glancing up, he found Lilly grinning at him, and those damned feelings started fidgeting again.

"Anyway." Vera's excited tone jerked Scotty's attention back to the matter at hand. "I sent Jeff a picture of the hood ornament, and he remembers it. Says he and his dad were at a pawn shop a couple years before the old man kicked it, and they found it together. Says his dad got real excited; these things are kinda rare."

"Any chance he remembers which pawn shop?" Scotty asked.

"Ask and ye shall receive." Vera held up the piece of paper he'd just been scribbling on. "Big Ed's Big Pawn. Just across the river in Willingboro."

"Nice work, Nicky." Stillman, who'd just come out of his office, gave Vera a congratulatory nod. "Rush, why don't you and Will go follow that up?"

"You got it, Boss." Lilly reached across and took the piece of paper from Vera's outstretched hand.

"Anyone talked to the sister yet?" Stillman asked.

"Not yet, Boss." Kat said. "We've been playin' phone tag."

"Well, you and Nicky go see if you can arrange a face-to-face," Stillman replied. "She needs to know where we are on the investigation. And Scotty?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

Stillman grinned. "Load up these boxes and take 'em back to Allentown."

"It'll be my pleasure." Scotty slid the folder back into the box he'd just opened, put the lid back on, and gave it an affectionate pat. It was sixty miles to Allentown. Sixty miles of open road, peace and quiet…and no Lilly. Surely by the time he got up there and back he'd have his head on straight.

And if he didn't… well, maybe he'd give that lab tech a call. Frankie, or whatever her name was.

Because if this was what loneliness would do to him? He wanted no part of it.

* * *

><p>"Well, well." Vera slid behind the driver's seat, then glanced over at Kat and smiled as she fastened her seat belt. "Good morning, beautiful."<p>

"Cut the crap, Nick."

"C'mon. You know you like it when I call you that." He flashed her a grin, that grin he knew she couldn't resist. Sure enough, a moment later, her eyes were sparkling, and she was trying to suppress that full blown Kat Miller smile. Satisfied, Vera put the car in gear, content in the company of the woman next to him. He couldn't hope to understand her. But, to his surprise, he could make her happy. And that alone made him feel like the king of the world.

"So are we, uh…are we gonna talk about last night?" she asked.

Vera grinned. "What's to talk about? Seems like you had a pretty good time."

"Not _that." _She sounded like she was still trying not to smile._ "_I meant…before."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, somethin' was definitely goin' on between Rush and Valens."

Her head jerked toward him almost audibly.

"That wasn't it?" His grin widened for a moment, but faded when he saw the anxious look in her eyes.

"We almost got caught, Nick."

Hoping to reassure her, Vera said the first thing that came to mind. "No, we didn't."

Not surprisingly, this was less than helpful.

"Are you kidding me? I _forgot my coat? _Was that not the worst excuse you've ever heard?"

"Hey. Kat. Relax." He was grateful they'd just pulled up to a stoplight so he could focus his full attention on those delicious dark eyes. "Rush and Valens didn't even blink when they saw us this mornin'. They were too busy sneakin' looks at each other."

"Yeah?" She sounded desperate to believe him.

"Couldn't keep their eyes on their paperwork for more than a couple seconds at a whack." The light turned green, and Vera switched his attention back to the road. "Besides, last night when we walked in? Don't even wanna think about what mighta happened with those two if we hadn't. I'm tellin' you, something's goin' on with them."

"Well, Scotty's had a thing for Lil for ages—"

"Obviously."

"But I never thought he'd act on it. And I can't believe I _missed _it."

The right turn Vera was making offered him the opportunity to grin at her. "Maybe you were just…too distracted."

Kat rolled her eyes, but the fact that she remained silent told him she'd conceded the point. He resisted the urge to pump his fist in triumph.

"So my theory is…Rush and Valens were too busy with whatever's goin' on with them…" a jolt of adrenaline shot through him. "To worry about…whatever's goin' on with us."

Another stoplight gave him an opportunity to hazard a cautious glance. She was looking back at him with an apprehensive smile. "Do we…know what that is?" she asked.

"Not exactly. But I can tell you it's the best thing that's ever happened to me." He waited, holding his breath, as she processed that information.

"Well, y'know…me, too," she said. "One of 'em, anyway."

Vera let out the breath. "Then I guess we gotta start comin' up with some better excuses."

"Or, y'know…" she peeked at him in a decidedly flirtatious way. "Maybe not try to have a rendezvous at the office?"

Vera grinned and eased off the brakes. "Let's call that Plan B."

* * *

><p>Kat settled into a seat at Bridget Sorenson's dining room table, watching the older woman select a china teacup from a cabinet with a grace and elegance that belied her seventy years. The screech of the tea kettle died down to a half-hearted whisper as Bridget took it off the stove. "I was just about to have some tea; could I offer either of you a cup?"<p>

"Sure," Nick piped up to Kat's right, drawing her incredulous glance. The twinkle in his warm hazel eyes made it clear that he'd accepted the proffered beverage not because he actually wanted it, but because he knew it would get a reaction. Probably the exact reaction she was giving him, if his roguish smile was any indication. She shook her head and rolled her eyes slightly, drawing a laugh he quickly disguised as a cough.

"Detective Miller?" Bridget asked.

"Thank you, but no. I'm fine," Kat replied.

"I'm sorry I've been hard to reach." Bridget poured the steaming water into the delicate cups. "I've been visiting my daughter in San Francisco, and I must be the last person in the world without a cell phone."

Nick smiled and, a bit uncomfortably, accepted the cup and saucer Bridget was holding out to him. "Nah, my mom's still holdin' out, too."

With a smile, Bridget settled into a chair and appeared to steel herself. "So you've got a lead on Ellie? After all this time?"

Kat nodded, her heart going out to the older woman. "Our detectives found what we believe to be Ellie's suitcase last week in an apartment in Kensington." Kat slid a handful of photographs of the suitcase across the table and watched as Bridget's blue eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, my, yes, those are Ellie's things." Bridget flipped through the photos. "That's her favorite dress…and those shoes. My God, I loaned her those shoes." She pressed a fist to her lips in a fight for composure, and Kat closed her eyes for a moment. God, she hated this part.

"You, uh…have any idea about these books, Mrs. Sorenson?" Nick's voice was soft and full of compassion as he showed Bridget another photo.

She took it from his hand and considered it for a moment, then shook her head of still-auburn hair. "Ellie was always reading something. Mystery novels, mostly. She liked those the best." She handed the photo back to Nick, then turned her gaze to Kat. "You said her things were found in Kensington?"

Kat glanced over at Nick, who nodded. "Place has seen better days."

"Can you think of any reason why Ellie might have been in Kensington?" Kat asked.

"No." Bridget carefully removed the teabag from her cup and nestled it onto the saucer. "No, I don't believe she had any connections there."

Vera pulled another photo from the file. "Do you remember the car the Flemings gave Ellie when she and James got engaged?"

"How could I forget?" Bridget chuckled. "That car was her pride and joy."

"Do you remember this hood ornament?" Vera asked. "Couple of our guys came across it at a classic car expo yesterday."

Bridget glanced down at the photo, blinking in disbelief. "The hood ornament? Where's the rest of the car?"

"We're…still workin' on that," Kat replied.

"Mrs. James." Bridget drew in a shaky breath. "That's definitely Ellie's. She showed me the engraving James had done at the base of it."

Kat steeled herself for the unpleasant question ahead. "Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Ellie?"

Bridget blinked up at her. "So this is a murder investigation? But…there's—there's no…" she trailed off, unable to speak the word.

"We have reason to believe foul play was involved," Nick said quietly.

From within the file, Kat produced a protective plastic sleeve containing the page from Ellie's steno pad. "This note was in Ellie's suitcase when we found it. It has some water damage, but…you can see why we're concerned."

Bridget gasped. "My God." Her hand flew to her chest; her eyes to Kat. "Rick."

Kat glanced over at Vera to find him looking back at her. "Who's Rick?" she asked.

"I swore to Ellie I wouldn't tell a soul."

Kat suppressed a sudden prick of irritation. People insisted on keeping forty-five year-old secrets one moment, and then the next, they wondered why the police couldn't solve the murder.

The same slight edge was present in Vera's voice. "Mrs. Sorenson, if you know something that could help us find out what happened to Ellie...tell us."

Bridget closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, her jaw set. "Rick Rodgers was an attorney at the firm where she worked." Her spoon made pointless circles in a half-empty teacup, clinking gently against its china edges. "I don't know when their relationship turned romantic, but Ellie confided in me a few weeks before she disappeared. She said she 'd just…gotten cold feet about marrying James, but she'd gotten it out of her system and was ready to commit."

"Do you know for a fact she broke it off with Rick?" Kat's mind was whirring with the possibilities.

"Well, I assumed she did." Bridget rested her spoon on the saucer and picked up her teacup. "I never heard another word about him. Ellie looked for all the world like a young woman getting ready to marry the love of her life."

"Did James ever find out about the affair?" Kat asked.

"Not that I could tell," Bridget replied. "That was part of why I kept her secret."

Nick glanced her way. "If I'm Rick, and I find out I'm just a way for some runaway-bride type to find herself, I'm not gonna take that too well."

"And if James found out somehow, I can't imagine he took it too well," Kat shot back.

She and Nick looked at each other for a moment, the energetic glimmer in his eyes matching the one she felt in her heart. Either way, this case had just picked up some serious new direction in the form of not one, but two suspects, both with definite motive. It was moments like this when Kat loved her job the most.

"Any idea where Rick is now?" Nick switched his gaze back across the table to Bridget.

Chuckling, the older woman gave his hand a fond pat. "Oh, honey. Everyone knows where Rick Rodgers is now. Because after Ellie disappeared, he left the firm and started writing murder mysteries. I always found his timing…peculiar."

Kat's eyes bugged out of her head. "Wait, he's _that _Rick Rodgers?"

"As in, the guy who could get New York Times Bestseller status with a grocery list?" Nick looked equally incredulous.

"That's the one." Bridget's lips tightened in a grim smile. "I think he lives in New York, although I don't know anything beyond that." She pushed her chair back and started to gather the tea things. "But you can probably find him through his publisher."

"Queenswell. Got it." Kat clicked her pen and closed her notebook, raising her gaze to a bemused-looking Vera.

"You knew that off the top of your head?" he asked.

Kat smiled. "I…might have read a few of his books."

"Yeah, well…me, too." Vera flashed her that irritatingly irresistible grin and leaned over to whisper in her ear as Bridget cleared the table and headed for the kitchen sink. "You mean to tell me we actually got somethin' in common?"

Oh, god_dammit. _She really was falling for him, wasn't she, with those puppy-dog eyes and that impish smile. But the thing of it was, that softer side of him she'd uncovered in recent weeks, the way he doted on her in a way she never thought she'd want, the natural ease he had with Veronica…that softer side was like a pillow cushioning that fall.

As a result, it wasn't nearly as terrifying as she'd thought it might be.


	10. Superheroes

**A/N: **It's 2015! I remember when I used to think 2000 was far away...anyway, hope your year has gotten off to a great start, and I hope this chapter can brighten it just that much more!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

**Superheroes**

_When you've been fighting for it all your life  
>You've been struggling to make things right<br>That's how a superhero learns to fly_

"Okay, I got a provolone cheesesteak with chips." The crinkly rustle of paper tore Lilly's attention away from the report she was filling out. Glancing up, she saw Jeffries standing in front of their little cluster of desks, rooting around in a large sack from Geno's.

"That's mine." Her mouth already watering, she fished a couple bills out of her desk drawer and handed them to her colleague in exchange for the paper-wrapped torpedo-shaped sandwich, along with a bag of Ruffles and a bottle of water.

"Scotty. Heads up." Will lofted another wrapped sandwich into the air, which Scotty caught easily.

"Pay you back."

"Yeah, right." Jeffries sat down at his desk and started to unwrap his own sandwich, while Lilly took a greedy bite of hers and Scotty headed for the kitchen.

"Oh, _hell,_ no." Will's disgusted-sounding exclamation drew Lilly's gaze to where Scotty was reaching up onto the shelf in for the can of spray cheese he kept there. "Hey, Scotty, I'll cancel your debt if you don't desecrate that sandwich."

"Sorry, man." Grinning, Scotty strode into the squad room and placed the can on his desk. He dug around in his pocket for his money clip, extracted a couple of bills, then handed them to Will, who rolled his eyes. A moment later, the air filled with the telltale pressurized hiss of cheese-in-a-can.

Will shook his head and stuffed the bills into his shirt pocket. "It's like peeing on the Liberty Bell."

"Hey," Scotty protested around his first mouthful of spray cheese and sandwich. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

_Don't knock good. _Lilly heard the words as clearly as if Saccardo were standing right there speaking them. With a bittersweet pang, she pulled open the bag of chips and wondered just how he was faring. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he okay?

And on the heels of that, the questions that hadn't left her alone since her talk with Scotty last night. Was Saccardo thinking about her at all? Did he miss her? Was this what normal would look like for their relationship? Was that really what she wanted?

Well. Right now, what she wanted was to finish her lunch.

"Afternoon, kids." Vera and Kat had just entered the office and were depositing their things onto their desks.

"You two get lucky this mornin'?" Scotty asked.

Nick and Kat both froze, visibly startled.

"Y'know, with the sister." Scotty's words were muffled by the bite of sandwich he'd just taken. "Someone's gotta get some kinda lead besides this damn hood ornament."

Lilly couldn't have said it better herself. She and Will had visited Big Ed's Big Pawn in Willingboro that morning, only to find the seedy-looking establishment closed due to non-payment of taxes. All calls to the numbers they had for Big Ed, or any of his presumably normal-sized associates, had gone unanswered.

"Oh, that? That, my friends, is _wide _open." The relief on Vera's face, coupled with the way he and Kat staunchly avoided eye contact as they settled into their desks, confirmed Lilly's suspicions from the night before. Something was definitely percolating between the two of them. She cut an instinctive glance at Scotty, but he was too busy with his cheesesteak to notice.

"We got not one, but two leads," Kat said with a smile. "According to Bridget, James Fleming wasn't the only man in Ellie's life."

"She was two-timin' him with one of the lawyers at the firm she worked for." Vera draped his coat over the back of his chair.

Lilly glanced toward Scotty again to find him looking back at her as he reached for his soda. "No kiddin'," he said.

"She says Ellie broke it off toward the end," Vera continued. "Went back to James."

"Even so," Will mused, "if I found out my fiancee was steppin' out on me right before the wedding? Think I'd take exception."

"Or this other guy at the firm," Scotty suggested. "Maybe he ain't a fan of gettin' dumped."

"The fiancée and the boyfriend." Lilly reached into her bag for another chip. "There's our two leads."

"I didn't even get to the best part." Kat said. "The guy she was cheating with? _Rick Rodgers." _

"Rick Rodgers?" Jeffries repeated. "The writer?"

Lilly froze, her potato chip still half in the bag. "Wait, _the _Rick Rodgers?"

"The one and only." Kat looked extremely proud of herself. "Looks like before he started writin' murder mysteries, he was a a low-level attorney with the DA's office."

Lilly tilted her head to the side. "Kinda remember reading that on a book jacket somewhere, now that you mention it. Didn't remember it bein' here in Philly."

"He still in town?" Jeffries inquired.

Vera shook his head. "Tracked him down through his publisher. Lives in SoHo."

Stillman who had emerged from his office a few moments before, nodded in Kat and Vera's direction. "Good work, you two. Guess the question now is, who's up for a trip to New York?"

"I'll go." Even Lilly was amazed at how quickly the words leaped from her mouth.

"That was fast." The boss's blue-gray eyes twinkled their amusement. "You a fan?"

Lilly grinned. "Maybe a little."

"All right. Who's headed for the Big Apple with Lil?" Stillman looked around the group.

"Wish I could." Kat looked genuinely disappointed. "V has a ballet recital tonight, though. Can't miss it."

The boss nodded. "Fair enough."

"Yeah, I've got a—" Vera paused, reeling under an inexplicably scathing glare from Kat. "Poker game. Also tonight. Which I can't miss."

"I've got a thing," Jeffries replied without looking up.

"A thing?" Vera frowned at his partner. "What kinda thing?"

Will still didn't look up. "A thing, all right?"

"Guess that leaves me." The crumpling of foil and paper filled the air as Scotty wadded up the sandwich and stuffed it into the sack.

Lilly's heart filled with a strange excitement. "Road trip!"

Scotty flashed a guarded grin. "Least we won't have to listen to country music this time."

* * *

><p>The swish of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the rhythmic thump of tires on asphalt were the only background noise to this car trip. For the first time in a long time, Scotty didn't feel a need to use the radio to ease the awkwardness between him and Lilly. So, as uncertain as he was about what being in close proximity to her outside the boundaries of the office might do to him, at least there was that.<p>

He glanced her way to find her looking back at him, eyes twinkling with mysterious mirth.

"What?" he asked.

"Okay. Kat and Nick. What the hell? Do you know somethin' I don't?"

Scotty grinned. "Well, I know they ain't as good at hidin' whatever it is as they think they are."

"What have I been missing?" The detective in her was clearly irritated at potentially having overlooked important clues.

"Well, he was bein' all chivalrous at the Blue Ball Saturday." Scotty changed lanes, processing the few non-Lilly-related memories he had of the evening. "She was drunk, and he was…bein' nice. He insisted on takin' her home, even though I offered. That was when I kinda started to wonder, y'know?"

"I'm glad he gave her a ride." Her voice held a tender smile.

"Yeah. Me, too."

Wait, was she just glad Kat had been seen safely home? Or was she glad Nick had been the one to drive Kat home, leaving Scotty to come to her aid? Something in the softness of her tone made him think, to his astonishment, that it just might be the latter.

Quickly, before those stirrings could start up again, Scotty changed the subject to what he hoped was safe territory. "So you're a Rick Rodgers fan, huh?"

"I…might've read everything he's ever written."

Scotty glanced over at her in surprise. "That's, like…what, thirty? Forty books?"

"Forty-five."

He chuckled. "Just when you think you know someone."

"You ever read anything by him?"

"Couple of 'em." He paused to think. "_Rifles and Rings _was pretty good."

She gave a quiet gasp. "My favorite Rodgers novel of all time. What about _Death of a Homecoming Queen_?"

"Never read that one."

"Oh, that one was amazing, too. Even I didn't have a clue who the killer was until—" she stopped and shook her head. "Well, I won't spoil it for you. But you can borrow my copy when we get back."

His lips curved at this adorably enthusiastic side of Lil he couldn't recall ever seeing before."Okay."

"What other ones of his have you read?" Her eager blue eyes sparkled like the ocean in the mid-afternoon sun.

"Well, Lil, to be honest…murder mysteries ain't my thing when I'm not at work. I mean, they're great and all, but…I just need a break sometimes, y'know?"

"Sure, I get that," she said, her tone free of judgment. "So what do you like to read?"

He looked over with a sheepish grin as traffic slowed to a crawl. "_Car and Driver. SI._ Bill Conlin's columns for the _Inquirer_."

A dazzling, dimpled smile. "Not much of a reader, huh?"

"Got nothin' against books, I just…was always too busy runnin' around breakin' stuff as a kid to really get into 'em." He stole a teasing glance in her direction. "Figure I'll read more when I'm old and slow."

"_Hey." _

He offered that innocent, boyish grin that had always gotten him out of trouble when he was a kid. She burst out laughing, and his heart soared. Lilly didn't laugh often, but when she did, and as the result of something he'd said? He felt like he'd just won the lottery.

"How is it we've never talked about this stuff?" Turning slightly toward him, she leaned her arm on the armrest attached to the car door and rested her right cheek lightly atop her knuckles.

That same question had just crossed his mind. Six years they'd been partners, six years of swapping theories and sharing lunches and spending late nights chasing down justice, and he couldn't recall ever discussing something so mundane as favorite reading material.

Inching closer to the bumper of the Chevy in front of him, he chuckled. "Too busy savin' the world, I guess."

"So let's throw it all out there." She glanced toward the seemingly endless parade of taillights in front of them. "Looks like we got some time to kill."

Here she was again. This open, unguarded, guileless Lilly, the same one he'd seen on his rooftop Saturday night. She made his heart hurt, but in a good way. A way that made him want to feel it again and again.

Alarm bells were going off in his head at that. He ignored them.

"All right," he said. "Let's go."

"Okay." She shifted in her seat again, eyes gleaming with eagerness. "First thing that comes to mind. Favorite color."

"Red. And black. Your turn."

"Blue."

Scotty grinned. "Coulda guessed." She frowned for a moment, then looked down at deep blue blouse she wore fairly often, the one that made her eyes look even bluer than normal.

"Yeah, me too," she said. He followed her smile to his tie. Red. With black stripes.

"Let's go for somethin' a little less obvious," he suggested, switching his attention back to the line of cars in front of him. "Favorite TV show."

"Law & Order."

"Original recipe? SVU?"

"Well, I like 'em all, but...Criminal Intent. I like to know the why."

Yeah, that was the Lilly he knew.

"What about you?" she asked.

"SportsCenter," he said with a grin.

"Well, naturally. Anything besides that?"

"The Shield."

She tilted her head to the side. "Thought you didn't like thinkin' about work when you weren't at work."

"Said I don't like to read about it." The lane to his left was moving faster. Glancing over his shoulder, he switched on his turn signal. "Watchin' it? Totally different."

"I see."

Gunning the accelerator, he took advantage of a miniscule break in traffic and slid into the next lane, much to the horn-honking annoyance of the BMW behind him. "Your turn, Rush. Grill me."

"Favorite food."

"Easy. My mom's _arroz con gandules._"

"_Oye, chico_." Her voice was as light and teasing as the grin he knew was on her lips. "_Gringa."_

Scotty's heart gave a strange thump at the sound of his mother tongue on his partner's lips. He was seized with a sudden desire to find out what other words she might know. What the lyrical language might sound like encased in her adorable, if a bit clunky, Philly accent.

Glancing her way, he realized by the expectant, and slightly confused, look on her face that she was still waiting for a translation. "It's… gonna sound way better in Spanish than English."

"Try me."

"Well, _arroz _is rice, and _gandules _are these little peas…pigeon peas, I think they're called."

"Rice with peas?" She sounded as incredulous as he'd expected. "Your favorite food is rice with peas?"

"It's more than just the peas," he protested around a chuckle. "It's got some _tocino_ in it; that's kinda like bacon...olives, capers, and the _spices…_oh, God, I'm droolin' just thinkin' about it."

"Yeah, well, drool the other way."

He had to laugh. "Let's see…" Once more, he pondered the line of cars out the windshield, although thankfully they were moving a bit faster now. "Oh. Here's one. How'd you decide to become a cop?"

That gorgeous smile froze on her face, then wilted like a flower that dared to bloom too early. "Oh. Okay, uh…you first."

"Okay…" The sudden distance he felt from her made him wonder if he'd said something wrong, done something. Maybe he should turn on the radio after all. But she was still looking at him like she expected him to answer, so he plunged ahead.

"Well, for the longest time I didn't have a clue what I wanted to do. Easiest ticket outta my neighborhood was sports, and I was pretty good, but not good enough for a scholarship, especially after I tore up my ankle, so college ball was a no go." A grin tugged at his lips at the memory of his eighteen-year-old self. "And my grades were crap, so they weren't gonna get me anywhere, either. But I had to get some kinda job, 'cause Elisa's _papi_ already thought I was a _perezoso, _y'know. Lazy."

"Right." Lilly's voice sounded a million miles away, firmly encased in whatever bubble she'd just retreated into.

"So I talked to my coach, and he told me that a lot of the things that made me a good QB would also make me a good cop. I'd never thought about it before, but I went for a ride-along, and after that, I was hooked."

"Your coach was right." Lilly smiled, then paused and blew out a breath. "Well, guess it's my turn."

The artificial brightness in her voice filling his stomach with chilly dread, he glanced over at her in alarm. "Lil, if you don't wanna talk about this, you—"

"No, no." She brushed away his concern with a fluttering of her hand, then hesitated for a moment, seeming to gather her courage. "I want to. Really. I've just…never really told anyone before. Not on my own terms, anyway." Shadows flitted across her face, the reasons for which he couldn't even begin to guess at. "But…it's _you_, Scotty. And I—I think part of me wants you to know."

Her words wrapped their way around his heart in a gentle embrace.

"Anyway." A quick breath, and then she plunged ahead. "One night when I was ten, my mom ran outta hooch and sent me to the corner store. It was late, and we...lived in a crappy neighborhood…."

The dread was growing chillier by the minute.

"..and this guy just...came outta nowhere. Took my money. Beat me up pretty good, too; broke my jaw, lost some teeth…"

The trapdoor beneath Scotty's heart opened with a nearly-audible snap, sending it freefalling down to somewhere near the gas pedal. He'd known she had a four-nine report. Known for years. But knowing she had one and knowing the awful truth it contained were two very, very different things.

He ached for her, in a way he couldn't put into words. Not that she'd hear them, anyway, so deep was she in her own pain. He settled for whispering a quiet "Jeez, Lil," lurching forward in traffic, and, a bit uncertainly, reaching over and resting his hand on top of hers.

He was pleasantly surprised when she didn't immediately jerk her hand away. Even more so when he felt the slender, balled-up fist beneath his palm start to relax.

"My mom didn't want to press charges." She gave a bitter chuckle. "Guess she…didn't want the world to know what a mess she was. But the detective on the case? He wouldn't let it go."

"Good." Scotty felt a twinge of pride at that.

"And one day, this detective calls me down to the station, says they've got a lineup they want me to see. My mom said it wouldn't matter, that it was too late, that there was no way I'd remember, but…" Lilly lifted her chin, a bit defiantly. "I picked the bastard out right away."

"Course you did." He tossed her the most reassuring glance he could, given the traffic. Her hand flexed beneath his, then opened, and the next thing he knew his fingers had fallen into hers, squeezed in a fierce, yet gentle embrace.

"And the detective…he told me how brave I was." She bit her lip, her face shining with the pride of that long-ago moment. "No one had ever said that about me before, y'know?_ Brave_." She sat up a little straighter in her seat, wrapped her fingers around his a little tighter. "And I told him my mother had said it was too late, and that detective told me somethin' I've never forgotten."

Scotty smiled. "Yeah? What's that?"

"As long as you ask the right questions, it's never too late."

Despite the heartrending heaviness of what she'd just told him, Scotty suddenly felt like he was floating ten feet above the driver's seat. She'd let him in, to one of the darkest, most hidden parts of her past, and from the sound of it, he was the first who'd been welcomed there. She wasn't flipping out, she wasn't running away, she—she was _holding his hand_, for God's sake. Whether the gesture was intentional when she'd first done it, it was now. The shimmer in those sapphire eyes told him so.

And now, now that she'd shared the reason she did this job, it was as though he'd finally caught the smoking gun in the case of Lilly Rush. Why she was so tireless. Why the old jobs spoke so strongly to her. Why she was so determined and stubborn and smart and all the other things that made her who she was. After six years of trying, he finally felt like he understood her.

Well, as much as anyone could understand a woman like Lil.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Sounds like a smart guy, that detective."

"Yeah." Was that a hint of mischief in her voice? "Detective Stillman. He was great."

Scotty's eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead. "Stillman? As in our boss, Stillman?"

"Yeah." The tiny hint of amusement flew away on the wings of her sigh. "So…now you know why I never told anyone. Why I don't like to talk about it." Her grip on his fingers tightened. "Well, lots of reasons, but…I don't want people to get the wrong idea of why I'm in Homicide. 'Poor little Lilly Rush, she got attacked when she was ten and John Stillman's got a soft spot for her.'"

"_No one_ thinks that about you, Lil." His voice was quiet, but forceful, and he instinctively increased the pressure of his palm and started to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. Her hand was soft. Delicate. But strong. Just like her. "No one who's ever been around you for more than five minutes, anyway."

She drew in a shaky breath."Yeah?"

"You're more than brave, Lil, you're—you're _fearless_." He floundered for words, cursing the fact that he had to keep his eyes, and at least some of his attention, on the road. "You're brilliant. You never give up. And you took this horrible, shitty thing that happened to you, this thing that some bastard did to make you weak…and you turned it into a strength."

"You think so?"

"Yeah." The word came out a husky half-whisper. "You…you amaze me."

Scotty had never in his life been so thankful for a red light, because it he could finally look her in the eyes. They were wide and shining and hopeful, overlaid with a thin film of tears, and so depthless he could drown in them. Or maybe he already was. The undertow of those eyes was pulling him down, deeper and deeper, and then his gaze wandered to her lips, and—

The long, irritated blare of a car horn startled Scotty into reality, where the light was green and the guy behind him was getting seriously pissed off. Growling an obscenity under his breath, he pulled back from Lilly and returned his attention to the road. They released their hands, and he instantly regretted the absence of her soft, warm skin. That chilly air rushing to fill the space was nowhere near the same.

"So, uh…" he cleared his throat, forcing his eyes onto the road and his bereft right hand back to the cold hardness of the steering wheel. "We know where we're headed?"

Lilly tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and scrolled through something on her phone. "Grand Central Station, actually."

"No kiddin'?"

"Nope." Fabric rustled as she stashed her phone back in her pocket. "Just got a text from Boss; Rick Rodgers is doing a book signing at a store there."

"Hope he's still signin' by the time we get there and find a place to park." Scotty braked to avoid a taxi and swore again, muttering under his breath about the idiocy of bringing the car.

"Gotta have some way to bring the guy back with us if he's guilty," she remarked. He knew. But maneuvering in rush-hour traffic in Manhattan had never been his idea of a good time.

Now, though, the insanity of too many cars in too small a space would be a welcome distraction from all the feelings that were zooming around his still-pounding heart.

He'd…he'd almost kissed her.

Lilly. His partner. His friend. He'd almost _kissed _her.

And it was downright frightening how much he wished that 'almost' had been an 'actual.' Another few inches, another few seconds, and he'd know how it felt to have her lips pressed against his. Know whether they were as silky soft as her hand. Her hair. He wouldn't be sitting here wondering. Trying not to wonder. He'd know.

He'd almost kissed her. And from the fidgety, tremulous way she kept glancing over at him, it seemed that, incredibly, she might not have been opposed to the idea.

That was the most exhilarating—and terrifying—thought of all.


	11. The End of the World

**A/N:** My oldest son, the one with whom I was pregnant during my most prolific period of fic-writing, informed me today that he likes the Magic School Bus books so much he's writing his own. He's six pages in, with text and illustrations. That's right, y'all; my five-year-old is writing fanfic.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

**The End of the World**

_Don't they know it's the end of the world  
>It ended when you said goodbye<em>

By some miracle, they'd found a parking spot. Granted, it was at a price that made Lilly balk, even knowing it was on the department's dime, not hers, but the look in Scotty's eyes told her, in no uncertain terms, that he didn't care what it cost, they were here, they were parking, and that settled it.

They were still a few blocks away from Grand Central, and Lilly and Scotty walked there largely in silence. Well, what passed for silence in midtown Manhattan. But the honking of horns, the roar of traffic, and the voices of passersby were the perfect backdrop for her chaotic thoughts. One minute, she and Scotty had been having a fun conversation, and the next, he'd asked her _that question_, and then he was looking at her, and looking at her, and—and then…had he almost_ kissed_ her? It looked like he was thinking about it, the way those gorgeous dark eyes had flitted to her lips. He'd swallowed hard, started to inch closer…

But then the light turned, the horn honked, and the moment was shattered. And…maybe she wasn't remembering correctly. Maybe he hadn't moved closer or let his gaze linger on her mouth. Maybe it was just her imagination. The product of Saccardo being gone and her missing him.

But either way, she couldn't stop wondering what would've happened if she and Scotty hadn't been interrupted. What it would've been like to feel those lips on hers, to taste them, to have him pull her close and hold her in his arms. And these were things she'd never, ever wondered about her partner. The man who, right now, was in step next to her, but locked in his own thoughts, thoughts she could only guess at. He wasn't acting any different. She'd never know from his demeanor that anything had happened, or almost happened…

…so maybe it hadn't. And even if it had, it wasn't anything. It was just a moment. A fleeting, passing moment, the sort of thing that, she supposed, would invariably happen when two people spent a lot of time together, sharing things of a decidedly personal nature.

Well, whatever it was, whatever almost happened didn't, and that was probably for the best. Besides, the gaping stone archway of Grand Central beckoned, along with what seemed like, and probably was, thousands upon thousands of people. Melding into the swarm of humanity, Lilly headed toward the bookstore and wrapped herself in the comforting blanket of the job she was here to do. A job she loved. A job that, thankfully, required her to block out everything else.

Best of all? It was a job that would allow her, in a few short minutes, to come face to face with one of the people who'd inspired her to do it in the first place. She almost felt like pinching herself.

She was about to meet Rick Rodgers.

* * *

><p>The line at the book signing shuffled forward with almost glacial slowness, the cacophony of crowd noise blending individual conversations into a meaningless blur. Despite his impatience, Scotty resisted the urge to glance at his watch to see just how long they'd been at this. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know.<p>

He hadn't wanted to wait in line in the first place. All they'd have needed to do to get to Rodgers was go to the front, whip out their badges, and be done with the damn thing. They had a murderer to catch, and mooing along with a herd of hardback-clutching humanity in an overcrowded, overheated bookstore was not on Scotty's agenda for getting that accomplished.

But then Lil had turned to him, an uncharacteristic twinkle in her eyes, and pointed out that the department was already footing the bill for an overnight stay, so they had time for a little fun. He'd stared at her cockeyed, not quite understanding why this fit her definition of "fun," and that was when she'd grinned and slipped a worn-looking copy of _Rifles and Rings _out of her shoulder bag. At that, he knew he'd lost, because when she was looking at him like that, he was powerless to deny her anything.

And so they took their place at the back of the line, and Scotty tried like hell to focus on what they were there to do and not on the electrical charge that still hummed between him and his partner. He couldn't believe how quickly the barrier of professionalism had started to show some cracks. He'd thought that thing was six feet thick.

Well, he guessed not. Because he couldn't stop glancing over at her. Couldn't stop wishing he could reach over and caress the softly curled ends of her pale blonde ponytail. Couldn't stop wanting to take her hand and interlace his fingers with hers all over again. Ever since he let go earlier, he'd felt like part of himself was missing.

Finally, they reached the little table where Rick Rodgers was holding court. Their suspect looked up through a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and fixed Lilly with a rakish grin. "Well, hello there, young lady."

"Wow." Her voice came out a breathy, tremulous shadow of its usual strong self. "Wow. Rick Rodgers. I can't believe I'm meeting you. Wow."

Scotty fought back a surprised chuckle as his pink-cheeked partner placed her well-loved hardback on the table in front of her hero. Star-struck Lil was, God help him, the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

"_Rifles and Rings_. You must be a true fan. Haven't signed one of these in years." His grin widening, Rodgers opened the book, his silver Sharpie poised over the inside cover. "And to whom shall I make this out?"

She looked blank for a moment, then seemed to remember why she'd come. "Oh. To Lil—Lilly. With two Ls. Lilly."

_Ay, dios mio_. She was making his heart hurt again.

Rodgers's pen danced across the page, filling the air with its pungent odor, and that's when Lilly snapped out of it and reached for her badge. "Actually, it's… Detective Lilly Rush. Philadelphia Homicide."

"All the way from Philly?" Rodgers's bright smile faltered as he handed Lilly her newly-autographed book. "Well, color me flattered, Detective."

"We ain't just here as fans." Scotty stepped forward, badge in hand. "I'm her partner, Detective Valens. We need to ask you a few questions about Ellie King."

Rodgers' transformation was just as rapid, and dramatic, as Lilly's had been. He blanched, the roguish crinkles around his eyes giving way to deeply etched lines. His sure, steady hands shook so much that the Sharpie fell to the table with a loud clatter, rolled to the edge, then fell to the floor. A murmur swept through the crowd.

The young, strawberry blonde woman standing to Rodgers' left bent down to retrieve the pen, her whole being radiating concern. "Are you all right, Mr. Rodgers?" She laid a hand on his tweed-covered shoulder as she straightened. "Do you need to take a break?"

It seemed to take a moment for the question to register. Then, Rodgers sprang into detached action. "A break. Yes. Yes. A break." He slowly rose from the table, bumping into the large, grinning, cardboard version of himself that was, at this moment, so different from the live version it may as well have been a cartoon. "A break. I'll need until tomorrow."

His young assistant looked quietly panicked for a moment, then moved between Rodgers and the crowd, waving them away with slender, slightly freckled arms. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, our sincerest apologies, but Mr. Rodgers is feeling a bit ill…"

The crowd groaned, but started a reluctant retreat. Oblivious to them, Rodgers leaned forward, blue eyes fixed on Lilly. "There's…there's information then? About Ellie?"

Lilly studied him for a moment. "Yes."

"Then, do you…mind terribly if we have this conversation in private? At my loft?"

Scotty stepped to the other side of Rodgers and gently grasped his elbow. "Long as you don't mind us drivin'."

* * *

><p>"Ellie is…was…<em>is <em>my inspiration. My muse." Rick Rodgers sat at a massive oaken desk in the pipe smoke-scented study of his penthouse loft, flanked by seemingly endless floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and walls covered with framed cover flats of each of his forty-five novels. Glancing up at those walls, he indicated a handful of frames in the corner with wistful smile. "I modeled my first heroine after her."

"Kathryn Ice." Lilly smiled, warmed by the memory of many happy hours squirreled away in her bedroom, reading dog-eared library copies and daydreaming about being a fearless, formidable badass like Detective Kathryn Ice, NYPD.

Rodgers lifted a surprised brow. "Yes."

"I…read all the Detective Ice books when I was young." She grinned. "Well, devoured, more like."

"My dear Lilly, I do apologize." At her questioning look, a smile split his still ruggedly handsome features. "Those books are terrible."

Lilly lifted her chin. "Well, _I _loved them. Kathryn Ice made me realize that maybe a woman really could make it to Homicide."

"Back then it was a fantasy," Rodgers said.

"It ain't now," Scotty piped up. "You're lookin' at the first female murder cop in Philly."

Lilly flushed under the obvious pride in her partner's voice, at the tender expression she knew without even looking was written all over his face. It wasn't something she thought about all that often anymore, being a pioneer, and it definitely wasn't something she liked to throw around, but facts were facts. Someone had to break through that glass ceiling, and she was glad, and a little amazed, that she'd been the one to do it.

"Is that a fact?" Rodgers's leather chair creaked as he leaned forward.

Lilly nodded. "There are two of us now."

"Well." Eyes twinkling, Rodgers extended a weathered hand to Lilly. "I certainly won't take credit for your accomplishments, but it thrills me to no end if my work inspired you."

His hand was surprisingly warm. A little rough. It could've been anyone's hand, but it wasn't. It was the hand that had penned all those wonderful, rapturous words. She couldn't believe she was shaking it.

"Oh, it did," she said. "Still does."

Rodgers relaxed his grip with a weary sigh. "And now we've come to the moment I've been trying to avoid. Because you are a Homicide detective, from Philadelphia, and don't think for a minute I don't know what you're here to tell me."

The heaviness of the moment settled on Lilly's shoulders like a thick winter coat. She'd been trying to forget that this man whose words had helped shape her might well be clapped in cuffs by day's end, just as he'd been trying to forget who she was and why she'd come.

"Where'd you find her, Detectives?" His voice was quiet. Almost kind.

Lilly's heart gave a painful lurch. "Well, I…"

"We're still workin' on that," Scotty supplied, then slid from his files a clear plastic sleeve containing the threat letter. "We, uh…found this with some of Ellie's stuff. You got any idea who might've written it?"

Rodgers took the note in a trembling hand and looked down at it. His eyes widened, and then he blew out a quiet breath. "Of course, Detective. I'd know that handwriting anywhere." A sad smile curved his lips. "It's hers."

Lilly and Scotty exchanged a glance. "Hers," Scotty repeated with a frown. "You mean Ellie's?"

"She'd scribble her notes in steno pads she got from work." Rodgers's mournful blue eyes caressed the plastic-covered note once more, then flitted up to meet Lilly's."Ellie King was a writer, Detective Rush. Five times the one I am." He handed the note back with obvious reluctance. "It's a shame the world never got to read more of her work."

The gears in Lilly's mind started to crank a little faster. "Was she published?"

"Yes, under a nom de plume. L. E. Bishop." A corner of his mouth quirked upward. "I assume you can make the connection between L. E. and Ellie?"

Lilly smiled. "King...Bishop...both chess pieces."

"Right you are, Detective." Rodgers grinned back at her. "The whole thing was my idea. Ellie thought it was corny, but we made it work."

"So those books we found with the note, the ones by L. E. Bishop…she's the one who wrote 'em?" The lines across Scotty's forehead deepened with his effort to wrap his mind around the twist their case had just taken.

"One and the same, Detective." Rodgers rose from his desk and ran a finger along some of the colorful volumes on the shelf behind him. He paused in front of two slim, age-yellowed paperbacks, which he pulled down, caressed with a loving gaze, then handed to Lilly and Scotty. "She'd submitted her first manuscript several times for publication, but most of the major houses didn't take female mystery writers seriously. I suggested she try submitting the same work under a pseudonym, and, well…the rest, as the cliché goes, is history."

Lilly picked up one of the worn paperbacks, an identical copy of one they'd found in the suitcase. She peeked inside the front cover, where, sure enough, the book bore an autograph just as her copy of _Rifles and Rings_ now did. _"To Rick. Thank you for everything. And you know exactly which 'everything' to which I refer. L. E. Bishop."_

Lilly knew without even looking at the page they'd pulled from the steno pad that the handwriting was the same.

"This is the first we're hearin' about Ellie bein' a writer," Scotty said, drawing Lilly's gaze upward.

"I'm not surprised." Rodgers lowered himself back into the creaky chair. "She didn't tell many people about her work to begin with, and her fiancé just… thought it was a cute hobby. He didn't have any idea how brilliant she was, or how serious she was about it."

Scotty nodded, his pen scratching quietly across his notepad.

"How'd you find out about it?" Lilly asked.

"The most fortuitous accident of my entire life." Rodgers smiled, remembering. "I stopped by her desk to drop off some files I needed her to collate. It was during her lunch hour, so she was away from her desk. I reached over to grab a paper clip, and that's when I caught a glimpse of the piece of paper in her typewriter. One sentence, and I was hooked. I kept reading, and reading…and that's when she came back and caught me."

"What happened then?" Lilly leaned forward, eager to hear the rest of the story this man was spinning. The detective in her cautioned it might be nothing more than that. A story.

"She was more flustered than anything." Rodgers's pale cheeks colored slightly with the resurgence of what were no doubt some of his happiest memories. "A little embarrassed. But once I assured her I wouldn't make fun, or blab her secret to the whole firm, she…she seemed relieved. She said he had some questions about some of the legal issues for a plot idea she was working on, and I was able to provide that information." Long-ago love surfaced in his expression as though Ellie herself was with them at his desk. "We talked, exchanged notes…she let me read her drafts, we'd have lunch together…and eventually, it was more than just writing. It was love. A love neither of us wanted, but one we…couldn't deny."

Scotty's brows lifted. "Did James Fleming ever find out about the two of you?"

Rodgers sighed. "To this day, I've no idea. She broke it off with him right before she disappeared, but I never found out whether she told him the reason why."

Alarm bells ringing in her head, Lilly glanced toward Scotty; his pursed lips and furrowed brow made it clear that Rodgers' words had drawn his attention, too. In their brief encounter with him at the car show, Fleming had never once mentioned a breakup.

"You sure she cut things off with him?" Scotty asked.

"All I have is her word, Detective, but her word was gold. She and I were planning to run away together. Start a new life. God, what fools we were." Sighing, he raked tense fingers through his silvery hair, then folded his hands on top of the desk. "We were supposed to meet at the bus depot that night. I waited until dawn, but…she never showed."

Scotty shot Lilly a sidelong glance. "That explains the suitcase."

"Suitcase?" Rodgers' bushy brows lifted.

"We found a suitcase belonging to Ellie in the basement of an apartment in Kensington," Lilly explained. "The note, and two of her books, were inside. Clothes, shoes...it was fully packed."

"I'll be damned. "Rodgers's craggy face displayed a curious mixture of agony and relief.

"She have any connection to Kensington?" Scotty asked.

Rodgers nodded. "It's where she grew up. Her parents still had an apartment there, until their untimely passing."

Lilly scribbled that down, then looked back up at Rodgers. "Did you and Ellie have a plan for where you were going?"

"Where all the dreamers come." Rodgers chuckled, then indicated the glittering New York skyline out his window. The sinking sun peeked between the skyscrapers, casting everything in warm rosy light. "Right here."

"So you came alone," Lilly surmised.

"I did eventually. Being in Philly, where she was, where we were together…it was too much." Rodgers gave a sad half-smile, then rose from the chair again and started to pace in front of his bookshelves. "Plus, by then, I'd figured out that I was a really terrible lawyer. So I quit my job, holed up in my apartment…and then one day, beside myself with grief, I…picked up a pen and a piece of paper and, out of sheer desperation, tried to—to write her. Ellie." Arms laced behind his back, he turned and smiled at the small photo of Ellie that held a place of honor on a center shelf. "I had no idea what the hell I was doing, but with my words, I found I could bring her back. When I was writing her, I didn't miss her. It was like she was right there with me."

The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. "The birth of Kathryn Ice," Lilly murmured.

Rodgers smiled. "Good work, Detective. By some miracle it was published, and after that, I had the money to move here. We'd always planned to come here, and—if I couldn't do it with her in person, I'd come with her spirit. With Ellie as my creative muse." He chuckled, trailing a fingertip over the gilt edge of the frame. "I still hear her voice sometimes. Telling me I haven't quite got that paragraph right yet, or this turn of phrase isn't exactly what it needs to be, or this character wouldn't do that."

"So how come you never told any of this to the cops back in '62?" Scotty asked, mere seconds before Lilly could.

Rodgers shook his head. "I was a coward. James Fleming never indicated that he knew Ellie and I were together, and if I went public with it…I didn't want to see the way she'd be treated in the papers. They'd make her out to be a cheater. A whore. None of which she was. She was...just a young woman trying to fit a mold others had created for her, and finally figuring out that was simply never going to happen. She was one of a kind. Not a day—not a _moment _goes by that I don't think about her. That I don't miss her. Even though I know better, I can't help hoping sometimes that she'll just walk through that door. Or that she's still out there somewhere, that she found her happiness, even if it wasn't with me."

Once more, Lilly glanced around the study. There were no family portraits, no snapshots of a laughing wife, no crayon drawings from grandchildren on the walls. Only that small black-and-white photo of Ellie on the bookshelf. This room was a capsule in which Rick Rodgers lived, just a man and his work and his muse.

As she and Scotty gathered their things and bid their farewells to Rodgers, Lilly felt the twin pangs of sympathy and envy. What must it be like to live one's entire life wondering and grieving and hoping, all at the same time? What must it be like to have the love of your life exist entirely in your own head?

But what must it feel like to be loved like that? To be _missed _like that?

Warring, irrational emotions seethed inside her. This was the kind of love Scotty was talking about. The kind of love he said she deserved.

Did she have it with Saccardo? Had she ever had it? With anyone? Had any of the people who'd walked out of her life missed her even a fraction as much as Rick Rodgers so clearly still missed Ellie?

She didn't even have to wonder about the answer. It opened the long-ago wounds in her heart, leaving them raw and gaping.

And hoping, against her better judgment, that whatever hotel the department had stashed them in had a bar.


	12. Yet

**A/N: **As this story is set relatively early in season 6, Lilly has not reconnected with her father.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>

**Yet**

_I'll run until my heart caves in  
>No, you haven't lost me yet<em>

Scotty's thumb pressed the worn-looking channel arrows on the hotel remote again and again, looking for something, anything, on the tube to hold his interest. He was tired, but nowhere near sleepy. Bored, but not quite to the point of restless. Getting there, though, especially since he'd just cycled through the same _I Love Lucy_ marathon for the third time.

All right. That did it. If he was going to spend his night in New York watching TV, he at least deserved a drink. Maybe a snack, too. That got him up off the too-firm mattress and over to the mini-bar. Maybe he'd have a shot or two of something, just to help him unwind after a long, unsettling day. Or maybe he'd—

Oh, no way. Twelve bucks for a beer? Eight for a bag of chips? He put the items back where he'd found them, then reached across the bed for the remote and clicked Desi and Lucy into silence. If he had to spend half his per diem on overpriced snacks, he was at least going to do it someplace less pathetic than his hotel room.

Poking his feet back into his shoes, he re-did most of the buttons on his dress shirt, but opted to leave his tie where it lay draped across the corner of his suitcase. He slipped his room key and his phone into his shirt pocket and started for the elevator, but doubled back on sudden impulse and went the three doors in the opposite direction to Lilly's room. Maybe she'd feel like joining him.

He wasn't sure, though. Ever since their interview with Rick Rodgers, his partner had seemed a little distant. She'd barely said two words during the quick dinner they'd grabbed on the way to the hotel. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little apprehensive about the cause for that distance, but he knew pushing it would make things worse, so he'd decided to leave her alone. If she was pissed off at him, she'd let him know eventually.

But he could only leave her alone for so long.

After some hesitation, Scotty knocked on her door. No answer. He lingered for a moment, staring at the dark green painted surface and the gold numbers on the back of the door, concern mingling with disappointment, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and heading back toward the elevator. She was probably just tired. Turned in early. He couldn't blame her for that.

But he also couldn't help missing her a little as he hopped onto the elevator and pressed the button, considering his options as he zoomed toward the ground floor. There was a little pub a block or two over, one that kind of reminded him of Jones's. That seemed a promising place to start.

But as he strode through the lobby toward the double glass doors, something in the dim recesses of the mostly-empty hotel bar yanked at his attention. A waterfall of white-blonde hair, still curled at the ends and slightly crimped in the middle, as though it had recently been released from a ponytail.

Scotty stopped dead in his tracks. He'd know that blonde hair anywhere.

Cautiously, he entered the bar and slid onto the tool next to Lilly. Her hair curtained off her face; long, slender fingers toyed with a half-empty glass of amber liquid. Jack Daniels, maybe. Or a Crown.

At least it wasn't an appletini.

He nodded to the bartender, a portly man who was polishing a wine glass. "Bring me one of whatever she's having."

Lilly glanced up, her surprised expression melting into a tipsy smile. "Hey."

He grinned back at her. "You all right, Lil?"

"Getting there." She lifted her drink.

An identical glass appeared in front of him, and Scotty clinked it gently against hers, then raised it to his lips and took an experimental sip. Jack. Definitely Jack. He polished off the rest in a single scorching gulp.

As the fire faded, he sat in silence and studied his partner. She looked older than she had this morning. The fine lines around her eyes were etched more deeply, her jaw was set a little more firmly. Something had definitely gotten to her today. He flitted through a rather lengthy list of possibilities, unsure which one had pushed her over the edge. Even more unsure how—or even if—he should ask.

"He misses her," she said.

Scotty blinked his confusion.

"Rick Rodgers. He misses Ellie. Forty-five years, y'know? Forty. Five. _Years._ That's longer than I've been alive, Scotty. And he still _misses _her." Lilly picked up the glass, started swirling the contents again. "Did you see he still has her picture up?"

Scotty nodded, in response to both Lilly's spoken question and the bartender's silent one.

"No wedding ring. No pictures of anyone else. No sign of anything in his life but his work…and his memories."

"Yeah, but do you really think that's healthy? Locked away in a prison you made yourself?" Scotty leaned an elbow on the bar. "I don't think it'd…cheapen what he had with Ellie if he'd found someone else."

"Maybe there was no someone else," Lilly argued. "Maybe she was it for him. His one shot."

He searched her expression as he picked up his freshly-arrived refill. "You really think people only get one shot?" He'd believed that, after Elisa. But now, inexplicably, he hoped to God it wasn't true.

"Well, not people like you." Lifting her drink, she looked him over and gave a bitter chuckle. "People like you get as many shots as they want."

His brow creased. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Scotty. You're smart, you're successful, you're loyal, you're funny, you're—you're fucking _gorgeous_—"

"Wait, how drunk _are_ you?" He needed exactly zero fingers to count the number of times she'd made such a comment about his appearance.

Ignoring his question, she gestured toward him with her glass. "You, Scotty Valens, are the kind of person people stick around for." She punctuated her sentence by draining the last of her drink, then set the glass on the bar and looked around for the bartender. "Hit me again."

"Charge it to my room," Scotty told the bartender. "And bring her a water, too."

The bartender smiled, nodded, and bustled off to fill their requests.

"See?" Lilly turned toward him. "That's exactly what I'm talkin' about. You're one of the good guys, Scotty. You're worth stickin' around for."

"What, you think you ain't?" The thought filled him with alarm.

Her slight shrug was all the confirmation he needed.

"I've been thinkin' about what you said." Propping her chin in her left hand, she trailed the tip of her right index finger in the little circle of condensation her drink had left behind. "About how I deserve someone who can't even stand to be away from me for a day. An hour."

"Lil, I'm sure Eddie misses you. I—I know…" _I know I would. _That was what he'd stopped himself from saying. Their drinks arrived, and he washed the words down with another welcome sip.

"But he left, Scotty." She lifted her drink and regarded it with a bitter laugh. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised. They all do eventually."

"Who, Lil?" Dread started to coil in the pit of his stomach. "Who's they?"

"My dad." She tossed a healthy portion of whiskey down her throat, then lowered the glass and stared into it. "He walked out when I was six. Took me until high school graduation to figure out he was never comin' back."

Unsure what to say, Scotty sat in silence on the barstool, quickly filling in the last pieces of the puzzle. He'd known Lil's dad hadn't been around much, but this was the first time she'd supplied the details.

"He can't have loved me that much," she told her whiskey. "Or he'd have tried. He'd have fucking _tried."_

His heart cracking down the center, Scotty leaned forward, seeking her gaze. "He should have, Lil. He _should have._ But it's his loss if he didn't. 'Cause he doesn't know how amazing you are. Doesn't know how smart and brave and beautiful and brilliant you are. And a guy like that? Guy who'd ditch his own daughter? He doesn't deserve to know you."

A slight twitch of the lips was the only response he got. He knew from what she'd told him in the car, from the shadows flitting across her face, the nature of the cross she'd been left to bear. And her father—if the son of a bitch even deserved the word—should've been there. To protect her. To shield her. To love her. To do all the things fathers are supposed to do for their kids. And he hadn't. He'd just walked away, and left Lilly to deal with the fallout.

Scotty's grip on the glass tightened as he watched the emotions on Lilly's face; the lines etched by too heavy a burden at too tender an age. His every instinct screamed at him to do something, to say something else, to keep trying until he fixed this. Except there wasn't a damn thing he could do _to _fix it. Wasn't a damn thing anyone could do.

As he sat in silence, helpless frustration burning in his chest, Scotty became dimly aware of some music being piped in from somewhere. At that, an odd, yet intriguing idea suddenly seemed to swoop down from the rafters and perch on his shoulder.

He tried shooing it away. It wouldn't solve anyone's problems, and had the potential to create a whole truckload of new ones. But the more he resisted, the more insistently it dug in its claws, so he finally summoned his courage, downed the rest of his drink, and pushed himself off the barstool.

Lilly tilted her head to the side, perplexed amusement flitting across that beautiful face. "What are you doing?"

"C'mon, Lil. Let's dance."

She gave a short, disbelieving chuckle. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Nope."

"Then how drunk are _you_?"

He shook his head. "I can't fix this for you, Lil. I can't make it so your dad didn't leave, and your mom didn't screw you over. I can't make all the people who've turned their back on you, let you down, realize what a mistake they made. I want to, Lil. Believe me. You got no idea how bad."

Her expression, though still guarded, had softened a bit.

"But…no matter how much I want to…I can't. So…the next best thing is to show you that it ain't all bad. That…y'know, maybe you don't have anyone else, maybe you don't have all the people you wish you had, but…you got me, Lil. For whatever it's worth, you got me."

She was still staring at him as he opened his arms to her, his heart suddenly hammering wildly and a hopeful grin plastered across his face. He couldn't recall ever feeling like such a complete idiot, but there was at least a chance she was drunk enough she wouldn't remember this in the morning. Besides, he'd already gone this far down the crazy trail. It was too late to back down now.

"C'mon," he urged, still unsure what, exactly, he was hoping she'd do. "Dance with me."

Finally, with a self-deprecating smile and a shake of her head, she slid off the barstool and stepped into his outstretched arms. Her left hand found his shoulder, he slipped his around her slender waist, and something shifted and settled into place within him. He felt…oddly complete. Like some part of himself he wasn't even aware was missing had finally come home.

"You really think this'll help?" she asked.

"I got no idea, Lil." He smiled against her temple. "But I'm just nuts enough to wanna find out."

* * *

><p>Several songs later, they were still there, swaying in time to the music. Approximate time, anyway. Lilly wasn't really paying attention to that. Hell, she wasn't even sure where the music was coming from. Maybe it was playing only in her head. Except that couldn't be it, because Scotty seemed to be hearing it, too.<p>

Scotty. Her partner. Who'd have ever thought she'd be spending her evening in New York dancing with him? She wondered when he'd get bored with this crazy, alcohol-soaked idea of his, but he seemed to be enjoying himself almost as much as she was.

She smiled up at him, a lazy, loopy smile.

"What?" he asked with a grin.

"Never danced with a prom king before."

He looked skyward, his dimples deepening. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Hey. I said I wouldn't tell anyone at work." She wiggled teasing eyebrows at him. "I didn't promise not to give you crap about it anytime we're together."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Anyway. You're actually a…pretty good dancer." He really was, and this surprised her a little. Oh, he was no expert; he was as raw and unpolished as she was. No flashy dance moves, no deep dips. He was just being fully himself, tapping into some innate natural rhythm she could feel in the sway of his hips and the gentle pressure of his hand on the small of her back.

She almost laughed aloud. Maybe it really was true, what they said about Latin hips.

"Now I _know _you're drunk," he was saying.

"Yeah?" She grinned up into twinkling dark eyes. "How?"

"'Cause I've stepped on your toes at least five times in the last two minutes."

She laughed a little too loudly. "You have not."

"It's true. I counted. Five." A whisper of a shoe against her toes. "Make that six."

"Well, maybe it's me." She smiled. "I am a little drunk, after all."

Grinning, he shook his head. "Nah, Lil. You're…you're great."

He was lying through his teeth, but she didn't care. In fact, she didn't really care about much of anything right now. Ever since her partner coaxed her off the barstool and into his arms, her problems didn't seem quite so bad. And he was right, he couldn't fix them, not that she needed, or even wanted him, to. Her problems were hers, and had been for as long as she could remember. But he could make her forget them. Make her realize she wasn't in this alone, and that he had her back. Just like he always had.

She'd been right about him earlier, too; he really was fucking gorgeous. Eyes the color of molten dark chocolate, fringed with decadent lashes and framed with dark, expressive brows. His dimpled smile, warm and inviting, with just a touch of amusement. That rich, glossy black hair, hair she suddenly wanted to feel between her fingers.

The song changed, melding seamlessly into a slower one, and she stepped closer to him, sliding her left hand up his shoulder to rest at his collar. Her right hand joined it a moment later, her fingers lacing together at the back of his neck.

He looked surprised for half a second, but then he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her a step closer. _Oh_. As good as dancing with him had felt already, this was better. She rested her chin on his shoulder, relishing his warmth and breathing in the sweet, spicy scent of his skin.

"Mmmm, Scotty." She gave him a gentle squeeze. "This is so nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome." His voice sounded strained.

She was teetering on the precipice, and she knew it. Over the years she and Scotty had been partners, the professional boundary between them had always remained firmly in place. They were friends, yes, but always within the strict confines of their working relationship. But since the Blue Ball, that boundary had cracked and crumbled, eroding away to dust.

If, in fact, there was enough left to erode. Maybe it was already gone.

Boldly, recklessly, she snuggled even closer, wrapping her arms completely around him and pressing her cheek to his. It was surprisingly cool, slightly stubbled, and she could feel the twitch of that muscle in his jaw as he responded in kind, drawing her flush against him and breathing a delicious, contented sigh.

There were at least a thousand reasons why they shouldn't be doing this, and the warning bells were clanging in her head, but the strength of his embrace, the way his hands cradled her, the way she felt him breathing her in, all made her staunchly resolve to ignore them.

"Y'know, for what it's worth…I think you're worth stickin' around for." His words tickled her ear, his husky voice vibrated against her chest.

She gave a low chuckle. "You already got me to dance with you, Scotty."

He pulled back to look her in the eyes. "No, Lil. I mean it. I think anyone who'd walk away from you is—is batshit, all right? I know I couldn't do it. Not in a million years. Can't even picture it, y'know? A life without you in it just—it wouldn't make sense."

"Yeah?"

He smiled, warm and tender, with a softness in his eyes she'd never seen before. "Still here, ain't I?"

He was still here. And he always had been. Through all the changes of the last few years, this cocksure, overeager, hotheaded, pain in the ass partner of hers had been the one constant. He'd seen her at her best, at her worst. Her strongest moments, and her weakest, quietly offering his friendship. His partnership. Anything and everything he had the power to offer was hers in a heartbeat.

Sometimes it was as simple as a smile. A hand on the shoulder. That look he got in his eyes, that quietly confident, _you got this, Lil _expression that buoyed her through some of her toughest moments. A laugh, if that was what she needed. The right words somehow always on his lips. _I'm here for you, _he'd told her on her darkest day. _Anything. You know that._

And he was here now, holding her in his arms, trying to make it better. Doing everything he could to make her smile, make her laugh. To make her feel wanted. Needed.

Loved.

She wasn't sure when she decided to kiss him, or where the idea even came from, but it was suddenly there, demanding her attention. The same thought seemed to be circling around his head, too. His eyes were dark and swirling with emotion. His cheeks looked flushed. His breathing was shallow, through slightly parted lips.

"Lil…"

He sounded a little scared. She didn't blame him. She was, too. Because this, what they were about to do, would change things. No way it wouldn't. And she could think of at least a dozen ways it could all come crashing down, how this one perfect moment could tumble from the air and slam into the ground in a ball of noise and flame. But right now, with the dim lights and the soft music and the booze in her blood and Scotty saying those beautiful things and looking at her in that beautiful way, kissing him was as certain as drawing her next breath.

He, too, must have felt the weight of the inevitable. His eyes were falling closed, and his mouth was seeking hers. They both paused, a hair's breadth from contact. Tremulous breaths tickled her skin; it seemed he was gathering his courage, just as she was gathering hers.

And then, finally, their lips met, and everything melted away.


	13. Soul Twist

**A/N:** For those of you who are like me and need some form of orientation when reading, this chapter is about the halfway point of the story.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>

**Soul Twist**

Lilly Rush should come with a warning label, Scotty decided as he kissed her long and deep in their deserted hotel hallway. Because she was the most addictive thing he'd ever encountered. One kiss, and he was hooked. It was as though he was wired to want her.

Somehow, they'd managed to stop kissing long enough to leave the bar and get on the elevator with at least a moderate sense of decorum. But as soon as those steel doors slid shut, she'd attacked him, undoing the rest of the buttons of his shirt and kissing him with a fervor he'd have never in his wildest dreams imagined the Ice Queen would possess. For sixteen floors, she kissed him and touched him and set every atom of his body alight with need for her. When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, they'd stumbled their way down the hall, legs tangling, half tripping, almost falling, though neither of them cared.

He wasn't even sure whose hotel room they were stopped in front of, nor was he inclined to find out, because Lilly's nimble fingers were slipping down his side and darting into his pockets. First the right, then the left, all the while her kisses continued, so delicious that his knees were going weak. He wasn't sure what she was after, but he didn't care about that, either. Those tantalizing touches had wiped his brain clean of everything but her and them and _now_.

Whatever it was she was looking for, she must not have found it yet. Her hand, near-scorching through the thin fabric of his T-shirt, skimmed over his torso, paused briefly over his pounding heart and then, seemingly inspired, darted into the pocket of his shirt.

"Mmmm. _There _it is," she murmured against his lips, then pulled away from him. His eyes snapped open to reveal her grinning lustily, with—mother of God—his key card dangling between two teasing fingers.

Scotty let out a strangled groan, the desire so thick it almost choked him. Untold ecstasies lay waiting just beyond that door, but he couldn't stand this much separation from her. Not yet. Just a few more kisses. A few more moments, and he'd have had enough of a hit that he could let her unlock his room.

If it was, in fact, his.

Screw it. Figuring that out could wait. She couldn't. His lips returned to hers with all the joy of a long-delayed homecoming. His hands tangled in her hair with untamed eagerness, trying to touch all of it at once. Oh, God, it was just as soft as he remembered. Softer. It was strands of heaven.

With a delirious moan, he tore his lips from hers and started to move downward, to explore the curve of her chin, the firm line of her jaw, that long, lily-white throat. Her scent pooled at the base of it, normally some light, fresh combination of flowers and air and woman, but now it was heated and heady. Her pulse pounded against his lips; his name floated from her mouth to caress his left ear.

Something cold and hard scraped the tender, tingling flesh of his upper lip, and he slid his fingers down to push the obstacle out of his way. Too sharp to be a button…a necklace, maybe? Yeah, definitely a necklace. Pretty, no doubt, but right now, an irritating intrusion. He swept it aside easily, then pressed another kiss to her luscious, satiny skin. And another. And another. And—

Wait.

Her necklace.

He _knew _that necklace.

And with that, the little bubble of illusion he'd built around himself, around _them_, shattered to smithereens at his feet, allowing all the reasons they shouldn't do what they were doing, what they were about to do, back into his life.

She was his friend. She was his partner.

And…she wasn't _his._

Scotty's lips froze on her flesh, every cell in his need-filled body screaming at him to ignore his brain, ignore his conscience, ignore those shattered illusions and get the hell back into that blissful bubble.

But he couldn't. Not and be able to look himself in the mirror in the morning.

Lilly pulled back and searched his face, her lips wet and cherry-red from their madness, her eyes indigo pools of unabashed desire.

"Scotty?"

Oh, he hated himself. _Hated _himself for what he was about to do.

But he'd hate himself more if he didn't.

"Lil," he rasped. "We can't."

"Why _not_?" It was practically a whine, and he groaned again. What kind of idiot would walk away from something this amazing, this wonderful, this perfect?

"We _can't," _he ground out, her delicate diamond necklace shimmering in his shaking fingertips.

Those beautiful blue eyes grew wide with realization. Frantic breathing slowed. It was clear she'd forgotten Saccardo's existence entirely, and Scotty didn't know whether to whoop with joy or bang his head against the wall.

Slowly, reluctantly, he released her and stepped back. Cold air seeped in between their bodies, sucking away what little breath remained in his lungs. Icy palm prints replaced the heat of her hands where they'd gripped his shoulder and the back of his neck. And the sick chill of guilt settled like lead in his stomach.

"_Dammit,_" she whispered, her eyes on the black and gold swirls in the carpet. Bending down, she retrieved the key that had apparently slipped from her fingers, her hair falling over her flushed cheeks and full lips like a curtain at the end of a play. Trembling hands slipped the key into the lock and turned the handle. It opened.

It was his room after all.

She looked back at him just long enough for him to see the tears pooling in her eyes, the look of terrified regret, and then she was brushing past him, hurrying down the hall toward her own room. The soft rattle of the lock and the quiet click of the door in an otherwise silent hallway was the final nail in the coffin of what might have been.

And that was how Scotty found himself a few minutes later, still sitting in the floor just inside his room, his head leaning against the back of the door.

What was he thinking? What the hell was he_ thinking_, taking advantage of her like that? It—it was stupid, and cruel, and wrong for so many reasons he wasn't sure he could remember them all. But just in case, he decided to list them again, the soft thumps of his head on the door punctuating each one.

She was his partner.

She was his friend.

She was with Saccardo.

And she was at least half-drunk; the cherry on top of his self-flagellation sundae. That alone should've been enough to bring him to a screeching halt after that first kiss. Should've kept him from doing what he did.

Kept _them _from doing what _they _did. Because she was anything but a passive participant. She'd started it. Not that he didn't want to, or wasn't trying like hell not to. But she was the one who'd gotten that look in her eyes while they were dancing. She was the one whose gaze had wandered to his lips this time. And she was the one whose restraint was totally torn to ribbons out there in the hall. Incredibly, he was the one who'd put on the brakes. She would've kept on speeding down the freeway.

And—and what the hell was that all about, anyway? Was it purely the alcohol? Would she have done that with anyone, and he just happened to be there, saying something she needed to hear? Or did she actually…_feel _something for him?

Well, whatever was going on with her, Scotty knew beyond the shadow of a doubt what was going on with him. He had feelings for her. No point in denying it. Nor was there any point in trying to figure out what label to put on them or how deep they ran. It was too terrifying to think about, and in the end it didn't matter. Whatever name they had, whatever form they took, they were there, lodged in his heart, and he had no idea how the hell to get them out. He'd fallen. Hard. For the last woman in the world he should fall for.

She was his partner.

She was his friend.

She was with Saccardo.

No way would this end in anything but heartache.

And that was when Scotty got to his feet, muttered a few choice words, and opened up the mini-bar.

Screw the high prices. He was definitely entitled to a drink.

* * *

><p>Lilly awoke the next morning to a pounding headache, a cottony mouth, and the incessant ringing of her phone. Grabbing it to answer, she was startled to see that it was past nine. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept that late.<p>

The phone call was Miller; through the pre-coffee fog, Lilly was able to determine that Rick Rodgers' alibi for the night of Ellie's disappearance checked out. Rodgers had left the law office at the time he claimed, and a woman in her nineties who'd worked at the train station remembered 'that handsome young devil' waiting there until well past midnight, looking more and more agitated the later it got.

Convinced, and more than a little relieved, that Rodgers wasn't their man, Lilly knew they had no further reason to stay in New York. She rose, dressed, and packed up her things, filled with a strange mixture of dread and anticipation at the three hours looming before her. Hours in which she'd be sealed in a car with Scotty.

_God._ Scotty. She couldn't _believe _she'd done what she'd done with him last night. That wasn't her. She didn't go around making out with co-workers. Especially not when she was dating someone else.

She had to apologize. Plead temporary insanity. She was weak, she was sad, she'd been drinking, and he said those nice things…and that combination had momentarily robbed her of her senses. And Scotty would understand. God knew he'd made his share of mistakes in this department, and he was probably just as embarrassed and eager to put the whole thing in the past as she was. So she'd apologize, beg him to forget it ever happened, and they'd go back to being partners. Friends.

_Friends. _She punctuated the declaration with a zip of her suitcase,strode down the hall, and stepped into the elevator, satisfied that she'd found a way to minimize the damage.

But then the elevator doors slid open to reveal the white tile floors of the lobby, the brass planters full of artificial greenery...and Scotty just turning away from the check-out desk.

"Mornin', Lil," he said over the rim of his cardboard coffee cup as they headed for the double glass doors.

"Hey."

And it all came rushing back.

She'd said he was gorgeous—_fucking_ gorgeous, if she recalled correctly—last night, but he seemed even more so this morning. His hair was still slightly damp from his shower; she remembered the feel of those ebony strands under her fingers. His face was smooth and freshly shaven; she knew how it felt with a slight dusting of stubble. He smelled warm and delicious, a bit more artificially-fragranced than he had last night, when most of his trademark aftershave had melted into the comforting scent of just _him. _But, as he took her suitcase and started to load it into the trunk of the Taurus, she closed her eyes and took a deep whiff anyway.

Oh, good Lord, what was _wrong _with her? She'd expected to feel awkward around him, which she did. Humiliated and guilty, which she also did. But she hadn't expected to feel so much _want. _

Now that they were in the car, so close she could feel the heat from his body, it was even worse. She wanted to trail her fingers up the exposed skin of his muscled forearm, past the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt, up and over his shoulder to play at the back of his neck, as she had last night on the dance floor. Her blood heated at the memory of the low, throaty groan he'd given in response. She wondered if he'd do that again.

His eyes were fixed straight ahead, focused on navigating through the taxi-clogged Manhattan streets. She'd seen those eyes last night, dark and glittering with desire, sultry and smoldering with the promise of what he was capable of. But despite the look in his eyes, the passion in his kisses, the heat of his hands as they'd roamed feverishly over her…he'd stopped. _Stopped_.

And that stupid reckless part of her was dying to know what would've happened if he hadn't.

Forcing her attention away from him, she fumbled inside the collar of her shirt, where the necklace Saccardo had given her still rested against her breastbone. She squeezed the diamond hard, hard enough to make a painful impression in the pad of her thumb. Saccardo was who she should be thinking these things about. Eddie. Not Scotty. _Eddie. _Was she really that cheap? That easy? Did their relationship really mean so little to her that she'd kiss the first available guy at the first available opportunity, just because Eddie wasn't around? Was she really so stupid as to jeopardize her partnership—her _friendship—_with Scotty, just because she was feeling a little lonely?

She dug the pendant into her thumb so deep she feared its imprint would be permanent.

Next to her, Scotty cleared his throat. "Lil…about last night…"

Her stomach began to churn. "Yeah…"

"It was a mistake."

Dark eyes darted in her direction, eyes that made her start to melt…to remember…

"Yes." She forced the word out. "Yes. It was. And—and it didn't…_mean_ anything. Did it?" Panic surged through her.

"No," he replied quickly, his eyes firmly on the road ahead. "No, of course not. It was just…"

"Yeah." The memories made her feel hot all over.

The light was red, and he slowed the car to a stop, then kneaded the steering wheel beneath his palms. "Look, I need to apologize. You were drunk, you were sad, and I—I had no right to do what I did, to take advantage of you…"

She threw a startled glance in his direction. _He _was apologizing?

Wait, of course he was. She should've known he'd play the guilt card. And it was ironic, really. The person who had no reason to feel guilty did, whereas the one who had a flannel-clad, appletini-loving reason to feel guilty was, at the moment, feeling shockingly less of that emotion than she should.

Her hand darted out with the intention of resting on Scotty's arm, of reassuring him. She yanked it back. "You didn't take advantage of me. I...kissed you, too, remember?"

Desire flared in his eyes. He remembered, all right.

The light turned green, and he tore his gaze from hers and turned his attention back to the road.

Full to overflowing with emotions she didn't even know how to identify, Lilly sighed and fiddled with her necklace. "Look, Scotty…kissing you was…" _Amazing. Breathtaking. Unbelievable. Earth-shattering. _"Nice."

"Nice. Yeah." The glance with which he graced her suggested that he, too, was settling for far less than the word he wanted to use.

"But we can't." She had to throw cold water on the fire that was crackling between them.

"No." His agreement was quick and sharp. "Absolutely not."

"Lots of reasons."

"Exactly. We're partners."

"Friends."

"You're seein' someone." Was it her imagination, or had he said that through gritted teeth?

It didn't matter. It _couldn't _matter. She squeezed the diamond into her thumb again, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. She was with Saccardo. Who was sweet, and funny, and kept her on her toes, and—and she _wanted_ to be with him. She liked him. He was fun. She hadn't smiled this much since…well, she couldn't remember. Too long.

"And, y'know, this doesn't have to change anything," Scotty was saying. "We're still friends, right?"

The hope in his eyes as he looked over at her brought a smile to her lips.`

"Yeah. Definitely. Friends."

He grinned his satisfaction, and damn those appealing twinkles in his dark eyes. Damn that deep dimple in his right cheek. Damn her for being so susceptible to it. Damn, damn, damn.

"Friends…who don't kiss," she made herself say.

That grin widened. "Well, yeah."

"What happens in New York stays in New York."

"Exactly that." His dazzling smile dissolved some of the awkwardness between them. "Anyway…I'm sorry."

Once more, she resisted the temptation of a reassuring touch. "Yeah. I'm…I'm sorry, too."

"So we're good?"

"Yeah, Scotty. We're good."

"Good."

And then they lapsed into silence. A silence that stretched too long. It just sat there, thickening. Congealing. Scotty cleared his throat a time or two, drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he inched forward in traffic. And Lilly tried not to watch those fingers. Tried not to remember how they felt running through her hair, caressing her cheek, her neck, her collarbone…

A horn honked, startling her from her reverie, and she glanced around, looking for some distraction. Any distraction.

Suddenly, she remembered her freshly-autographed copy of _Rifles and Rings_ and leaned forward to grab her purse off the floor. "Hey, ever since I got my book signed, I've been dyin' to reread it. You mind?"

Scotty looked a little relieved. "Long as you don't get carsick."

She smiled. "Deal."

"Okay if I turn on the radio?" His hand was already halfway to the button.

"Go ahead." She suppressed the sigh that longed to escape as a toothpaste commercial filled the air and she dug in her bag for the comfort of her favorite novel.

It was better this way. Really. It was. The more miles she and Scotty put between themselves and New York and that dimly-lit hotel hallway, the closer things would be to normal. And they would get back to normal. They would. She was sure. Nothing had changed. Not really. And nothing had to.

But she couldn't fight a nagging feeling, as the commercial ended and the familiar guitar intro to "Hotel California" filled the air, that maybe everything already had.


	14. Lovers Who Wander

**A/N: **Congratulations to my New England Patriots on winning their fourth Super Bowl title last night!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen<strong>

**Lovers Who Wander**

The clank of the blinds against the office door drew a quiet sigh from John Stillman's lips as he tried to concentrate on the pile of paperwork on his desk. Sometimes, the lieutenant was convinced his job was nothing but a series of interruptions, interrupted by other interruptions. Finishing the line he was scribbling through, he glanced up, expecting to see one of his detectives. Maybe someone from the DA's office.

He certainly was not expecting to see the Deputy Commissioner.

Stashing his pen in its holder, Stillman quickly rose to his feet. "Deputy Commissioner Hudson. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Smiling, Hudson extended a nut-brown hand. "Please. After all these years, you know you can call me Jack."

"I know. Reflex." Stillman returned his superior's handshake, then sat back down at his desk. "I see a uniform and I go formal."

"No need for that today." Hudson settled into one of the chairs opposite Stillman's desk.

The two men exchanged pleasantries and briefly caught up on kids and grandkids, but Stillman couldn't quite suppress the heavy dread settling in his stomach. He knew Jack Hudson well enough to know the man wasn't just here to pay a social call.

Finally, Hudson cleared his throat. "Listen, John…you and I go way back."

This abrupt transition did nothing to lighten the mood.

"Which is why I'm here." Hudson shifted in his chair. "If I may be frank?"

"Please."

"The department is looking at a major budget shortfall this next year. Larger than any we've had to overcome to date."

Stillman slipped off his glasses and laid them on his desk. "I see."

"Donations at the gala were very generous," Hudson continued. "Ralph and Gina Newman in particular."

Stillman resisted a chuckle. Ralph Newman's name might be on the check, but it was Gina who controlled the amount. Gina, who Stillman had observed sinking her cougar claws into Scotty Valens on Saturday night, just as she had last year. And, just like last year, her donation was generous indeed. Briefly, Stillman wondered just how Valens had done it, then decided that was one of those things he really didn't need to know.

"But they still couldn't make up for what's projected to be a significant deficit," Hudson was saying. "And the news isn't good. Cuts across the board."

"Sure."

"Now, we've always managed to spare Homicide in the past…"

"But not this year." The churning dread grew worse.

"'Fraid not, John." Hudson's lips tightened beneath his ebony mustache. "There's just no way we can spare any department, no matter how crucial."

Feeling suddenly weary, Stillman fixed his attention on the framed collection of war medals on the bookcase across the room. Do more with less. That was the PPD way. "What's the damage?"

"Well, budget cuts or no, the Commissioner has made it clear we can't spare any of the guys on the line. Murders happen every day, whether we can afford to solve them or not."

The weight of dread made Stillman's stomach plunge to his shoes.

"So we're asking you to make a cut in the cold case unit," Hudson said. "One detective's salary."

Stillman blew out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. One detective. He'd feared it would be worse.

"Now I've pulled some strings." Hudson leaned forward in his chair. "You won't have to lay your guy off."

Stillman's brows lifted. "No?"

Hudson nodded. "Watterson over at Northwest just put his papers in. If your guy slides over there, he can stay with the department. Same salary, pension, rank, everything except the desk here. Not as prestigious as Homicide, perhaps, but I bet you've got someone who'd be willing to make the leap."

Stillman avoided Hudson's expectant brown eyes. It was a good solution, the best possible under the circumstances, but…who could he cut? Which of the detectives—_his _detectives—could he bear to lose? Could he really say goodbye to Miller or Vera? To Will, one of his oldest friends? To Valens? Rush? Losing any of them was almost too painful to think about, but think about it he must.

Sighing, Stillman rubbed a hand over the top of his head. It was times like this that he hated being the boss.

"I'll need some time," he said.

Hudson's head bobbed up and down. "Of course. I don't envy you, John."

Stillman allowed a small, tight smile.

"But we'll need your decision by the end of the day tomorrow. If you can't find a volunteer, or if you can't make the cut yourself, then we'll have to do it for you."

Stillman nodded and rose to his feet as Hudson did the same on the other side of the desk. "Understood."

"I'm sorry." Hudson's eyes were rich with compassion. "I wouldn't be telling you this if there were any other choice."

"Sure." Stillman understood. His friend was in a tight spot, too. They all were.

But knowing that wasn't going to make his decision any easier.

* * *

><p>Scotty popped the last bite of burger into his mouth and tossed the wadded-up wrapper into the paper bag on his desk. Of course, his eyes drifted toward Lilly as he did so. He hadn't been able to stop looking over at her even before their trip to New York, and now, now that they'd been plunged deep into the ocean currents of <em>after<em>, he couldn't even try to fight it.

Stationed at her own desk a scant few feet away, she held a pair of fries almost absently in her left hand while clicking around on her computer with her right. Her gaze hadn't come anywhere near him since their return a few minutes ago to a mercifully empty office. Not that eye contact was necessary; she'd made her feelings perfectly clear in the car on the way back from New York. What they'd done together was a mistake, it was over, and she wanted nothing more than to bury it six feet deep and toss away the shovel. He'd been expecting that.

But what he wasn't expecting from her was the chilly silence. The unmistakable sense that, though she'd welcomed him into the warmth of her inmost self, sharing things with him she'd never shared with anyone else, visiting hours were over, and she was politely, but firmly, showing him to the door.

He'd forgotten how cold and lonely it could be on the outside.

Stillman's office door opened then and the boss emerged, escorting Deputy Commissioner Hudson. Wait, what the hell was the brass doing here? Scotty's brow furrowed as he considered the possibilities.

After a moment, the lieutenant came back into the office, looking pensive.

"Everything all right, Boss?" Lilly dug in the little cardboard container for the last of her fries.

"Sure. Yeah." Stillman gave the office a slow, reflective survey, then scrubbed everything but crisp professionalism from his face. "How'd the two of you make out in New York?"

Scotty froze. He couldn't look at Lilly. He couldn't. _Couldn't. _And yet his eyes cheerfully ignored his instructions. This time, she actually looked back at him. Well, for a microsecond anyway; then she jerked her gaze away with an almost audible snap, crumpling up the paper wrapper of her chicken deluxe.

"Just fine, Boss," she said easily.

"Good, good." Stillman nodded toward the interview room. "You two up for a little chat with James Fleming? He's been in the box for an hour."

"Should be good and ready to talk, then." Lilly sounded relieved.

Scotty wasn't. Because the job, even this all-consuming job, wouldn't be distraction enough. Not anymore. Not fresh off three hours of the most tantalizing torture imaginable. Lilly's sweet fragrance filling the car. Satiny wisps of blonde hair slipping from her ponytail to dance around her cheekbones and drive him to distraction. Long-lashed eyes darting to and fro on the pages of the book in which she'd lost herself. Those three hours had just deepened the feelings he shouldn't feel, increased the desire for what he shouldn't want. Her kisses had awakened a need that had hummed through his body since last night, making him unsettled. Unsatisfied.

So being near her right now, even in a professional setting, wasn't going to help. If anything, it would just make things worse. She wanted nothing more than for everything to go back to the way it had always been between them, and for her, he was sure they could. But if he had any hope of reining in his runaway emotions, he needed to create some space.

"Mind if I sit this one out, Boss?" he asked.

Two pairs of surprised eyes swiveled toward him.

"I didn't…sleep that good last night." This time, Scotty was the one avoiding eye contact, though out of his peripheral vision he saw a hint of color creeping into Lilly's cheeks. "Ain't at the top of my game."

"Fair enough. You can watch from Observation." Stillman turned his attention toward Lilly. "Ready, Lil?"

"Ready." Without so much as a glance in Scotty's direction, she gathered her things and rose from her chair.

Scotty waited until the door to the interview room had clicked shut, then gathered up the remnants of his lunch, tossed them into the trash can, took a deep breath, and headed into Observation.

* * *

><p>"Looks like you haven't told us the whole story, James." Lilly relished the startled expression on Fleming's face as she dropped the file onto the interview room table from high enough to create a loud smack when it hit the polished surface.<p>

He recovered quickly, though, assuming the droll mask that had been in place nearly the whole of their brief acquaintance. "Wow. It's like it's 1962 all over again." Chilly blue eyes glanced around the room. "You could at least give this place a fresh coat of paint."

To her left, the boss didn't even blink. "Well, here's something the cops didn't know in '62."

Lilly settled into the seat opposite the skeptical-looking Fleming, feeling the familiar tingle of anticipation as she prepared to level him with evidence. "Ellie was two-timing you, James."

"Unbelievable." Looking skyward, Fleming raised his hands in the air, then let them fall onto the table. "You people can't drag my reputation through the mud any longer, so now you attack her?"

"It's not an attack, James," she said quietly. "She was seeing a guy by the name of Rick Rodgers. We talked to him. Face to face."

Fleming gave a small sigh, then slipped off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "Finally. After all these years, I have a name."

"So you knew." The guilt Lilly had been waiting to feel since last night chose now to begin gnawing at her stomach. "All along, you knew she was stepping out on you."

Nodding, Fleming replaced his glasses. "Ellie was always a little…absent. Head in the clouds, nose in a book. I never felt like she was fully _there_ with me, even when we were together. But the last few weeks, she seemed…I don't know, distant, maybe? Like she was a million miles further away than normal."

Stillman approached the table and sat down next to Lilly. "Did you talk with her about it?"

"I asked her one night if she was having second thoughts." Fleming tented his fingers on the tabletop. "She said she was. And I thought that was it. Just cold feet. Normal stuff. But…then she said there was someone else. Someone she'd been friends with for a long time, but then it became more." He gave a slow, sad shake of his head. "I…didn't want to know any more than that. If—if I didn't have a name, a face, that made it…less real, somehow."

Lilly cast an involuntary glance toward the mirror, the mirror behind which she knew Scotty was stationed.

"Sounds like you got pretty upset." Stillman was saying.

"Well, of course I did," Fleming replied. "But not until after the fact, after she'd already left. At the time she told me, I was just…I was in shock. She was a little flighty, but I never for a minute thought she'd go behind my back. She just wasn't the type."

"Must've been humiliating," Lilly slipped her own discomfort into a file and slid it into a box for later. "High-profile relationship, four hundred wedding guests, and you've gotta call the whole thing off because she cheated on you?"

"No one else knew." Fleming's lips tightened. "I'd only just told my family the wedding was off when she disappeared."

"So why not tell anyone back then?" Stillman's brow creased. "Why not tell the whole story?"

"Are you kidding?" Fleming gave a bitter chuckle. "I already had cops knocking on my door every day; if I'd told them I knew she was stepping out on me? They'd have never let it go. I'd probably be in jail right now."

"You sure that's not where you belong?" With another surge of anticipation, Lilly slid a file across the table and flipped it open. "We checked on your alibi, James. And your brother finally came clean with us. He was the one who went to Detroit with your dad that night. Not you. Hotel registration confirmed it."

Fleming sighed, the sigh of decades' worth of secrets being released. "Well, then I might as well tell you the rest." Tenting his fingers again, he studied their carefully-groomed tips. "I…wasn't in Detroit that night. It's true. I was…engaging the services of a prostitute. It wasn't something I did often, and it's certainly not something I'm proud of. I didn't want to tarnish my name. My family's name. That wasn't what the Fleming name stood for."

He looked up, all the polished pride gone from his expression. "We were good people. Honest. Hardworking. My grandfather built the company from the ground up with good, solid values, and…what I did that night didn't fit in with that. But there's no reason to hide anymore. Nothing left to protect except my innocence."

"You wouldn't happen to remember the woman's name, would you?" Lilly asked.

At Fleming's nod, she slid a piece of paper and a pen across the table.

* * *

><p>Scotty's shoes tapped out a slow, steady rhythm as he paced the tile floor of the observation room. Cool and dark, its sole function was for whoever was in here to watch the goings-on in the two interview rooms; one to his left, currently unoccupied, and one to his right, containing their boss, their murder suspect, and Lilly.<p>

It was right here where he'd first met her six years back. Scotty gave a rueful smile at the memory of his younger self. Cocky. Headstrong. Ambitious as hell, determined to prove himself to whoever happened to be paying attention. That Hammond job was a bag of bones from the start, but he'd busted his ass on it anyway. Found an angle. Figured that was what got him to Homicide.

Amid the shoulder-slaps and high-fives as he packed up his desk, his buddies in Narc had cautioned him, with mischief in their eyes, to watch out for Detective Rush. From the tales they spun, Scotty was expecting some burly guy with a big mustache, one who'd been around the block and had the battle scars to prove it.

When Scotty emerged from the interview room that first morning, he hadn't even given a second look to the reed-thin, messy-haired blonde leaning against the glass, though he had noticed her noticing him. Unlike most appraisals he received from women, though, this one was cool. Critical. She'd tossed out some sparse praise about his prior case, but, strangely, she didn't seem all that impressed.

"This is Detective Rush," Stillman had told him. "Her partner transferred out. You'll be workin' with her."

Scotty wondered then if there was such a thing as mental whiplash. He'd shaken his new partner's hand, trying to wrap his mind around the stories he'd heard and the reality that was staring him in the face, peering at him through those glacial blue eyes.

He'd pictured a guy.

That was what he told her, what he kept saying to himself as he followed her in for their first interview. He'd been expecting a guy.

And, as he and Lilly fell into a groove as partners, more often than not, he did think of her as just 'one of the guys.' She wasn't sweet and ultra-feminine like Elisa. Not one for dresses or makeup or hairstyles. And just in case her appearance wasn't no-nonsense enough, her demeanor was tough. Forbidding. She'd built frozen walls around herself six feet thick, and anyone who tried to scale them would immediately be stabbed in the heart with an icicle.

But over the years, as she learned to let him in, Scotty discovered the fire behind all that ice. Curves beneath those sharp edges. Sparkling eyes and a million-watt smile. Skin softer than his favorite silk tie. Hair like heaven. And a tender, almost heartbreaking vulnerability when she'd smiled shyly up at him, then pulled him close for that first precious kiss. Her lips had trembled briefly beneath his, then parted and melted until he couldn't tell where he ended and she began. And how, _how _was it possible for something so simple as a kiss to turn his universe on its axis, to reduce him to a helpless pile of want and need and—

"Well, I heard you were back from New York, but right now I ain't so sure."

Startled, Scotty tore his eyes from the glass to where Kat Miller stood just to his right, her coffee-colored eyes twinkling with amusement. Heat crept into his neck. _Madre de Dios, _how long had he been standing there staring?

He cleared his throat. "Sorry, Miller. Guess I kinda…zoned out for a second."

"Uh-huh." Miller shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her chest. "So you ready to talk about whatever happened up there, or do I get to fill in the blanks?"

Scotty gave an uncomfortable laugh. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Oh, please. You're practically droolin', and Lil keeps lookin' up like she knows you're out here."

"She does?" His eagerness, equivalent to that of a high school freshman with a crush, was tempered with a guilty clench in his gut.

Kat laughed. She actually _laughed. _That high-pitched, hyena-like cackle she got when she'd trounced him thoroughly and knew it.

"Look…Kat." He raised his hands in self defense. "Whatever you think happened up there…didn't. Nothin' happened."

Kat's expression made it clear she knew very well what a load of bullshit he'd just attempted to feed her. "Why, because you didn't get a chance, or because you got one and didn't take it?"

Irritation flared. He'd had a chance, all right, and he'd taken it. Taken it all the way up to the sixteenth floor, with that come-hither look in Lilly's eyes and his room key in her fingers. And if her jewelry, and the jackass it represented, hadn't gotten in the way, he'd have taken that chance as far as it led. He—he'd been cock-blocked. By a damn diamond necklace.

"Oh, wait…she's still with Saccardo, isn't she? So…wait, you…and then you…and she was…and you…" Kat's index finger bounced from Scotty to Lilly and back again as a slow, sympathetic smile spread over her face. "Oh, you poor son of a bitch. No wonder you hate that barbecue-lovin' bastard so much."

This brought a grin despite everything.

"Look, Scotty…it's not like she's married to the guy." One shoulder lifted in a nonchalant shrug. "Besides, you're here, he's not. Long as that's the case…" Kat raked her eyes over him in a thorough, yet not unkind, appraisal, "I figure you got a shot."

Scotty's brows lifted. "You think so?"

Kat smiled. "Ever since I got to Homicide, I've been watchin' you two, wonderin' when you'd wake up and figure out you were more than just partners. Somethin' like that, somethin' that special…" A pensive, thoughtful look crossed her face. "It doesn't happen every day."

And suddenly, Scotty wasn't the one staring into the glass, thoughts a million miles away. That honor belonged to Kat, who fiddled absently with her necklace, an uncharacteristic softness in her features he'd previously only seen with regards to her daughter.

A smile spread slowly over his face as all the suspicions he'd had about her and Nick began to crystallize into certainty. Not only were they together, this was the real deal.

Kat….and Nick.

Miller…and Vera.

It was improbable, and yet somehow, the more Scotty rolled it over in his mind, the more sense it made. Nick, though gruff and occasionally insensitive, had a heart of gold, especially when it came to kids. And Kat…well, Kat could whip that galoot into shape in record time, and make him have the time of his life while she did it.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket then, and she dove for it. A flicker of a smile crossed her face before she pressed the button to silence the ringer.

Scotty grinned. "Tell Nicky I said hi."

Startled brown eyes flitted up his face. "No, it's not what you...it ain't...it's…Veronica. I gotta take this. 'Scuse me." And with that, she fled Observation as though shot out of a cannon.

Scotty couldn't help chuckling at her flustered reaction and rapid departure. Maybe he was hopelessly smitten with someone he shouldn't be. But he wasn't the only one.

And that, in and of itself, was an odd sort of comfort.


	15. Break It To Me Gently

**A/N: **Scotty is gearing up for some pretty big stuff in the next couple chapters, so he requested a lighter workload in this one. Once again, Kat and Vera were happy to step to the plate.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen<strong>

**Break It To Me Gently**

"Thanks so much for your time," Lilly said into the phone, then replaced the receiver into its cradle on her desk, grateful for more than one reason that the call had come to an end. It wasn't every day she had an awkward conversation with a sixty-eight year-old former call girl. Especially not one who'd gone one to marry a city councilman.

But despite the discomfort, Lilly had the answers she needed. James Fleming's admittedly squicky alibi checked out. And as gratifying as it was to put someone away for murder, there was also a definite sense of satisfaction in drawing a bold, confident strike mark through a name on her mental list of suspects.

"That sounded like a fun conversation." This from Scotty, whose pen was dashing impatiently through some paperwork.

"Oh, yeah. Call girl turned councilman's wife." Lilly reached for her coffee mug. "You can imagine how eager she was to revisit that part of her life."

"Councilman's wife?" Vera's head jerked toward them with an almost audible snap. "Which councilman?"

"The one you'd least suspect," Lilly replied over the rim of her mug.

A frown creased Vera's brow as he mentally flipped through the city council roster. "Wait…_McCracken?_ The one who raised a stink about that nude sculpture in the park?"

Lilly grinned and turned her attention back to her paperwork. "Didn't hear it from me."

"Amazing the secrets people manage to keep," Jeffries mused from his desk.

An entirely new sort of discomfort rising in her chest, Lilly cast an inadvertent glance toward Scotty. Those chocolate eyes met hers only briefly before darting away again. Clearing his throat, he turned a pointed gaze in Vera's direction. "Yeah, no kiddin'."

"You got that right." Vera refused to look up from the grease-splotched cardboard Chinese takeout container from which he was rapidly slurping some beef lo mein.

"Where's my—?" Storming in from the kitchen, Kat stopped mid-sentence, her withering glare landing on Vera's mostly-finished afternoon snack.

"Your leftovers?" Nick looked back with what Lilly was sure was his most innocent smile. "Consider it payback for that potato skin at the bar last week."

Muttering colorful insults under her breath, Kat plopped down at her desk, and Lilly couldn't help but chuckle as she turned a page in her notes. She'd decided long ago that this must be what a happy, functional family was like. Had to be. The five of them bickered and argued and didn't always see eye to eye, but they all had each other's backs, no questions asked. Even now, even after the misstep with Scotty in New York…things between them would get back to normal. She was sure of it. She just had to stop remembering that kiss, stop thinking about the heat of his lips on hers, the fevered passage of his fingers through her hair…and the alarming fact that, though she knew it was wrong for at least a dozen reasons, she wouldn't mind at all if it happened again.

The door to the lieutenant's office opened, and Lilly shook away the memories and dove back into the relative safety of their murder case.

"Fleming's not the doer, Boss," she was all too happy to report. "I talked to the call girl. She remembers him."

Stillman gave a distracted-looking nod. "Good work, Lil."

"So it ain't the fiancé…" Vera stuck the chopsticks into the remainder of the noodles and slid the container in Kat's direction. "And it ain't the boyfriend, either."

Looking first surprised, then pleased, Kat grabbed the chopsticks and dug into her leftovers.

"Guess we're back to square one." Scotty leaned back in his chair. "The hood ornament."

"Where are we on that?" Stillman asked.

"Still spinnin' our wheels." There was a slight undercurrent of frustration in Will's voice. "Shop's still closed, Big Ed still ain't callin' us back, and no one we've talked to has a clue how to reach him."

"'Bout the only thing we can do is what we've been doin'," Kat piped up. "Goin' through these dusty old interview reports and tryin' to track down the original witnesses. Maybe someone remembers somethin' they didn't back in '62."

"Well, just keep digging. Right now, it's all we've got." Something about the lieutenant's demeanor seemed a little off. Glancing up, Lilly caught him looking around the room, a thoughtful gaze resting on each of them in turn.

Her brows lifted. "Everything all right, Boss?"

With a heavy sigh, Stillman rubbed a hand over the top of his head. "I need everyone's attention, please."

Dread coiled in Lilly's stomach as she watched the boss slip off his glasses and gently toss them onto a nearby desk.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it." Stillman took a deep breath. "I've been informed by the deputy commissioner that we have to make a cut in this unit. One salary has to be eliminated."

His words were a punch to the gut. For a moment, all Lilly could do was absorb the blow. Her colleagues seemed to be in a similar state of slack-jawed shock.

Scotty was the first to break the stunned silence, though his voice sounded a million miles away. "So that's it? Just like that, one of us is outta here?"

"I'm afraid so, Scotty. If there was any other way, we'd be pursuing it."

They all spoke at once then, short, guttural exclamations of disbelief and outrage. Lilly tried to join the chorus, but no words would come.

Stillman held up a hand to quiet the din. "There's a silver lining, should you choose to look at it that way. Northwest Detectives has an immediate opening, and I'm told the one who leaves here will be offered that spot."

"Northwest?" Vera scoffed. "You mean someone's gotta go from Homicide to solvin' break-ins in Chestnut Hill? How's that a silver lining?"

Stillman arched a brow. "Better than havin' to turn in the badge altogether, Nicky."

"So who is it, John?" Jeffries finally gave voice to the question that darkened every eye, tightened every jaw. "Who's the one?"

"I have to submit my decision by the end of the day tomorrow. If...anyone wants to volunteer, that'd make this a little easier." The boss gave a small, tight smile.

"You serious, Boss?" Kat blinked up toward the lieutenant. "You'd take a volunteer?"

"Gotta take someone, Miller." Stillman glanced around the room again. "Think it over. If anyone's willing to transfer voluntarily, I'll need to hear from you by noon tomorrow." With that, he retreated back into his office, his relief evident even in the clatter of the blinds against the glass door.

Lilly stared at her desk, her vision of its smooth, paper-covered surface blurred through scalding tears. Her colleagues. Her family. This—this couldn't be happening. It _couldn't. _Whose absence wouldn't be noticed? Whose departure wouldn't gouge a hole in the hearts of the rest of the squad? Will, another in a series of father figures, the calm, seasoned, steadying presence in the group. Kat, whose maternal instinct bled into her job, as much as she tried to fight it. Nick, whose humor, inappropriate as it sometimes was, kept them all from taking life too seriously. And Scotty…oh, _God_. She felt sick. Gutted. No matter which of them left, she'd feel like someone had taken a swipe at her midsection. A piece of her heart.

She glanced around, lanced by fresh pain at the stunned expressions on all her colleagues' faces. She wanted to cling to each one of them, to pull them all into a bubble where nothing could get to them and threaten what they'd built together. It was too painful to think about the fact that soon, she'd be looking around their little cluster of desks, and one of these faces wouldn't be looking back at her.

Unless…unless she was the one the boss chose to take.

No. _No. _Stillman wouldn't do that…would he? She'd never wanted special treatment, never wanted to be the lieutenant's pet, but she couldn't imagine him sending her away. Not after everything they'd been through.

But who would he take instead?

Scotty's chair scraped against the floor as he stood up from his desk. The muscle in his jaw twitched in rapid rhythm; his eyes were dark as coal.

"I'm gonna go cut Fleming loose." Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, her partner made a beeline for the interview room, clear by his actions that he wanted out of here. Away from it all.

Lilly didn't blame him.

"This is _bullshit_!" Vera's explosion gave voice to all their thoughts.

"Oh, I don't know," Jeffries said slowly, his eyes still on the interview report he was filling out. "Might be the kick in the ass I need."

Lilly frowned in his direction. "Thinkin' about takin' Boss up on his offer?"

"Nah. Thinkin' about…hangin' it up for good."

"You serious, Will?" Kat's furrowed brow was a mirror image of Lilly's.

"I'm not gettin' any younger." Will's smile was melancholy, but still warm. "And this job's not gettin' any easier. Maybe I oughta pack it in. Do some travelin' while I still can."

"Don't book that beach house just yet." Kat's quiet comment was punctuated by the click of her computer keyboard. "Maybe I should be the one to go."

"What?" Vera's exclamation drew Lilly's attention to where he was staring at Kat, eyes wide.

Kat remained focused on her computer. "Might be better hours. More time with V."

Vera looked stung, and Lilly fought back a wave of fresh tears. He'd been right earlier. This was bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit.

Maybe Scotty was on to something. Getting away from all this. Flinging himself headlong into the job while they all still had it. And so Lilly did the only thing she knew to do. Retracting her tears, she stuffed her emotions down deep where they couldn't bother her, grabbed another file from the box, flipped it open, and kept digging.

* * *

><p>Nick Vera waited approximately sixteen nanoseconds after Kat left her seat, coffee mug in hand, before following her into the kitchen. He didn't care that they were still at work. He didn't care that someone might overhear their conversation. She'd tossed out that verbal hand grenade, the one about maybe volunteering to leave the squad, and he wanted to know what the hell was up with that.<p>

Kat had her back to him as she stood at the coffeemaker, pouring her refill, and he took advantage of a few quick seconds to gather his composure and take a deep breath. Being combative wasn't likely to get any answers out of her. He'd learned that the hard way.

"So you're really thinkin' about it?" Dammit. That came out sounding a little more desperate than he'd have liked.

Avoiding his eyes, she turned, grabbed a coffee stirrer, and swirled it around in her cup. Pointlessly, since he knew she took her coffee black. "Might be a better move than stayin' here."

"Not career-wise." His stomach churned with suspicion. "Unless…this ain't really about havin' more time with Veronica."

The look on her face told him all he needed to know.

"Wait, is this…" he glanced around the office and lowered his voice. "About me? About…_us?_"

Kat's head snapped up in horror at that last word. "Not here," she hissed.

Abandoning her coffee, she headed toward the exit. A glance over her shoulder indicated that he should follow, which he did, the churning in his gut growing faster and less comfortable with each footstep. He felt like he was on his way to his own execution.

By the time they reached the conference room, Nick had managed to install his defenses. Shutting the door behind them, he turned to face Kat. "So's this your way of callin' it quits? Adios? Sayonara?"

"_What?!_"

"'Cause…I thought we had a good thing goin'."

Her eyes widened. "What? Nick, no…it's—it's _because _we have a good thing goin'."

"It's goin' so well we can't work together anymore, is that it?" Shit, this woman was confusing.

Kat sighed and leaned on the conference table for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was thick and quiet. "I didn't wanna do this, all right? I didn't wanna get…involved…with anyone from work. Especially after Jarrod, I just…couldn't afford any more screwups."

"Great. So this is a screwup. Thanks."

The flash of hurt across her face let him know he'd gone a step too far. "Goddammit, Nick, will you shut up and let me explain?"

Wise enough by now to remain silent, Vera just spread his hands.

"You're not the screwup, all right?" She fixed him with that wide-eyed look he could never resist. "It's _me_. The first time we're out together, in public, around our friends, as a couple, and I—I was so nervous I got drunk and sang along with Aretha Goddamn Franklin. On a _table._"

"No one thinks less of you for that," Vera said quietly. "Hell, I thought it was adorable. And hot."

She tossed him a brief glare.

"And I don't know much about music," he continued, "but…I love your voice."

For once, he'd come up with the right thing to say, as there was that wide-eyed hopeful look again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Slowly, he came around to the other side of the conference table and gently grasped Kat's wrist. "And I kept an eye on you. We didn't blow our cover."

"How can you be sure?" she asked. "I wasn't so drunk I didn't notice you chuggin' Jack and Cokes all night."

"Then you mighta been drunker than you thought." Vera flashed a proud grin. "I had one beer when we got there. The rest was just Coke. No Jack. Scout's honor."

Kat smiled, then lowered her head, her gaze landing where his hand rested on hers. His eyes fell there, too. He marveled at the stark contrast between his thick, rough, pale beige fingers and her delicate, smooth hand, the color of a cup of coffee with just the right amount of cream. Skin was only the beginning of their differences, the opening salvo in the litany of reasons why they shouldn't work, why they couldn't work…and yet here they were. Working.

He hoped.

"It was sweet of you to keep an eye on me," she said quietly. "But you shouldn't have to. "

"I don't mind."

"I know. And it's not you I don't trust, all right?" She took a deep, shuddering breath, then glanced up, her expression sheepish. "I—I have a real hard time bein' professional around you, y'know?"

Whoa. That was unexpected. Her admission hanging in the air above them, shimmering and delicate, Vera waited, unsure whether now was when he should attempt to say something, or whether she still wanted to say more.

Sliding her hand from beneath his, she took a couple steps back and turned away from him, shaking her head. "I didn't wanna fall for anyone. Not again. Veronica and I…we made a life together, and it worked. I thought it did, anyway." She turned to face him. "And you were the last person I thought I'd fall for."

"Overweight, underpaid white guy, right?"

That beautiful smile bloomed on her face. "Right."

"Hey, I never thought I'd fall for you, either."

"Broke single mom, pain-in-the-ass kid?"Another smile, but this one was overlaid with a touch of fear. "But I did. And I fell harder than I ever thought I could. Harder than I ever wanted to."

Each thing she said touched him more deeply than the last. He swallowed hard. "Me, too."

"But my track record, Nick? It's crap. Yours ain't much better."

He couldn't argue.

"And…and if we screw this up, if this doesn't work, I—I don't know how I'd be able to come in and see you every day." Kat was shaking her head again, her heavy mass of hair swishing against her blouse, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a terrified rush. "I don't…know how I could come back from that."

Her words landed square in the center of Vera's heart, in a place where he couldn't recall anyone else ever being. Kat Miller was scared. Miller. The badass who wasn't afraid of anything. Or so he'd once thought. But now that he knew her better, now that she'd let him in, he knew that this thing between them, this precious, precious thing they hadn't quite figured out how to name…this thing scared her more than any jacked-up gangbanger or soulless serial killer ever could.

Coming up behind her, he laid his hand on her shoulder as gently as he knew how. Her head snapped up and then she turned toward him. "I'm terrified, Nick."

"I know," he whispered, rubbing his hands lightly over her upper arms. "Me, too, all right? Dunno if that helps."

Without a word, she leaned forward slightly and rested her forehead against his shoulder. His heart melting into a puddle of goo, he wrapped her in an embrace and laid his chin on top of her head.

"Hey. Look. If you're this freaked out about it, y'know, then…hell, I'll be the one to transfer out."

She pulled back to look at him. "You'd do that?"

Hell, the way she was looking at him right now, he'd do just about anything.

"Well, yeah. I mean…I've been in Homicide nine years. Pretty much seen it all. But you? You just got here, and I know how much it means to you. And as long as I've got you, and as long as I've still got my badge, I'm good." A corner of his mouth quirked. "Even if it is just solvin' break-ins in Chestnut Hill."

Kat stepped back, looking stunned. "Nick…"

"Think about it, all right? 'Cause I think we can make it work either way. It's been fine this far." He brushed his thumb across her velvety cheek. "But if you still think we've got a better shot if we don't work together, then you just say the word and I'm gone."

Her eyes went wide again.

"From the squad, I mean. Not from you." Smiling, he looked deep into those never-ending dark eyes and shook his head. "Never from you."

Kat looked to and fro, then stretched up for a quick kiss. At least, she probably intended it to be quick. But, just like that first hesitant, half-drunk kiss from two months back, this one rapidly melted into another, longer kiss. And another. And another, until he couldn't tell when one ended and the next began.

If he'd had his way, they'd never end at all. But he sensed her pulling back, and he let her go. Reluctantly.

He may have released her from their kiss, but there was one thing Nick Vera was suddenly crystal-clear about. He wasn't letting her go for real. Not anytime soon.

Maybe not ever.


	16. Can't Help Falling In Love

**A/N: **A belated happy Valentine's Day (or Valens-tine's Day, if you prefer) to all of you! Thank you all for your continued support and enthusiasm for this story!

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><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen<strong>

**Can't Help Falling In Love**

_Wise men say only fools rush in  
>But I can't help falling in love with you<em>

The clatter of Lilly's phone as she dropped it back into its cradle was the perfect soundtrack to her frustration. "Well, that's another dead end."

"Yeah. Here, too." Scotty sounded just as exasperated as she was.

"Witness remembers less now than she did in '62. Which isn't saying much." Lilly picked up her pen and scratched through the latest name on her list of potential witnesses.

"Least you got to talk to yours. Mine died eight years ago." Glancing up, he flashed a wry grin as he crossed off a line on his own list. "So, y'know, like you said. Dead end."

She smiled back at him, then switched her gaze to the windows behind him, where the darkened cityscape and twinkling lights served as a stark reminder of just how long it had been since she'd eaten.

"I'm gonna take a break." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "Wanna grab some dinner?"

An odd look crept across her partner's chiseled features. "Nah. Still got half a dozen names to get through." Avoiding her eyes, he picked up the phone and glanced toward the scribbled sheet of paper to his left.

Well, that was different. Usually she was the one who had to be pried away from her desk with a crowbar.

"Want me to bring you something, then?"

His index finger jabbed at the keypad. "Too beat to think about food." He glanced up with a small smile. "Thanks, though."

"Okay." Slowly, she removed her overcoat from the back of her chair and shrugged into it, swallowing disappointment that felt like a golf ball going down her throat. They'd done remarkably well today, considering what had happened less than twenty-four hours ago. She supposed under normal circumstances she'd count it as a win and be willing to be patient, to allow their relationship to restore itself naturally…but now, thanks to the budget cuts, there was change in the air. Huge, disconcerting, terrifying change. She felt adrift in a sea of chaos, longing for the life preserver that was her friendship with Scotty.

Lilly jerked her ponytail free from the neck of her coat, suddenly irritated with herself. With him. With the whole damn situation. Why had she let herself drink so much last night? Why had she let herself give in to something so…base? So unprofessional? So unlike her?

Watching him sit at his desk, the phone to his ear, his pen tapping against its surface as he waited for someone to answer, Lilly ached to press the rewind button. To go back twenty-four hours and do her drinking in her hotel room instead. If she'd never gone down to the bar last night, she'd never have run into Scotty. They'd never have kissed. And she now she wouldn't be standing here, needing the cozy, reassuring warmth of his friendship and getting instead the emotional equivalent of his voice mail.

With an angry sigh, Scotty banged the receiver back down into the cradle. "No one home."

She knew the feeling.

Stillman's door clanked open then, and Lilly's stomach lurched at the sight of him. The weary lines in his face, the grim set of his mouth. He looked like he'd aged five years in the past five hours. Part of her wanted to race over to him, protocol be damned, and give him a hug, while the other part nearly vibrated with impatience. Had anyone volunteered yet? Was his decision made? Did he know who he was sending to Northwest if no one stepped forward? Would he tell her if he had?

"Hey, Boss," she said as lightly as she could.

He stopped in front of her, and his expression softened. "I was pretty sure you'd still be out here."

Her heart squeezing painfully, she gave a slow, sad smile. "Where else would I be?"

Stillman looked from her to Scotty and back again. He seemed about to say something, then gave his head a brief shake. "Just got an interesting phone call."

"Yeah?" she asked. "Interesting how?"

"An anonymous tip called in on the King job." Stillman rested his briefcase on the edge of the desk. "Guy says he remembers somethin' about Ellie, wants to meet you in front of the Museum of Art in half an hour."

"What, _now_?" Scotty looked up from his desk, the receiver wedged once more between his ear and his shoulder. "They got somethin' to say, why not come in to Homicide tomorrow and say it?"

What the hell was his problem? They had a tip, a real tip, and he was nit-picking the timing? The location?

"Some witnesses aren't as comfortable here," she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "You know that as well as I do."

"Well, I don't like it." He graced her with a sulky glance, then started to dial another number.

"You don't have to like it," she snapped. "I'll go check it out."

"By yourself?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Well, yeah." He looked at her for a moment as though the solution were obvious, then hung up the phone and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "I'm comin' with you."

"You don't have to come look out for me, Scotty. I'm a big girl." She threw a glance toward the lieutenant, hoping he'd back her up, only to find him peering over the rims of his glasses in that quasi-fatherly way he sometimes had about him.

"Might not be a bad idea, Lil," he said. "Never know what you might run into out there."

Lilly sighed. Apparently, for however long she and Scotty worked together, this was how it was going to be. Their beautiful friendship, the one that had made her partner's over-protectiveness something she could put up with, seemed to have been ruined by that moment of weakness in New York.

Oh, she was tired. So damn tired of everything. The frustration, the tension between them, the cloud of uncertainty hanging over the squad, and her own helplessness to do anything about any of it. She just wanted everything back the way it was. Back to normal.

But normal seemed to have spread its wings and flown away, leaving her with—with _this. _

Well, then…she was just going to have to make the best of _this. _

Setting her jaw, Lilly flung her scarf around her neck. "Fine. Come on, Scotty. Let's get this over with."

* * *

><p>Scotty watched his partner complete another lap of the street corner in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art on that chilly, mist-shrouded evening. Looking around with ill-disguised impatience, Lilly then glanced at her watch for at least the fifth time since they arrived at their supposed meeting place. If her watch said anything close to what his did, their witness—if there even was one—was almost twenty minutes late.<p>

A few feet away, Scotty retraced his own steps, every sense on high alert as he watched the passersby. An older woman in a knit cap tried valiantly to keep up with an enthusiastic Labradoodle. A small group of hoodie-clad teenagers walked together, though their eyes were glued to their phones and their ears were plugged with earbuds. And, of course, even at this late hour, because it was the Museum of Art, a glut of Asian tourists clustered on the steps Sylvester Stallone made famous, chattering excitedly and taking pictures of each other.

So many things weren't adding up. Their witness had left no name. No contact number. No identifying details. That plus the fact that they'd been waiting for nearly half an hour now led Scotty to conclude that they weren't really waiting for a witness. Not tonight. No, tonight it was just some crackpot who'd seen the story about Ellie King's case on the eleven o'clock news and thought it the height of hilarity to yank on the strings and watch a couple of murder cops dance.

Considering the alternatives, though, a deranged TV news addict with too much free time was probably one of the better-case scenarios. Best case, of course, would be if there were an actual witness with actual helpful information. But when compared to all the other possibilities Scotty's runaway imagination had managed to construct during their wait here in front of the museum, a wild goose chase seemed like second best.

He could live with second best.

"You can leave if you want." Lilly gave her watch another pointed glance. "I know you're tired and all."

There was a knife-edge to her voice, one that Scotty didn't miss, and one he was pretty sure he knew the source of. She'd acted cold and snippy toward him ever since he turned down her dinner invitation, and he supposed she had a right to. He'd never begged off a shared meal like that, at least, not with such a flimsy excuse.

And it wasn't that he didn't want to go with her. He did. Oh, how he did. The idea of sitting across a table from her, watching the sparkles in her eyes, talking, sharing a few laughs…that sounded like heaven. But he was pretty sure she was just asking in the spirit of innocent companionship, in an attempt to restore their pre-kiss friendship. To make everything go back to the way it was.

But he couldn't do that. Not with her. Not anymore. Not with all these feelings whirling and churning and slopping around inside him.

And especially not with the announcement the boss had made that afternoon. A cut in the unit. One detective. Gone. Scotty was still having a hard time accepting it as reality, but the look he'd glimpsed in Lilly's eyes told him she wasn't. She was devastated. This squad was a family, and tearing it apart would hurt like hell no matter who left…but this was Lil's _only _family. As painful as it was for him to think about, it had to be even worse for her.

He'd wanted so badly to comfort her that afternoon, to reach across the desk and take her hand, to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. But, even if those things weren't against every rule in the book, doing so would've tattered what little remained of his resolve. She'd have looked up at him with those big blue eyes, just like she did last night in New York. And, just like last night, he'd have let himself go places he shouldn't go. Feel things he shouldn't feel. Especially since Lilly had made it perfectly clear that kissing him was nice, but meaningless.

He supposed he should offer some sort of explanation. Try to clear the air.

"Look, Lil, about dinner—"

Startled blue eyes flickered in his direction. "Forget it."

"I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Scotty," she said, in a tone of voice that meant it was anything but. "We don't have to talk about it."

That was what her lips were saying, but those beautiful eyes begged to differ. They searched his face, seeking an explanation. Seeking reassurance that they were okay, that nothing had changed between them, that everything could go back to normal.

Reassurance he couldn't give.

"Sorry." She broke their gaze with a frustrated sigh, then fixed her attention on some distant point down the street. "I guess I'm just…the budget cuts, y'know?"

"I know." Her hand was just a few inches from his. He could reach out and grab it. Feel its softness against his palm, stroke the back of it with his thumb…

"Can't picture comin' to work and not seein' one of 'em." Lilly turned away and started pacing the street corner again, her steps quick and agitated. "But Will's thinkin' about retiring anyway—"

"He is?"

"And Miller might take the job in Northwest 'cause of Veronica—"

"Wait, _what?"_ What else had he missed when he escaped the squad room to tell James Fleming he was free to go?

"And I can't picture one of 'em bein' gone, can't imagine anyone actually wanting to leave, but if no one does…" Lilly broke off with a bitter, humorless laugh. "Boss is gonna have to just—just _pick _someone, and I can't hope it's any of 'em, but if I hope it's not anyone, then I gotta hope it's...me."

"You really think he'd pick _you_?" That was about as likely as the Chicago Cubs winning the World Series.

"Well, he's gotta take someone." One shoulder lifted in a slight shrug. "Why not me?"

"'Cause you're our heart and soul, and you know it. Hell…without you, there wouldn't even _be_ a cold case unit." Her wide-eyed, trusting expression was another dagger to the scant remains of Scotty's defenses. He tried to hide behind a chuckle. "It's the rest of us who's gotta worry."

"Pretty sure you're safe," she countered. "Boss wouldn't break us up. I mean…look how great we are together."

She'd said _are, _not _were…_but he heard the uncertainty in her voice all the same.

He nodded. "We make a good team."

Lilly stepped toward him, clear by her expression that she wasn't going to let him brush it off that easily. "Scotty, I wouldn't be half the detective I am without you."

"Bet you wouldn't have said that six years ago." He grinned. "Saddled with that know-it-all kid from Narc who thought he was too good for the cold jobs?"

"Oh, you came around." Her lips curving, she reached forward and gave the end of his scarf a gentle tug. "Eventually."

The soft golden light of the street lamp they stood under made the mist sparkle on her hair and gave her skin an almost ethereal glow. The chill in the air had turned her nose and cheeks pink. The blue woolen scarf she wore made her eyes shine like sapphires. Scotty's heart swelled at the sight of her. God, she was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt.

Breaking their gaze with a short, quiet sigh that puffed up clouds of vapor around her face, she stepped back, and Scotty could breathe again.

"I don't know, it's just…everything's changing. With the squad, and with our jobs, and—and…" She looked back up at him then, and he gulped. The memory of their kiss was swirling in the oceans of her eyes. "And _everything_, Scotty."

Out of the maelstrom of his emotions, he managed to pluck a little guilt. "I'm sorry, Lil."

"Yeah. Me, too."

That was what her words said, anyway. But, to his astonishment, her expression said anything but. She wasn't looking at him with guilt or regret. She wasn't looking at him like she wished they'd never kissed. In fact, it was the opposite. Her eyes were blue flames, unmistakably flitting down to his lips. Unconsciously, he licked them, remembering what she felt like, what she tasted like.

Scotty gritted his teeth at the fire that shot the length of his body. He longed to trace a fingertip over the ridge of her delicate cheekbone and into the hollow beneath it, then follow it with his lips. He didn't want to stop there, either. He wanted to trail kisses down her neck. Her shoulders. Her arms. Every last inch of her, right here in front of the goddamn _Rocky _steps.

_Madre de Dios, _he was out of his mind. His heart was hammering like he'd gone ten rounds with the punching bag. His mouth felt stuffed with cotton. He was hot all over despite the evening's chill. He—he hadn't felt like this since…Elisa.

And suddenly, with crystal clarity, Scotty knew. Those feelings that had been swirling and simmering inside of him since Saturday finally had a name.

Love.

He was in love with Lilly. He _loved _her. Wholly. Completely. Everything about her, from the silken wisps of blonde hair dancing around her cheeks to her beautiful mind to her battle-scarred heart.

When the hell had this happened? A week ago, she was just…Lil. His partner. His friend. And yet she wasn't 'just' either of those things. She couldn't have been. This love, this precious, painful love he'd just discovered must have been waiting there like the craftiest of thieves, sneaking in to steal what little remained of sanity and common sense. And now, now that it was here, out in the daylight, Scotty wasn't sure how he was standing up under it.

Lilly was still looking at him, though the desire in her eyes was now mingled with more than a hint of curiosity. Her brow was slightly creased, that beautiful half-smile suspended on her face.

Scotty blew out a breath and offered what he hoped was a reassuring grin. He had to tell her. Needed to tell her. Maybe she'd flip out. Maybe she'd try to let him down easy. Maybe she'd tell him she felt the same, and ask what the hell took him so long. He didn't know. But whatever happened, he needed to get it out in the open. He needed to be honest with her.

He had to tell her, or he'd explode.

Swallowing hard, he reached for her hand. "Lil, I—"

The throaty purr of a Ferrari just behind him and off to his left stole the words he was about to say. Bursting through the mist, it pulled up to the curb, the window slid down…and a familiar voice called from the darkness within.

"Hey! Gorgeous!"

And suddenly everything shattered.


	17. You Beat Me To The Punch

**A/N: **Welcome aboard, new followers! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen<strong>

**You Beat Me To The Punch**

.

Scotty froze, his pulse pounding at the unwanted intrusion. It couldn't be Saccardo. It _couldn't _be. He was supposed to be in deep. So it couldn't be him. It was just some other big-voiced Italian jackass who thought his fancy sports car gave him license to summon a woman like he was calling a dog. Scotty was sure he and Lil would have a good laugh about it later. After he told her he loved her.

But the self-assured, swaggering footsteps behind him sounded familiar. Heavy. Booted.

They sounded like those goddamn Timberlands.

Lilly's gaze shifted from Scotty to a spot over his left shoulder. Her eyes widened; her mouth fell open. "Eddie…"

"Told you I'd blow into town under cover of darkness." Saccardo looked enormously proud of himself, with his shit-eating grin and the casual way he pressed the remote control on the keychain of that fire-engine red Ferrari 599 GBT Fiorano. The hell? Did Eddie Saccardo have an in with some exotic car rental place?

Lilly looked like she still wasn't sure whether or not she was dreaming. "What are—what are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine." Saccardo brushed past Scotty and slid his hands around Lilly's waist. "Gotta confess somethin', though."

Lilly smoothed the lapels of Saccardo's worn-looking tan coat. "What's that?"

"I lied to your boss. I don't know a damn thing about your case."

Scotty tried, but failed, to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He'd known from the beginning that their "anonymous tip" was crap. He'd just grossly underestimated the specific kind of crap it'd turn out to be.

Lilly's brows lifted. "So you're the witness I'm supposed to be meeting here?"

"How do you like that?" A smirking Saccardo pulled Lilly closer. "I managed to dupe the great Detective Rush."

Lilly laughed, then slid her hands from Saccardo's lapels to his shoulders, then up further to rest at the back of his neck. Those same delicate hands had done the same thing to Scotty not even twenty-four hours ago. He could still feel the heat of them.

"I can't believe I'm seeing you." She shook her head in amazement. "Here. So soon."

"Yeah, well…" Gazing into Lilly's eyes, Saccardo reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "You got a way of makin' a guy wanna go AWOL just to spend time with you."

She responded with that devastatingly beautiful, dimple-framed, ten-thousand-watt smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Saccardo lowered his head and lifted Lilly's chin with his fingertips, and Scotty felt sick. He couldn't look. Couldn't watch her kiss another man so casually, so readily, when he could still feel the fire of her lips on his own.

To his momentary relief, Lilly cleared her throat quietly and took a step back. When he dared to glance up at her, he was startled to see her looking back at him with guilt in her eyes. Was she feeling guilty about what she'd already done? Or what she was about to do?

"Oh. Sorry, man." Saccardo released his hold on Lilly's waist and took her hand instead. "You, uh…you mind if I borrow your partner for a bit?" He regarded Scotty with the most cursory of glances before returning his attention to Lilly, his eyes roving over her like she was an all-you-can-eat buffet. "Promise I'll have her back by sunup."

_Fuck yes, I mind._ That was the mild version of what Scotty wanted to say. His mouth opened to let the words out, but they lodged in his throat and refused to budge. Not that Saccardo expected, or even wanted, an answer, and not that any answer Scotty could come up with would make a damn bit of difference.

"Sorry I…dragged you out here, Scotty." Shifting uncomfortably, Lilly raised those large blue eyes to his. "See you tomorrow?"

He couldn't look at her. Not without his heart breaking.

"Yeah. Okay. 'Night." Scotty tugged on the sleeves of his black wool coat, addressing his reply to them instead.

"C'mon, Rush." Stepping forward, Saccardo took Lilly's elbow and guided her past Scotty down the sidewalk toward the Ferrari. "You had dinner yet? I'm starved…"

Scotty didn't wait to see her slide into that car. Instead, he took off in the other direction, around the corner to where his own car was parked. Fuming, he tore off his right glove and jammed his hand into his coat pocket, digging for his keys, but his fingertips found cool metal of a different sort. A whole bunch of skinny metal pieces, actually. Crinkled on one side, straight on the other, with rubber tips on the end. What the—?

Oh.

Bobby pins.

Lilly's bobby pins.

Scotty stopped in his tracks and stared down at them, the air leaving his lungs in a quiet puff that misted up around his face in the chilly night air. Pain welled in his heart as he remembered that magical night on his rooftop, that night that almost seemed like he'd dreamed it. Removing those pins. One by motherfucking one, fishing them out of her hair and handing them to her. His insides turning to liquid at the sound of her contented sighs. Her stuffing those bobby pins into the pocket of his coat. The coat that still smelled a little bit like her.

When he tugged that first bobby pin free Saturday night, he had no idea the quicksand that simple act of mercy would suck him into. No idea that by the last, when that glorious blonde hair was spilling over his fingers, taunting all the nerve endings of his hands with its tantalizing softness, he'd be royally screwed. Screwed into loving a woman who couldn't be his. Who, right now, was probably letting Eddie Fucking Saccardo run his clumsy, meaty fingers through those silky locks.

His stomach roiling at the unwelcome images, Scotty clenched the bobby pins in his fist so hard they dented his palm. Ten seconds. That was all he'd needed. Ten more goddamn seconds, and he'd have told her how he felt. He'd have lofted that perfect pass to the wide-open receiver in the corner of the end zone. But instead, he was sitting on the turf, having been steamrolled from his blind side by the linebacker he never saw coming. Watching that same jackass scoop up the fumbled football and sprint with it toward the other end of the field, nauseous with the knowledge that there wasn't a damn thing in the world he could do about it.

The words he'd been on the verge of saying to Lilly were stuck in his throat, swelling there until he nearly choked on them. Finally, they escaped in an angry shout as he flung the bobby pins to the sidewalk next to his car. The pins hit the ground with a chorus of tiny metallic tings, an eerie soundtrack to his frustrated heartache. Several of them bounced high in the air, landing in the grass. Diving into the sewer grate. Skittering beneath his car.

Through stinging, tear-filled eyes, he watched the remaining twenty or so glint in the streetlights for a moment, then hurled himself into the car, peeled away from the curb, and sped off into the night.

He had no idea where he was going. He just knew he had to get the hell away from here.

* * *

><p>The second the door on his side of the Ferrari closed, Saccardo was kissing her. The movements of his lips against hers were hungry. Needy. And maybe it was the shock, maybe it was that her brain was having trouble adjusting to the fact that he wasn't even supposed to be here, but somehow he <em>was<em>. Maybe it was still the stress of knowing the squad was about to change forever. Maybe it was the memory of Scotty's lips, or the odd, expectant moment right before the Ferrari pulled up to the curb, the look on her partner's face and the strange vibe between them. Maybe it was all of those things. Lilly didn't know. But something was keeping her from responding to Eddie's kiss the way she normally did. Her lips were playing along, but the rest of her was curiously absent.

Mercifully, he didn't seem to notice. Sighing with the contentment of someone who'd just devoured a giant slice of apple pie, he pulled away from her and caressed her with his gaze. "Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes."

"Everything all right?" Her brow creasing with concern, she pulled back to search his expression. His usual mask of cocky bravado was in place, but it looked as though he'd just slapped it on in a great hurry and then dashed off without double-checking it in the mirror. "Did something happen?"

A shadow danced across his face, but he quickly chased it away with a grin. "You know I can't talk about it."

"I know."

"Look, I only got a few hours on the surface, and then I gotta go back under." Saccardo brushed another quick kiss to her lips. "I probably shouldn't have come up at all, but…I needed to see you."

Lilly's eyes widened, and a slow smile crept across her face. "You missed me."

Mischief sparkled in his eyes. "Not really."

Her smile grew. He'd_ missed _her. Missed her enough to come back for her. That was what she'd always wanted, wasn't it?

And yet…it felt strangely hollow. Eddie's words had landed on her heart, but they weren't sinking in. Not the way Scotty's had, when he'd told her how he couldn't even picture a life without her in it. When he told her she was worth sticking around for.

Oh, God. She couldn't think about Scotty. Not here. Not now. If she did, Eddie would read the truth in her eyes. Suddenly, the diamond pendant felt heavy around her neck. Should she tell him what had happened in New York? He only had a few hours, and from his demeanor, he desperately needed to forget. He needed to relax, to recharge, to regroup…and her telling him that she'd made out with her partner wouldn't allow him to accomplish any of those things. Besides, that kiss was just a drunken, meaningless mistake…wasn't it?

Well. Maybe it hadn't _meant _anything. But she couldn't say it was meaningless. And for that reason, maybe she did owe it to Eddie, to herself, to Scotty, to clear the air. But was now really the best time? Was she making a big deal out of nothing? Would Eddie be upset? Did she _want _him to be upset?

Dammit. This was complicated.

She looked at Saccardo, and he back at her, each with mountains of things to say to each other, and neither one with a clue how to say them. It was…awkward with him, in a way it never had been, and she didn't know why, exactly, or what to do about it. So she leaned forward and kissed him again. His grip on her was tight. Fierce. Almost suffocating.

Her stomach growled against his ribs, and he chuckled and pulled away. "Guess that answers my question."

"What question?"

"The one about whether you've had dinner." Saccardo brought the Ferrari to roaring, rumbling life. "Hope you can hold out for a little while longer. I know this great little place down by the shore."

"The shore?" Lilly's eyes widened. "How fast _is_ this car?"

"Don't worry." He grinned over at her as he pulled away from the curb. "I said I'd have you back before sunup."

* * *

><p>The shrill cries of seagulls pierced the gentle swish of the waves as Lilly perched on a large rock next to Saccardo. Snuggled up on his right, she looked out toward the eastern horizon, where dawn stretched tentative, peachy-pink fingers out over the ceaselessly rolling gray-blue water of the Atlantic.<p>

"Haven't done this in a while," she said.

"What's that?" He glanced toward her. "Skee ball or go-karts?"

Lilly smiled. "Watch the sun come up."

"It's good." He rubbed her knee affectionately, then turned twinkling brown eyes on her. "I'm sorry I got us kicked out back there."

Lilly laughed at the memory. "You ran a ten-year-old kid off the track."

"Hey. Him or me. Punk tried to box me in." He grinned. "You should see me on the bumper cars."

Amusement warmed her heart at the thought. It had been another night of impulsive, anything-goes fun. Go-karts. Skee ball. Slot machines. Bowling. All interspersed with snacks and drinks and stolen kisses. Eddie seemed to need that release, that escape into the clanging, chaotic world of Atlantic City, the lights and the sound and the action drowning out whatever it was he was trying to run from.

She hoped it had worked for him. Because no matter how hard she tried, Lilly couldn't quite lose herself on the thrill ride that was Eddie Saccardo. Not like she had before. Maybe it was because he'd been gone, or because she knew he was leaving again, that all they had was just these few sweet hours. Maybe it was because her brain insisted on comparing the frenetic pace of a night with Saccardo to that peaceful night on Scotty's roof, where time seemed to stop and the world went still. Maybe it was because she kept hearing Scotty's words in her head, words that warned her that this relationship had a glass ceiling, and she deserved more.

Or maybe it was because she saw Scotty's face in front of her every time she closed her eyes. Felt his lips on hers every time Eddie leaned in for a kiss.

God. She really needed to tell him.

"Listen, Lilly…"

Her stomach clenched at the serious undertone in his voice, as well as the use of her first name. He'd only called her Lilly a couple times.

Wait. Dammit. He was about to break it off with her. Somewhere amid all the flashing lights and clanging bells, he must've sensed the distance between them. Could—could he guess the truth in her eyes? Did he know about Scotty?

Eddie swallowed hard. Long-lashed brown eyes focused on the Timberland boots braced against the rock. "We gotta stop meeting like this."

Lilly gave a quiet sigh and stared out at the ocean. It was as she'd feared. He was ending it. They'd given it a go, but a part-time relationship just wasn't going to work. She braced herself for the inevitable as she always did…but this impending breakup didn't seem as devastating as she thought it might. She wasn't sure why.

"Yeah," she replied. "We do."

The fabric of Saccardo's jacket rustled as he turned toward her. "So I'm thinkin' I might… talk to the boss. Tell him to make this my last undercover job."

Lilly's eyes fluttered wide. She stared at him. Was he serious?

"'Cause I think me and you could really have somethin', y'know? And…I wanna give us a shot. A real, honest-to-God shot."

Words. Words. She needed to say words. Frantically, she searched her shell-shocked brain for scraps of them in hopes of forming at least some sort of response. "Are—are you leaving the department?"

Eddie's face broke into a relieved grin as he looked out at the waves. "Nah. There's still plenty of places for someone with my…expertise. Nothin' else, I hear there's an opening over in Northwest Detectives. Maybe I'll go for that." Glancing up at her once more, he gave her knee another gentle pat. "But don't you worry about that, all right?"

The wind whipped her bangs into a blonde curtain across her eyes, and she lifted a hand to brush them back. "No, I—I'm not, I just…" That seemed to be all the words her brain could come up with, so she was left with feelings. Feelings she couldn't even identify entirely, let alone process. Eddie wanted a relationship. A real relationship. And he was willing to quit going undercover to make it happen. To change his job. The job he loved. To be near her. To give them a shot. To stay. To be around. To be here. To stop leaving.

It was what she'd always wanted. Wasn't it?

And yet. And yet she was only a day removed from a drunken makeout session with her partner, one that had undeniably gotten into her head. She really should tell Saccardo. Maybe she'd lose him. Maybe this precious thing he was holding out to her would get yanked back as quickly as it was offered.

But she had to tell him. He had to know. Had to know the whole story behind what he'd be committing to.

"Eddie, I—"

He cut her off with a slow, sweet kiss. "Don't say anything now. I still got a job to finish up, and I'm not sure how long it's gonna take. But when I'm done with Garces…you just say the word, and I'll make it happen. I'll figure out a way to be around as much as you want." He leaned in for another kiss. "Just think about it, all right?"

Stunned, all she could do was look into his earnest brown eyes and nod. "Okay, I'll…I'll think about it."

"Okay." His face split into a wide grin as he got to his feet and extended his hands to help her up off the rocks. "Well, looks like I owe Valens an apology."

The name hit her with physical force. "What? Why?"

Saccardo looked out over the ocean, glittering in the early morning's golden glow, and pulled her close. "Told him I'd have you back before sunup."


	18. Let Her Go

**A/N: **I really have nothing important to say, but I've discovered that if I don't put something at the very top, then the spacing of the chapter title gets all wonky. So, voila, a pointless author's note to correct spacing errors.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen<strong>

**Let Her Go**

_Well you see her when you fall asleep  
>But never to touch and never to keep<br>'Cause you loved her too much  
>And you dived too deep<em>

Coffee sloshed from the office carafe into Scotty's mug, the rich, aromatic steam failing to perk him up as effectively as it usually did. Moving as though programmed, he added his usual cream and sugar, stirred the coffee mechanically, and raised it to his lips without appreciation or enthusiasm. His first two cups, downed quickly in the fifteen or so minutes he'd been at work, hadn't done shit. Maybe this third one would be the charm.

He wasn't betting on it.

He'd driven back to his apartment last night in a blind rage, damn lucky not to get a speeding ticket on the way. Cop-to-cop courtesy only went so far, and the numbers his speedometer was reaching would've likely gone way beyond that point. But the universe, it seemed, was willing to extend him at least that small kindness.

Once home, he'd changed his clothes, shoved his furniture back against the walls, and gone an untold number of rounds with the punching bag. When his exhausted arms screamed their protest, he got out the jump rope and decided to abuse his legs for a while. He welcomed the quivering tightness in his muscles. The sharp pain in the ball of his left foot. The stinging sweat that streamed into his eyes. The searing ache in his lungs. Because all those physical discomforts might take his mind off the bigger, larger agony: while he was here, alone, in his apartment, Lilly was with Saccardo.

But no matter how hard Scotty pushed his body, he couldn't escape the images that insisted on flinging themselves against the walls of his brain. Lilly and Saccardo kissing. Saccardo running those thick, clumsy fingers through Lilly's beautiful hair. Lilly moaning Saccardo's name as she pressed her body against his, the indigo haze of desire in her eyes. Saccardo kissing down the center of Lilly's throat, reclaiming his territory, and not having to stop when he reached that goddamn diamond necklace.

That was when Scotty tossed the rope to the side, stumbled through a shower, and sank into bed with a bottle of bourbon and a litany of what-ifs. What if he'd said something sooner? What if he hadn't just stood there and let Lilly ride off into the sunset with Saccardo?

What if, in that empty hotel hallway in New York…what if he'd just kept kissing her?

Now, blinking against the too-bright fluorescent lights of the office kitchen, still waiting for his coffee to kick in, he tossed the stirrer into the trash, turned around…and found himself face to face with the very person whose image had haunted him all night.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey."

With a small, cautious smile, Lilly brushed past on her way to the coffee machine, leaving the barest hint of salt and sunshine in her wake. She was wearing different clothes than she had been yesterday, but it was clear she hadn't spent much, if any, time at home. Her blonde hair looked ruffled and windblown, and her face was etched with the exhaustion he knew must be showing on his own.

But her fatigue looked happy. Content. His was most decidedly not.

As she reached for the carafe, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Blue eyes darted up toward his, met them for the briefest of instants, then flitted away again, like a shy butterfly.

"Listen, Scotty, I'm, uh…I'm sorry about last night."

His stomach lurched. What was she sorry for, exactly, and why?

"Didn't mean to waste your time like that." Another tentative glance over her shoulder as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Scotty swallowed hard against a sudden thickness in his throat. "It's okay. You didn't know it was…you didn't know. Besides…partners, right?" It was a lame attempt to recapture the magic. He knew that as soon as he said it.

"Right." She turned to face him, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Anyway…hope you got some sleep."

He clenched his teeth, setting loose a mighty pounding in his temples. "Yeah. I did."

Lilly gave him that look that told him in no uncertain terms that she knew he was full of shit, but she also wasn't planning to press the issue.

"Doesn't look like you did, though." This from his masochistic side, which blurted out the words over the rim of his coffee mug before his brain had a chance to censor them.

"We went to the shore." She hesitated, as though deciding how much she wanted to share, then gave a noncommittal shrug. "Kinda turned into a late night."

The shore. Perfect.

"Listen, Scotty…Eddie's…thinkin' about makin' this his last undercover job."

Scotty's brows lifted as he lowered his mug. "No kiddin'."

"He says he…wants to be around more. To give us a real shot."

Her words were like a giant, Timberland-footed boot stomping on his chest, squashing all the air from his lungs. Saccardo. Around more. For Lilly. To give them a real shot.

"That's good, right?"

He looked up at her, fighting to keep his shattering heart from showing on his face. "Yeah, that's…that's great, Lil."

Another uncertain smile, and then she started to leave the kitchen, but paused at the doorway and turned toward him, one delicate hand resting on the frame. "Thanks, Scotty. For what you said. About me…y'know...deserving more."

The boot dug its heel into Scotty's heart and ground it to pulp. Resisting the urge to double over with the pain, he forced a sad smile. "It's the truth." At least that much was honest.

Lilly replied with a small smile, the expression in her eyes maddeningly unreadable. But before he could even hazard a guess, she drew a quick breath and dropped the veil of professionalism over whatever she was feeling.

"Finally tracked down Big Ed from the pawn shop." She gave the door frame a gentle pat. "Nicky and I are gonna have a chat with him in a few. See if he can tell us where he got that hood ornament."

Without waiting for a response—which was good, because he wasn't capable of one at the moment—she turned and headed back into the office. The noticeable bounce in her step caused her ponytail to swing back and forth as she walked. Taunting him. Not on purpose, or to be cruel. She wasn't cruel. But the situation was.

Saccardo. Around more. For Lilly.

_To give us a real shot._

What was left of Scotty's heart gave a painful twinge as he tore his eyes from her and took another mindless sip of coffee. Despite the cream and sugar he'd dumped into it, it still tasted as bitter as he felt. Wincing, he set it aside, filled with a sudden urge to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. The air in here was too thick. Too close. It smelled too much like Lilly.

Feeling suffocated, he fled the kitchen and hurried through the office to the glass door that led to the balcony.

* * *

><p>Coffee in hand, Lilly strode into the bullpen, stopping by her desk to pick up the manila folder containing the necessary information for their interview with Big Ed. She flipped it open to jog her memory, make sure she was prepared…but that conversation just now with Scotty was making it impossible for her to concentrate.<p>

She wasn't even sure why. It wasn't as though he'd made some big dramatic scene. Hell, he'd practically given her his blessing. And that seemed to be what she was stumbling over. The piece of the puzzle that just didn't make sense. She'd been expecting him to throw out an unflattering comment or two about Saccardo. Waiting for him to come up with some other reason to object to their relationship. Steeling herself for a return to the sarcastic remarks and chilly distance between them. But Scotty hadn't gone there. He'd barely said anything. She should be glad about that, she supposed…but she wasn't.

Something seemed off about her partner. Something she couldn't place. She wasn't even sure where he was at the moment. She'd told him about the interview with Big Ed, expected him to follow her into the office, to engage her in rapid-fire conversation about the case as he usually did, but he hadn't. She glanced back toward the kitchen, wondering if he was still doctoring his coffee or perhaps searching the fridge for a snack, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"You ready?" Vera's voice was close at her left. He tapped his yellow legal pad on her desk a couple times, and she snapped to attention.

"Yeah. Ready."

Vera eyed her quizzically. "Everything okay?"

Lilly dropped a mask over the exhausted confusion she knew Vera was reading on her face and instead forced a bright smile. "I'm fine."

Nick's eyes slid toward the door to the balcony, then back to her. "Yeah, right."

Why was he looking on the balcony? Was that where Scotty had gotten to? She glanced over her shoulder on the way to the conference room, but couldn't get a good look.

Setting her jaw and forcing Scotty from her mind, she gripped the file tightly and followed Vera down the hall and into the conference room. A balding, heavyset man in coveralls glanced up from the table as they entered.

"You're a hard man to track down, Big Ed," Vera said.

"Well, when the IRS is up my ass 24/7, I try to make myself scarce." Ed's leering gaze landed on Lilly, roaming over her from head to toe and missing nothing in between. "But if I knew a cop could look like her, I'd have come in a lot sooner."

Lilly ignored him, though she was fairly certain Vera gave the leg of Big Ed's chair a swift kick as he settled into the seat next to her.

"Lucky for you, we ain't interested in your back taxes," Vera said. "Just a hood ornament."

"A hood ornament?" Big Ed's bushy graying brows lifted. "You got any idea how many of those things come in and out of my shop every day?"

Lilly flipped open the file and slid the photo of Ellie's hood ornament across the table. "We're interested in this one in particular. Came off a 1962 Fleming Eagle."

Big Ed picked up the photo and studied it for a moment. "Oh, yeah. Yeah." A meaty finger tapped the photo. "I remember this one. Bought it in…'72, I think. Yeah, summer of '72. Right around the time of…whatever that thing was with Nixon. Water…something."

Lilly arched a brow. "Watergate?"

"Yeah, Watergate. That's it."

Watergate. June of 1972. Exactly ten years after Ellie's disappearance. That was probably not a coincidence.

"Don't suppose you remember anything about who you bought it from, do you?" Vera asked.

Big Ed's eyes lit up. "Oh, yeah. The redhead."

"A redhead." Lilly looked up in surprise. "A woman?"

"Real pretty one, too. Said she found the hood ornament by the side of the road and wondered how much it was worth." He grinned. "Typical female, had no idea what she was dealing with. I gave her ten bucks for it, then held on to it for a while. Figured it'd be valuable someday, and I was right. Sold it for over five hundred."

"Well, you came out ahead," Vera remarked, with a not-too-subtle withering glance.

On a hunch, Lilly pulled a photo of Ellie's ginger-haired sister, Bridget Sorenson, from the file. "Is this who you bought it from?"

Big Ed regarded the photo with interest, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's her." He leered up at Lilly. "Hard to forget a face like that."

Vera snorted. "Face. Right."

"Thanks. You've been a big help." Lilly slid the photo back into the file and stood up. As always after an interview like this, she wanted nothing more than a long shower.

"You're free to go, Big Ed." Vera rose to his feet and tapped his notebook on the table. "Good luck with the IRS."

The door clicking shut behind them, Vera turned to Lilly. "So Bridget Sorenson sold that hood ornament exactly ten years after Ellie disappeared?"

"Looks that way."

"No way is that a coincidence," Vera muttered. "And I ain't buyin' her 'found it by the side of the road' story for a second."

"Nope," Lilly agreed.

"Do we think she held onto it all that time?" Vera asked.

"I don't know," Lilly replied as they rounded the corner into the office. "But that timing? That sure sounds like a guilty conscience to me."

* * *

><p>A few fat snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, as though forced into activity before being fully awake. They melted as soon as they hit the railing of the balcony where Scotty leaned his forearms, twirling between thumb and forefinger the lone bobby pin that remained in the pocket of his overcoat. He thought he'd gotten rid of them all last night, but to his unpleasant surprise, there was one stubborn pin left, still stuck in a crevice at the bottom of his pocket. It was fitting, really, that this bobby pin was still there. Because Lilly was still there, too, lodged inextricably in his heart.<p>

Fitting, too, that there was only one bobby pin left from the dozens that had once been there, because all he had now were the remnants. A few magical days. More than a few scorching kisses. A handful of moments when it seemed like she might be feeling something, too, when he thought maybe the love that had ignited in his heart was also starting to burn in hers.

He guessed not. Not if she was going to give it a serious go with Saccardo. Never mind all the things they'd shared, all the things they'd talked about. Never mind the way she smiled at him like he was the only man in the world. Never mind that they'd kissed. Looked like he was just the guy she wanted to be with only when the guy she really wanted to be with wasn't available. _If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with_. Wasn't that how the song went?

Well. It wouldn't be like that anymore. Not if Saccardo followed through with his plan to quit going undercover. If Saccardo was around, then the small advantage Scotty had once held would be ripped to shreds.

So what the hell was he supposed to do now? How could he go on as her partner, pretending that would be enough? How could he be around her without wanting things, feeling things, aching—literally _aching_—for what he couldn't have? How could he possibly stand to see the woman who owned his heart give hers to someone else?

He—he _couldn't_. It was just that simple. He knew from his past the pain of watching, helpless, while his dreams died one by one. And he also knew he couldn't hide his feelings forever. Not from Lil. She knew him too well. And sooner or later, she'd call him out. Demand to know what the hell was going on with him. At that point, he could lie and put up a wall between them…or he could tell the truth, and ruin their friendship for good.

Not that it wasn't ruined already.

Goddammit. His grip on the bobby pin tightened to the point of pain. One unguarded moment in New York had changed everything. Permanently. There was no going back. Only forward, in a murky, muddled mess of his own making.

Unless…wait.

No. No. He couldn't do that.

Could he?

No. He couldn't. That would be going too far.

But maybe…maybe it wouldn't. Because maybe the words he'd said to Lilly when she questioned him about his disapproval of Saccardo, back before he realized the real reason he couldn't stand the guy…maybe they applied to him as well. Maybe Lilly was settling for less than she deserved…but that didn't mean he had to. He didn't have to stand around like some lovesick fool, watching the woman he adored moon over Eddie Fucking Saccardo. He didn't have to spend the next few weeks, months, years waiting for the relationship to fail and knowing that the best he could hope for was being her consolation prize.

And there was a way he wouldn't have to. A way that was being held out to him on a gleaming silver platter.

His logical side tried to wave a red flag. It was pretty drastic, what he was considering. It was a big change, with far-reaching implications. It was the kind of thing he should think over, at least, lest he regret it in the morning. But the oceans of pain crashing through him silenced even the most convincing arguments. It was drastic, yes. But it was also a cure.

And right now, he needed a cure.

His heart hammering, Scotty drew a few shaky breaths and laid the bobby pin on the concrete railing. He gazed at it for a moment, blinking back tears he tried to convince himself were due only to the frigid morning air, then turned and walked back into the warmth of the squad room and straight toward the lieutenant's office. One more deep breath, a hard swallow, and then he tugged on the door. The boss looked up at the sound.

"Hey, Boss…can I talk to you for a second?"

Stillman slipped off his glasses and laid them on the desk. "Sure thing, Scotty. Come on in."


	19. You'll Lose A Good Thing

**A/N:** The weather finally seems to be trending toward spring in these parts. Hope you're having lovely weather wherever you are, too!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen<strong>

**You'll Lose A Good Thing**

Scotty had never been one to keep many personal effects scattered out on his desk.

He supposed he might've, if he'd had a normal job. But here in Homicide, his desk was merely a place to stop and refuel before dashing off to wherever else he needed to be. It didn't define him. Didn't represent him in any way. It was just a desk, with a handful of pens, a couple coffee mugs, and a few belongings stuffed in the drawers and largely forgotten. He'd always liked it that way, for a variety of reasons.

Tonight, he was discovering a new one. It made packing up and getting out of there that much less of a hassle.

As Scotty had anticipated, Stillman was surprised to see him volunteer for the opening in Northwest. "Just takin' one for the team," he'd said, with a forced grin and a silent plea for the boss not to press the issue. And Stillman hadn't. Though he'd taken a long moment to study his detective over the rims of his glasses, the lieutenant mostly just seemed relieved to have the difficult decision taken out of his hands.

So, without further question or comment, Stillman requested Scotty's signature on a handful of forms, thumped a rubber stamp across them, and then it was done. A final handshake. Words of thanks that barely scratched the surface. And then the numb, slightly relieved emptiness as Scotty left the lieutenant's office. One that still enveloped him now as he dug around in his desk drawers and tossed their meager contents into an empty evidence box.

His workday had passed in a nearly-emotionless haze. Mercifully, he'd spent most of it out of the office and on his own, gathering evidence and helping build their case against Bridget Sorenson. His last case, of the hundreds he'd helped solve in Homicide. And he wasn't even going to be there to witness the eventual confession.

Scotty hadn't breathed a word of his decision to any of his co-workers. Waited until now, just past midnight, to come in and pack up his things. He couldn't face the squad's searching gazes and sorrowful farewells, or the big send-off he knew they'd doubtless have planned given enough notice. Boss would break the news in the morning, and then Scotty's phone would blow up with calls he wasn't going to take and texts he wasn't going to answer. Not yet. Not until he'd figured out how the hell he was going to explain it to them.

He supposed he should've at least told Lilly face to face. Surely he owed her that much. But what could he_ say_? She wouldn't buy his "taking one for the team" bullshit any more than Stillman had, but she wouldn't let it go as easily. She'd poke and prod and press as relentlessly as she would in the interview room. And when she'd broken him, when his feelings were out in the open, spilling and slopping all over the place, she'd blink, back away from the carnage, and look at him with pity in her eyes. _Pity. _That was the last thing he wanted.

So he couldn't tell her the real reason he was leaving. And any other words that might have been appropriate…thanks for everything, take care of yourself, _goodbye_…tears flooded his eyes just thinking of them. The lump in his throat swelled to gargantuan proportions. No. There was no way he could've said a damn thing to her.

Well. That was that. His desk was empty, and the box was almost that way. Just a couple notebooks, his gym bag, that fly ball he'd snatched from Vera's outstretched hands at the Phillies game and taunted him with ever since, the extra shirt he kept in the bottom drawer for all-nighters, the spare set of keys he thought he'd lost…and that was it. That was all he wanted to take with him. The rest of the stuff — the pens, the coffee mugs, the notes he'd been taking on the King job — he just left it there. He didn't need any reminders of his old life tagging along into his new one.

Despite his pain, despite his anger, he couldn't help but wonder, as he slid the box off the desk and headed for the exit, how Lilly would react. She'd be mystified, definitely. Hurt, more than likely. But, detective that she was, she'd figure it out. And surely she'd come to the same conclusion he had. It was for the best. If she wanted to give things a go with Saccardo, then she didn't need him hanging around mucking things up for her.

When he reached the door to the office, Scotty blew out a breath, took one last look around at the place that had been his professional home for the last six years, and then switched off the lights. Who knew? Lilly might even miss him.

But not the way he was going to miss her.

* * *

><p>Lilly's head throbbed in time with her steps the next morning as she stashed her belongings in her locker and headed into the kitchen, her stomach coiling with dread. Stillman's deadline from the brass came and went yesterday with no news, so whoever was leaving, Lilly was sure they'd find out today. Staunchly, she poured herself a cup of coffee and tried, once more, not to think about it. There'd be a flood of pain no matter who left, whether it was she who'd be packing up her desk or someone else…but right now, since nothing was set in stone yet, she could dam it up. And so she did, forcing a smile as she stepped into the squad room and greeted her co-workers.<p>

"Maybe it was you." Vera's piercing gaze met her from across the office. "You happen to eat a cinnamon roll this morning?"

Lilly blinked her confusion. "No…" She almost wondered how he could think about food at a time like this, but it was Nick. Of course he was thinking about food.

"What's missing now?" This from Jeffries, who'd just arrived.

Kat rolled her eyes. "His cinnamon roll."

"Well, it had to be one of you." Vera's peevish gaze darted around the room.

"Don't look at me," Kat replied without looking up. "You know I don't eat breakfast."

"Like that'd stop you."

"Y'know, I'm not the only one who steals your snacks." Kat fired a glare at Vera. "Scotty took your cheese danish last week. Ask him."

"I will when he gets here. First thing." Vera plopped down in his seat and took an unhappy sip of coffee.

Looking around at her colleagues, Lilly felt like crying. They were all trying so valiantly to act normal, to pretend it was just like any other day, but she knew the lead-like heaviness in her stomach had to have taken up residence in theirs, too. Vera and Kat's bickering had a razor-sharp edge to it, Will seemed even more pensive than normal, and Scotty…well, she'd get a read on her partner when he arrived. She glanced at the clock. It wasn't like him to be late. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well; maybe it had finally caught up with him.

Stillman emerged from his office, and Lilly's heart leaped into her throat. He scanned the bullpen over the rim of his coffee mug, but his expression betrayed nothing.

"We ready for Bridget Sorenson?" he asked.

"Ready," Lilly replied. Once they'd traced the hood ornament back to Bridget, the rest of the dominoes had continued to fall. There was a pretty convincing case against Ellie's sister. Mostly circumstantial, though, and not airtight, so to make the DA happy, they needed a confession.

"Good. Take Miller with you and get what we need." Without waiting for a response, he disappeared back into his office, and Lilly swallowed a sense of chagrined relief. It seemed the elephant in the room would be getting a bit more comfortable.

Glancing toward Kat, Lilly stood up and started to gather her things. If this was indeed her last case, or Miller's….then they were damn well going to get that confession.

* * *

><p>There were times, upon beginning an interview where the case was all over but the shouting, where Lilly couldn't wait to nail their suspect to the wall. When stolen freedom was about to come to an abrupt end, and a murderer would finally be paying for his crime.<p>

And then there were other times, times where she almost felt sorry for the suspect. Where getting a confession brought no joy. No satisfaction. Just the quiet sense of completion that came with closing a case, of doing right by the victim.

Watching Bridget Sorenson study her folded hands on top of her kitchen table, an untouched cup of tea just off to the left, Lilly wasn't sure yet which category she'd fall into. She stole a glance at Miller; Kat had interviewed Bridget before, and in the depths of Miller's cocoa-brown eyes, Lilly caught a glimpse of disappointment. A smidgen of hope that maybe they'd gotten it wrong. That maybe Bridget hadn't really killed her sister, and the real doer was still out there.

But the evidence wasn't pointing in that direction.

"Thanks for seein' us, Mrs. Sorenson," Kat said as she flipped open her notebook. "We're makin' real progress on Ellie's case. Just had a couple more questions for you."

Bridget nodded, her eyes never leaving her white linen tablecloth. She seemed to know what was coming.

"That hood ornament we found," Lilly said quietly. "The one from Ellie's car."

"We traced it back." Kat turned a page in the file. "Wanted to see what it had been up to all these years."

"Had quite the journey," Lilly continued. "The guy we met at the car show said he bought it from a shop in Allentown, and that owner got it off a guy who bought it at Big Ed's Big Pawn in Jersey."

"We talked to Big Ed yesterday," Kat finished softly. "And he says he got it from…_you_, Mrs. Sorenson. Sold it to him in June of '72. Says you told him you found it by the side of the road."

Lilly slid the photo of the hood ornament in front of Bridget. "So either this hood ornament…this beautiful, mint-condition woman with wings, who was modeled after your sister…it either had a hell of a lot of luck out there in the elements for ten years until you just happened to find it…or you had it all along. Waited to pawn it until the heat was off."

"Can you explain that to us?" Leaning back in her chair, Kat folded her arms across her chest. "Or would you rather tell us how your sister's suitcase ended up in the basement of your parents' old apartment in Kensington?"

Bridget's eyes widened at that, darting from Lilly to Kat and back again.

"We checked,"Miller said. "The address where we found the suitcase is where you girls grew up. Our line of work, somethin' like that's usually not a coincidence."

Lilly leaned toward Bridget, her voice smoothing over Miller's rough edges. "Must've been hard, losing your sister so soon after you lost your parents."

Bridget, though guarded, allowed a small nod. "Ellie was all I had."

Realization dawned, warm and certain. "And as long as Ellie stayed here in Philly and married James Fleming, you still had her."

"But when she meets Rick Rodgers," Kat continued, "suddenly she's not stickin' around for you anymore. She's off to New York to make her dreams come true. Leave you in the dust."

"Ellie was a _fool." _Bridget's blue eyes sparked. "She had everything. _Everything. _A good job, a rich fiancé who adored her, who came from a good family…she had everything, and she—she threw it away."

"Threw _you_ away," Miller added. "Got it in her head that she could write books, and the next thing you know, she's ditchin' everyone who loves her and runnin' off to New York City with a guy she barely knows."

"I know what that feels like." Lilly sought Bridget's gaze. "I know what it's like to get left behind. More than I wanna admit."

"And Ellie was gettin' ready to do that to you," Miller said. "You…didn't have a choice. You had to stop her."

Bridget shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. When she spoke, her normally strong voice was small and faraway. "She had everything…she had _everything_…"

_Bridget watched her baby sister flip the turn signal of that gorgeous car the Flemings had given her, that beautiful silvery-blue Eagle that made Bridget feel like a million dollars every time she got to ride in it. Dinner had made her feel that way, too; Ellie had taken her to some posh restaurant she'd never even heard of, let alone been inside, and told her to order whatever she wanted. It was on her._

"_Dinner was good," Bridget ventured. _

_Ellie glanced toward her, blue eyes twinkling, and swatted her with a glove. "Oh, get off it. Dinner was phenomenal." Both girls dissolved into giggles._

_Except Ellie's giggles quickly changed, and suddenly Bridget noticed a tear diving down her cheek. _

"_What's wrong, Ellie?"_

_Ellie gave a sheepish smile as she brushed away the tear. "Nothin', I'm just…I'm really going to miss this."_

"_Oh, I'm sure James will let you off the hook every now and then to have dinner with your big sister."_

_Ellie's smile froze on her face. She looked like a puppet. "Bridgie…there's something I need to tell you. James and I…we broke up."_

_Bridget gasped, her hand flying to Ellie's arm. "What? Why? What happened?"_

_Ellie kept her long-lashed eyes on the rain-soaked road ahead. "There's someone else." _

"_Oh, honey, of course there is. Rich men always have a side dish." Bridget chuckled. "But you'll have so much money it won't even—"_

"_It's not him who has someone else, Bridgie. It's me."_

_Bridget blinked. "You?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Who?"_

"_Rick." _

"_Rick? Your friend from work?"_

"_Yes." The word whooshed from Ellie's lips in a happy sigh, her dimples framing a love-struck smile. "He adores me. And I him. He's wonderful. I—I can be myself with him. He understands me, in a way that no one else does."_

"_Does James know?" Bridget's voice was sharp; she hoped it would cut through her sister's gushing. Force her to face reason. Maybe it wasn't too late._

"_He knows there's someone." Ellie's hand fluttered in the air, then lit back on the steering wheel. "He didn't want to know who. You're the only one I've told." Large blue eyes darted toward her. "And there's more. Rick and I are leaving. Tonight. For New York."_

_Bridget couldn't have been more astonished if Ellie had told her she had a dinner date with President Kennedy. "Tonight? El, are you out of your mind?"_

"_Yes!" Ellie's laughter reminded her of the church bells at the cathedral of her childhood. "Yes, Bridgie. I'm out of my mind in love with Rick Rodgers. We quit our jobs, and we're going to New York. My suitcase is all packed. I'm meeting him at the train station in an hour."_

"_What…what will you do? How will you live?"_

"_Rick has a little money saved up." The click of the turn signal punctuated Ellie's words. "And he won't have any trouble finding a job at another law firm. He doesn't want me to have to work. He wants me to be able to just…write."_

_Bridget frowned. "Write?" _

"_Write. Write novels. Mystery novels, mostly. I'm already published."_

"_You're what?" Who was this girl, and what had she done with Ellie?_

"_But now that I'll have time to focus on it, I can get really good. I've got ideas, Bridgie, so many ideas, and now I'll finally be able to get them all on paper before I burst."_

"_But…you wouldn't be working if you married James, either," Bridget protested._

"_No, Bridgie, I wouldn't…but James doesn't understand me. He never knew about my writing, and he'd have thought it a foolish waste of time if he did."_

_Bridget wouldn't have disagreed with that assessment, but she decided to keep quiet. "And I suppose Rick doesn't think that."_

"_Oh, no. He thinks it's fantastic. He loves me, Bridgie. All of me. For who I really am, not just…who he thinks he can turn me into." That disgusting, moony-eyed look in her eyes again. The look she should be having for her fiancé. The one who'd given her everything. Who wouldn't yank her away from all she knew and make her start over in some tiny, cockroach-infested apartment in New York._

"_You know how poor we were growing up," Bridget spat. "And now you have a chance to be rich. His family loves you. And you'd just throw that all away so you can…write paperbacks?"_

_Ellie looked wounded. "I'm not throwing anything away. I—I'm just…I'm finding out who I am. What I want. What I was meant to be."_

_Bridget's head was spinning. "And where the hell does that leave me?" _

_Ellie blinked. "Why, you can come visit. Of course you can. Anytime."_

"_Come visit?" Bridget's vision was beginning to blur. The edges of it were red. Her heart was in her throat. She couldn't breathe. "Come visit? I'm the only family you have left, and you're telling me I can come visit?"_

"_I can't just live the life you want me to live, Bridgie." Ellie blinked back tears. "I've tried doing that, and it doesn't work. I—I have to be with Rick. This is happening, and I know it's sudden, and I know you're angry with me…but he's my soul mate."_

"_Oh, please," Bridget spat as the car pulled up next to her apartment. "There's no such thing as a soul mate."_

_Unbuckling her seat belt, Ellie reached over and patted Bridget's knee. "You only think that because you haven't found yours," she said, the light from the street lamp illuminating her sanctimonious smirk. "But when you do, you'll understand. When you're in love like Rick and I are…you'll do anything. Go anywhere. All that matters is being with the one you love."_

_Bridget felt something snap within her at these words. After all they'd been through together, her sister, her baby sister, her best friend, the only family she had left…she was leaving. Just like that. She was throwing it all away like a wad of used chewing gum._

"_You can't throw me away," she shrieked. "You can't just throw me away!" Reaching across the space between them as though possessed, Bridget gripped Ellie's slender neck and started to squeeze. _

"I was surprised at how…how quick it was." Bridget's voice was a barely-audible monotone, her vacant stare fixed on the cuckoo clock on the wall above Lilly's head. "And when it was over, I…I put her in the passenger seat. Drove around for hours. I found myself on a steep hill overlooking the Schuylkill, so I put her back in the driver's seat. Took her suitcase out. I can't for the life of me think why. And then I put the car in gear and tossed her purse onto the gas pedal. It was…slow at first. So slow I was sure it wouldn't work. But…then it did. It crashed through the trees and then just…disappeared. Into the water. Barely even a splash."

Finally, Bridget's wet eyes focused on them. Sad. Pleading. Despite what she'd just confessed to, Lilly's heart ached for her. She knew all too well the pain of being abandoned. Left, for some brighter, shinier future on the other side of the fence. She knew.

But that was no excuse for murder.

"She threw me away," Bridget stated flatly. "She was all I had, and she threw me away."

Kat's eyes were a curious blend of understanding and righteous indignation. "So you did the same to her."

Lilly stood up and fished the cuffs from her back pocket. "Bridget Sorenson, you're under arrest for the murder of Eleanor King…"

* * *

><p>"We got her, Boss." Lilly leaned from the doorway into Stillman's office. The lieutenant looked up from his paperwork, and she stepped inside, briefly recapping Bridget's confession.<p>

"So what, she kept the hood ornament as a souvenir?" the boss asked.

Lilly shook her head. "Came off the car while it was crashing through the trees. Bridget wasn't lying about that. She really did find it by the side of the road. Held onto it until the heat was off."

"I assume the car's still at the bottom of the Schuylkill, then?"

"Bridget remembers where she sent it over," Lilly replied.

The lieutenant nodded. "I'll send the dive squad out this afternoon."

"Thanks, Boss."

"Did she explain anything about the suitcase?"

"The apartment was where Bridget and Ellie grew up. It was vacant at the time of the murder, and Bridget knew the trick to getting in through the basement window. She hid the suitcase behind a false wall; said she and Ellie used to play princesses down in the basement when they were kids. That was their dungeon."

"All right, then. Good work." With a slight smile, Stillman slipped off his glasses and laid them on the pile of paperwork in front of him. And with that, Lilly knew. He had bad news for her. The deeply etched lines around his mouth and the tightness of his lips confirmed it. The sorrow in his blue-gray eyes, the look that told her he would give anything to spare her what he was about to tell her.

"Close the door, Lil."

She did so, her heart pounding, her stomach twisting itself into a macramé of knots. This was it. Incredibly, unbelievably, she'd just closed her last case. She was the one he'd chosen. She was sure of it. Why else would he look so sad?

With a deep breath, she turned to face her boss and swallowed hard. Whatever news he had to deliver, she'd take it. Whatever was best for the unit. For the department. Protect and serve, no matter where that happened to take place. She could survive this. She could.

She lifted her chin. She was ready.

"Boss?"

Stillman rubbed a hand over the top of his head, looked deep into her eyes for a moment as though steeling himself, and her, for the news.

"Scotty's taken the job in Northwest Detectives."


	20. Sealed With A Kiss

**A/N: **Hope you're all doing well! Just wanted to take a minute to thank you all for your continued support. For some reason I've had a hard time getting motivated to write this week. I think we all have those moments. But knowing that my wonderful readers have been eagerly awaiting an update has helped tremendously. I appreciate each and every one of you who's taken the time to read my work and let me know what you think. You help more than you know.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty<strong>

**Sealed With A Kiss **

Lilly's pen danced across the crisp white sheet of paper, one of the dozen or so necessary forms related to Bridget Sorenson's confession. Normally, the scribbled choreography was a soothing ritual, a compulsory task that nonetheless gave Lilly a sense of completion on a job. A sense of closure.

But on this occasion, her pen performed the steps without its usual partner, because Lilly's mind was still reeling from the loss of her own. Still processing the words her boss had spoken an hour before. Their conversation clanged around in her head, grotesque echoes of a nightmare beyond her worst imaginings.

_Scotty? Boss…you took Scotty? _

_Wasn't my decision, Lil. He volunteered._

_Volunteered? Why?_

_You'll have to ask him. All he told me was he's…taking one for the team._

Those words sounded like something Scotty would say, but the fact that he'd _leave,_ just like that…it still didn't seem real. It_ couldn't_ be. His desk…it was still just as he'd left it yesterday. Papers. Pens. The deep blue PPD coffee mug he always used. Everything. If she closed her eyes, Lilly could still sense the warmth and confidence of her partner's presence. Still hear his deep, strong voice. Still catch a whiff of his musky aftershave. He couldn't be gone. He _couldn't._

Because if he'd really left, if he'd really taken that job in Northwest, then…wouldn't he have taken everything with him?

He would have. Of course he would. He wouldn't have left anything behind.

So all of this…the mysterious absence from work, her conversation with Stillman, the hole in the center of her that felt like she'd taken a cannonball to the gut…all of this had to be just a bad dream. A cruel hoax. Any moment now, she'd wake up, or he'd pop out from behind a corner, that boyish, dimpled grin lighting his features, and all this would be forgotten.

Because Scotty promised her. He promised her he'd never leave. He said he'd always be there.

_I think anyone who'd walk away from you is—is batshit, all right? I know I couldn't do it. Not in a million years. Can't even picture it, y'know? A life without you in it just—it wouldn't make sense._

So he couldn't have left. He_ couldn't_ have. Not Scotty.

It simply wasn't real.

All she needed to do now was focus on her paperwork…and wait until she woke up.

* * *

><p>"And fifty-two cents makes five." Cold coins landed in Kat's outstretched palm as the guy at the coffee wagon handed her the change, followed by a warm, steaming cardboard cup. Normally, she couldn't justify the expense. Four bucks for a nasty-ass latte, when there was nasty-ass regular coffee available free of charge upstairs?<p>

But sometimes, it didn't matter what it cost. Because sometimes Mama needed a latte. And this was one of those times.

Pocketing her change, Kat turned to head back toward the office, and that's when she saw Nick hurrying toward her. A smile crept across her face at the sight of him. This was definitely a nice surprise.

But as he got closer, she saw the urgency in his eyes. He looked like he was about to explode with news, though whether it was good or bad she couldn't tell.

"Hey," she said, stomach churning, as he stopped in front of her. With a tentative grin, he glanced around briefly, then leaned in to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

"Hey, glad I caught you," he said. "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"We're all off the hook." Nick's excited words puffed up around his face in a cloud of vapor. "Just got a call from a buddy of mine who works in Northwest. Scotty took the job over there. Started bright and early this morning."

Kat nearly dropped her precious latte. "_Scotty?"_

"Guess Boss is waitin' to make the official announcement 'til we're all back in the office, but I heard he told Rush already." Nick looked like he was still reeling from the news.

"Damn," she said, then fell into a stunned silence. Of all the people the lieutenant could've plucked from their ranks, Valens was about the last. He was Lil's partner. Half of the dynamic duo. And Stillman wouldn't have picked Lil, not in a million years. So Kat had assumed Lil's partner was similarly safe.

Apparently not.

Slipping her left hand from the warmth of her pocket, she threaded her fingers between Nick's. "I'm sorry," she said, giving his hand a sympathetic squeeze. "I know he's your best friend. Gotta be tough on you."

"Well, yeah." Nick glanced toward her with just a hint of mischief. "Without him for you to pick on, I'm gonna get your undivided attention."

"Damn straight." Kat deadpanned, lifting her latte to her lips.

Next to her, Vera was clearing his throat. "So are you…okay 'bout all this? I know you were thinkin', y'know…maybe we shouldn't work together…"

Kat stopped on the sidewalk, her shock over Scotty taking a momentary backseat to searching Nick's eyes. "I panicked, Nick. I got scared. About…a lot of things."

He took her free hand in both of his. "You still scared?" he asked, caressing her with his gaze.

She gazed into those warm, caring hazel eyes, eyes that revealed the beautiful soul beneath that uncouth, unkempt exterior, and considered his question.

"Be lyin' if I said I wasn't," she said at length. "But not enough to let it stop me."

He grinned, a definite twinkle in his eyes. "Well, all right then." Lifting her hand to his lips, he pressed a brief kiss to the back of it, then stuffed his left hand back in his pocket and turned toward Headquarters. His right hand still held hers, their fingers lightly laced together.

"You, uh…you get that we probably oughta tell the boss, right? Dot all our I's and whatnot?" Nick's voice was light, but not quite light enough to hide his apprehension.

Kat nodded. "I know."

"Are you…okay with that?" He cut her a searching glance.

Kat smiled and took a deep breath as they prepared to round the corner to Headquarters. "Yeah, Nick. I'm okay."

"So…we're good?" He sounded like he couldn't quite believe it, so she shot him a wicked glance.

"Oh, we're better than good."

Nick let out a quiet groan. "Don't look at me like that. Not here."

Kat stretched up to feather a kiss to his cheek. "I'm sorry." She was. Sort of.

"Yeah, right," he grumbled.

"Make it up to you later?" Another wicked grin.

Nick's face split into a wide smile. "Y'know, I'm gonna hold you to that."

"Damn well better."

As they rounded the corner and the steel and glass of Headquarters loomed into view, Nick started to turn loose of her hand and create a little space between them, the way they always did when they were within sight of work. But this time, she didn't let his hand go.

He paused, questions written in his eyes, before smiling the biggest smile she'd ever seen from him, one that sent waves of love washing through her heart.

Love? _Love?_

Oh, _shit_.

She hadn't intended to do this. She never intended to fall for anyone again. The risk was too great, especially with Veronica to think about.

But the gentle way his hand wrapped hers in its warm, steady embrace gave her the reassurance she needed. The quiet confidence to know that Nick Vera was different. He was solid. Trustworthy. And he made her happier than she'd ever been before.

On sudden impulse, she stopped, right there on the sidewalk in front of Headquarters, where dozens of people were streaming past. "Nick."

Vera's brow furrowed. "You okay?"

Kat opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come. She'd always been intensely protective of her heart. Kept it under lock and key. And now here she was, past thirty, for God's sake, these three little words on the tip of her tongue, and she'd never said them to a guy before. She frankly wasn't even sure how it was done. Did one just blurt it out? Was there a speech involved?

Oh, fuck it. Closing the distance between them, she cupped the back of Nick's head with her free hand and captured his lips in a kiss. He seemed surprised at first, but responded quickly, drawing her close.

The kiss lasted but a moment, and then she pulled away from him, blinking expectantly, hoping he'd gotten the message.

"What was that for?" he asked. "I mean, not that I didn't enjoy it..."

She responded with her trademark, withering, _I can't believe you're this much of an idiot_ look. It wasn't exactly how she wanted to tell him, but it was a form of communication she was pretty sure he'd understand.

A frown danced over his brow, and then his eyes widened. "Oh." A grin began to creep across his face. "_Oh. _Wait…are you—are you sure?"

Still incapable of speech, she merely nodded.

The full-fledged, blinding Nick Vera smile, and she felt like she was melting.

"Well, then. I love you, too, Miller."

They stood there, smiling at each other like simpletons, and then Nick seemed to snap to attention and realize where they were. With a sly grin he turned toward the glass doors of Headquarters, offering her his arm in an uncharacteristic dapper gesture. She took it, the warmth in her heart more than enough to ward off the chill in the mid-morning air.

The latte didn't hurt anything, either.

She took another grateful sip, relishing the sweetness on her tongue, then lowered the cup and raised questioning eyes in Nick's direction. "So…how come Boss picked Scotty?"

"He didn't," Nick replied. "Scotty volunteered."

Kat's eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. "He volunteered?"

"What I heard."

She considered this for a moment over the rim of her cardboard cup. "Damn. Rush musta really done a number on him."

Nick shot her another mischievous grin. "Pretty sure I know the feeling."

* * *

><p>"Well, here we are." Scotty's new partner, the short, stocky, sharp-tongued Detective Victoria Mendoza pulled the Crown Vic up in the circle drive of a palatial pile of stone and brickwork in Chestnut Hill. He was no stranger to the exclusive neighborhood, having worked a few murder cases along its posh, tree-lined streets, but this…well, he supposed it was still a house…was ostentatious even by Chestnut Hill's generous standards. How many times would his apartment fit into this gargantuan mansion, anyway? Thirty? Forty? He was powerless to speculate. But speculate was about all he could do, since Mendoza had insisted on driving.<p>

"New guy doesn't drive, Valens," she'd informed him crisply, much to his chagrin. He hated being the passenger. Never knew what to do with his hands.

As they climbed from the car, Mendoza's eyes raked over him in a critical, appraising look. "You ready for your first job?"

Scotty almost laughed. Six years chasing down murderers, and now he was working a jewelry theft? Massive though the loss apparently was, he could handle this.

With a wry grin, he shut his car door. "I was born ready, Mendoza."

Mendoza didn't crack a smile. In fact, Scotty idly wondered whether the woman was capable of such an expression. Two hours in her company, and despite his best efforts, he hadn't seen so much of a hint of one. Hell, even Lilly had smiled the first time he—

The slam of Mendoza's car door mercifully guillotined those thoughts. "Yeah, we'll see about that," she said.

So it had come to this, Scotty mused as he and Mendoza started up the seemingly endless sidewalk to a mess of arches and columns he presumed contained a front door. This was his life's work now. Where he'd once been seeking justice for long-dead murder victims, now he was just trying to make sure Mr. and Ms. High Society got their two-thousand-inch five-dimension uber-def TV back in one piece.

But here there could be happy endings. Stolen property could be returned. Peace of mind could be restored. Lives could be made…well, if not whole again, damn close to it. The best he could hope for in Homicide? Closure. That elusive thing everyone who'd ever lost anyone was forever trying to chase.

Like he was. Right now.

The glut of uniformed officers and CSUs started clogging the walk about halfway between the street and the front door. Flashing her badge, Mendoza elbowed her way through them, none-too-politely, while Scotty followed in her wake.

A shrill, nearly-hysterical female voice reached his ears before he even got inside the vast, marble-columned foyer. "And oh, for the love of all things holy, be careful with that vase! _Careful, _I said. It's a family heirloom!"

Scotty pulled up short when the woman's bleached blonde hair, surgically crafted profile, and artificially-inflated bosom came into full view.

"Well, now I know why we're supposed to work this job like it's one of our own," was Mendoza's grim assessment, an echo of what his new boss had told them both before sending them out. Sergeant Beckett hadn't elaborated, but now she didn't have to.

"Is that…Gina Newman?" Scotty asked.

Mendoza's sharp dark eyes darted toward him. "Yeah. Why? You know her?"

He was just about to reply when realization dawned on Mendoza's face…and finally his new partner smiled. A wickedly amused curving of the lips, with a mischievous gleam in those previously-stony dark eyes.

"_Wait _a minute," she said. "You're that pretty boy murder cop who's all up in her business at the Blue Ball every year, aren't you?"

"_Well, _I wouldn't put it quite tha—"

Mendoza's fleshy elbow met his ribs. "Nice work, _guapo._"

Just then, a uniformed officer approached them. In his hand was a clear plastic bag containing a flash drive. "You the lead detectives on this one?"

Mendoza nodded. "Mendoza and Valens, Northwest."

"We got the footage off the Newmans' surveillance cameras. Picture's pretty grainy, but we should be able to get it enhanced."

"Thanks." Mendoza took the bag, and the officer disappeared back into the throng.

Scotty glanced down at his new partner. "So where do we start? You…want me to talk to Gina?"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Her eyes sparking with amusement, Mendoza thumped the bag softly into Scotty's chest. "Nope. I got it. You take this back to Headquarters and get it up to the lab."

Scotty frowned. "Ain't you got someone else who can do that?" While he didn't relish the idea of Gina Newman crying on his shoulder over her stolen jewelry, it was slightly more appealing than the alternative. Besides, he was used to doing interviews in pairs.

Apparently, Mendoza wasn't interested in that. "New guy gets the grunt work," she said, pulling her notebook from her pocket.

Scotty looked down at the bag with a rueful grin and a shake of his head. "What, yesterday I'm Homicide, and now I'm a glorified go-fer?"

"Nothin' glorified about it, _guapo_. Now _go_."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Scotty slid the bag into his coat pocket and started back toward the street. He wasn't thrilled about being relegated to grunt status, even less thrilled about his first assignment taking him back to Headquarters. The kind of luck he was having today, he'd run into one of his old co-workers—or worse, Lilly herself.

But this was what he'd chosen. This was the path he'd decided to take. And things were bound to get better. Sooner or later, he'd figure out how to explain his decision to the squad. The gaping hole Lilly had left in his heart was bound to fill in at some point. And he'd get on Mendoza's good side eventually. He had to. He couldn't be the New Guy forever.

Even if he was? He didn't have to spend every waking moment playing second fiddle to Eddie Saccardo. And for that, he'd take everything Mendoza cared to throw at him.

Besides, there was one silver lining to being the not-so-glorified go-fer.

He'd get to drive the car.


	21. Johnny Get Angry

**A/N: **The "blind policeman" story is, in fact, canon. It's from way back in season 1, during Scotty's second or third episode. I found it on a YouTube compilation video and got inspired.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One<strong>

**Johnny Get Angry**

When he reached Headquarters, Scotty paused for a moment outside the glass double doors to steel himself for those first few steps into the building.

Just yesterday, he worked here.

Now, he was his new partner's errand boy.

So he hunched into the depths of his coat. Pulled on a PPD ballcap he'd found in the glove compartment of the squad car. Scurried, ratlike, through the lobby, eyes in constant, furtive motion. Took the stairs, all eleven flights, up to the lab to lessen his risk of running into anyone he knew. Well, anyone, really. That was the thing about Headquarters. Too many people.

His phone had started buzzing somewhere between the fourth and fifth floors. And buzzing. And buzzing.

At that, he knew. The news was out. Stillman had made it official. The squad knew he'd jumped ship.

Scotty waited until he reached the relative safety of the eleventh floor before doffing the cap and repairing the damage to his hair. Then, after a brief, but vicious, wrestling match with his thoughts, he slipped his phone from his pocket. He wasn't ready to read any of the eight—_eight?—_texts he'd received in the last couple of minutes…but he couldn't resist glancing at the screen anyway, just to see who they were from.

One from Jeffries.

Two from Vera.

Five—_five?_—from Miller. He grinned at that, despite everything.

Nothing from Lil yet. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. He felt everything. All at once. Everything…and nothing.

His phone buzzed again in his hand just as he was about to stash it in his pocket. A text from Mendoza. This one he would read.

_Security video goes to Rafferty in the lab. Andale, guapo._

Stuffing his phone and the ballcap into his jacket pocket, Scotty welcomed the distraction his new job presented. Now, all he had to do was find Rafferty, whoever he was, and…

Wait a minute. Rafferty. Scotty knew that name. He also knew the slender figure, the saucy tilt of the head, the cascade of chestnut curls over the back of a white lab coat.

Well, if he had to run into someone he knew, this was about the best case scenario.

At the sound of his shoes on the white tile floor, Frankie turned around, large dark eyes widening in not-unpleasant surprise. "Scotty."

"Hey."

"You finally ready to admit you missed first base?" One corner of her mouth lifted in a wry, teasing smile.

"Never." Grinning, Scotty fished the flash drive out of his pocket. "Got somethin' for you."

"Ooh, you brought me a present." Long lashes fluttered as she took the bag from his outstretched hand.

"Security video from the Newman burglary. Hear it's pretty grainy."

"Not for long it isn't." Crimson lips curved, and then a puzzled look crossed her face. "Wait…the Newman burglary? That's your job? I thought you were Homicide."

His stomach muscles tightened to absorb the gut punch. "Was."

"What happened?"

"Budget cuts." He was surprised at how automatically the words leapt to his lips. "Needed someone to move from Homicide to Northwest."

"And you took one for the team." Frankie smiled up at him, her large, doe-like eyes regarding him in a new light. Before he could process whether that light was good or bad, she lowered her gaze and set the bag to the side atop an already-cluttered work station. "I'm finishing something up for sex crimes; I'll take a look at this right after lunch. Let you know what I find."

He nodded his agreement just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Without thinking, he slipped it out and glanced at the caller ID.

It was Lilly.

And she wasn't texting him. She was _calling._

Shit. He _really_ wasn't ready for that.

His stomach twisting itself like a street vendor's pretzel, he flicked his thumb over the screen to send the call to voicemail, then hoped like hell she didn't leave a message.

And then he hoped like hell she did.

"So I see your phone works." Frankie clicked away at her keyboard, her eyes on her monitor, her olive skin bathed in its eerie blue light.

Scotty's brow creased. "Yeah…"

"Because you never called." She still didn't look at him, but her tone was as sharp as her glossy black fingernails.

Had he told her he'd call? He honestly couldn't remember. It might as well have been years since their brief encounter at the Blue Ball.

"Yeah, about that…" He stashed his phone back in his pocket and fumbled for an explanation. "I, uh…I'm sorry. Got caught up."

Glancing up, she offered a seductive smile. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a believer in second chances."

He'd have had to be a special kind of stupid to miss that hint. She knew it, too; she'd laid a beautiful pitch right over the plate, and now she was clicking away at her computer again, pleasantly ignoring him. He took advantage of the opportunity to study her. She was certainly pretty, in a slightly edgy way. Long, curly hair. Lips as full and red as a ripe cherry. Tight leather skirt. Stiletto heels. Not exactly typical getup for a lab tech, but on her, it worked.

She seemed pretty straightforward, too. No layers to crack or cement walls to try and scale. He suspected he'd always know exactly where he stood with her.

She wasn't the type of woman he normally went for. Wasn't the one he could see himself with long-term. But she was here, and she was obviously interested…and maybe she could be a balm to his broken heart. He was pretty sure she wasn't Miss Right...but she could be Miss Right Now. And unless he wanted to be Rick Rodgers, still stuck on the same woman almost five decades after the fact…he needed a Miss Right Now.

"Yeah." Scotty sidled closer to her desk. "I am. Very lucky."

She glanced up. "Why's that?"

"'Cause I'd like to buy you a drink. Tonight. After work."

"Jones's?" A hint of amusement flitted across her face. "Or someplace classy?"

Was this a trick?

"How 'bout we…start at Jones's, and then go someplace classy for dinner?"

This seemed to be an acceptable answer, as Frankie's lips curved in a small, seductive smile. "See you at six, then."

He grinned with relief and anticipation. "Six it is."

* * *

><p>One by one, Lilly slid the files from the Ellie King job into a crisp white cardboard box. Like all their cases that came over from Missing Persons, Ellie hadn't had a yellowing, shelf-worn evidence box to bring up from the basement. Instead, someone had put a new one together shortly after Bridget Sorenson's confession, and now Lilly was packing it full in preparation for moving it to its final resting place.<p>

She'd been at the scene that afternoon when the dive team dredged Ellie's car up from the depths of the Schuylkill. Mud-covered skeletal remains were found in the driver's seat, with a sodden purse wedged down by the floorboards. Inside was a wallet containing some waterlogged cash, a still-legible train ticket to New York...and a driver's license belonging to one Eleanor Anne King.

The car itself was barely recognizable. Once a shiny silvery-blue, Ellie's Eagle was reddish-brown with mud and rust when they pulled it up. Lifeless tires hung around eaten-away hubcaps. Chunks of the fenders had dissolved in the river's murky waters. As a whole, the car looked so fragile Lilly was afraid that if she so much as sneezed, it might crumble completely.

Instinctively, she'd turned toward Scotty to lament the sorry state of the vintage automobile before remembering, too late, that he wasn't there. Oh, well. She'd have to tell him about it when he came back. Because he had to come back. He had to. He couldn't have left.

And now here she was, back in the squad room, putting the lid on Ellie's box. All she had left to do was write "Closed" on the end of it, as they always did. Except…where was the marker? That thick black permanent marker they always used, the one that was supposed to be right here, in the mug next to the Xerox machine…

Oh. Of course. Scotty had written on the box for their last case, and he was infamous for stashing the marker in his desk drawer rather than the mug where it was supposed to be. Everyone always gave him crap about it, but that just made him dig in his heels that much more, the jackass. With a quiet chuckle, Lilly crossed the room to Scotty's desk, sat down lightly in his chair, and opened the small drawer in the middle. Sure enough, there was the marker, right there in the little tray in the front. Just like always.

But those spiral notebooks he kept in the drawer were gone.

So was that baseball, the one that he'd occasionally pull out and toss to himself with a wicked gleam in his eyes. The one that always made Vera scowl for reasons Lilly couldn't even begin to fathom.

The ever-present bottle of aspirin and the set of keys on the Eagles keychain were gone, too.

Oh.

Oh, God.

_No._

"You okay, Lil?"

Lilly glanced up to see Will standing there, hat in hand, coat draped over one arm.

"Yeah. Fine." She tore through the rest of Scotty's desk drawers, frantic for some evidence, _any _evidence, that would point away from the horrifying conclusion she'd just reached. "I was just…gettin' ready to write on the box…can't find the marker…Scotty never puts it back...thought it might be in here…"

The extra shirt Scotty kept in the bottom drawer was gone. His gym bag…that was gone, too.

"The marker that's in your hand?" Will laid his hat on the corner of the desk, the look in his eyes both unspeakably sad and infinitely kind.

The game was up, and Lilly knew it. She slammed the bottom drawer shut and cradled her forehead in her hands as the protective cocoon of denial came crashing down around her.

"Scotty…he's…he's gone."

"I know." Will laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Lil."

"Why would he leave?" She turned stinging eyes on her senior colleague. "Why would he just…walk away, in the middle of a case, without even saying…?" Sadness swelled in her throat, making it impossible for her to speak the word.

Jeffries sighed. "I don't know, Lil. You'll have to ask him."

"I tried callin' him earlier…I tried…" Feeling suddenly foolish, Lilly gave a bitter, tear-filled laugh. She'd wanted to hear his voice. Wanted him to reassure her that no, of course he hadn't left. Not really. He wasn't gone for good. Because he wouldn't leave her. _Couldn't _leave her.

But…he could. Because he had.

The gash he'd knifed in her heart started to bleed.

"Didn't answer when I called him, either," Will was saying. He paused, seeming to weigh his words, and then spoke again, softer this time. "But I just saw him headin' into Jones's a few minutes ago."

"Yeah?"

"Acted like he didn't see me, but…I'm pretty sure he did."

"Jones's." That was their bar. Their place. The place where they'd shared so many drinks and laughs and laid-back moments. And—and it was a place. A _place. _Scotty wasn't just floating off in some nebulous somewhere, like everyone else who'd left her. He was there. At a place. A place just around the corner. A place where she could walk in and find him and sit down next to him and ask him _why_.

Moving in a daze, she gathered her things, mumbled some form of goodbye to Will, and headed down the stairs, through the lobby, and across the street, trying to force her reeling mind to prepare. There had to be a logical explanation for this. There had to be. If Scotty had left of his own free will, there was a damn good reason, and maybe if she heard it from his own lips…maybe somehow, some of this would start to make sense.

Maybe.

Moments later, Lilly pushed open the door of the bar, the bells jangling against the glass as they always did, then stepped into the tavern's close warmth. Unwinding the scarf from around her neck, she waved off the bustling, menu-wielding host and scanned the dimly-lit interior.

At the sight of a familiar figure sitting at the bar, her heart gave a flip.

Scotty was here. He was _here._

Perching on a barstool, casual fingertips swirling a half-empty glass of scotch. Wearing that extra shirt, the one that was missing from his bottom desk drawer. The dark blue one, with the black stripes.

Damn. She'd forgotten how good he looked in that shirt.

Steeling herself, she let her scarf drop from nervously twisting fingers, took a deep breath, and started toward him.

And then stopped.

Because he…he was _with _someone.

Lilly's eyes widened in disbelieving horror as a long-haired brunette draped possessive fingers over Scotty's forearm. And he was…God, he was laughing and flirting and flashing that dimpled grin. Like nothing was wrong and nothing had changed and nothing was bothering him.

How was this possible? How could be sitting here, enjoying himself—on a _date, _no less—when he'd just severed the most precious relationship she'd ever had? How could he discard six years of smiles and laughter and tears and cases and confessions with as much casual ease as she'd changed her shirt that morning? How _dare_ he?

At that, something snapped within her. White-hot fury burned in her chest; her hands started to shake. Partners came and partners went. She knew. It was part of the job. But—but she and Scotty were more than just partners. They were _partners. _And this wasn't just a job transfer. This was a betrayal. His empty desk had turned her world completely upside-down in a matter of moments, leaving her cold and aching and bereft, and he was sitting there all smug and shit-eating, like it was nothing. Like _she _was nothing.

Lilly couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. All she could do was feel. And feel, and feel, and feel. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at Scotty and his date, wishing like hell she could just rip her hammering, overfull heart out of her chest so she wouldn't have to feel any more.

How the hell could he do this to her?

* * *

><p>Scotty leaned his elbow on the bar and toyed with his glass of scotch, watching as Frankie dissolved into giggles at the latest war story he'd told her. He always kept a dozen or so of these little anecdotes from his patrol days in his back pocket, having found them perfect first-date ice-breakers, but he wasn't sure they'd be quite as effective on someone who worked for the department. Fortunately, and to his surprise, Frankie had gobbled them up like Vera with a bowl of bar snacks.<p>

Normally, it gave Scotty a rush, making a woman laugh. Causing luscious lips to curve with mirth, a pair of beautiful eyes to shine like diamonds. But this time, the reward was hollow. Because Frankie's laugh wasn't the laugh he wanted to be hearing. Her brown eyes seemed dull compared to the sparkling pair of sapphires he wished he were looking into. And her smile? God. There was no comparison.

"Oh, the things I miss, starin' at a computer screen all day."

Frankie's voice to his left broke into his thoughts and brought him back to earth. He looked over at her with a curious smile. "What, all of us comin' in and outta the lab all day, you never heard any war stories?"

Her hand crept up his forearm, rested on his shoulder for a moment, then dropped chastely to her lap. "I don't normally go out with guys from work."

"Well." Plastering a flirtatious grin on his face, he lifted his glass to hers. "Glad you could make an exception."

Frankie's smile was filled with wicked promise. "Me, too."

"So since you don't date cops," he drawled, "I'm…guessin' you never heard the one about the blind policeman."

"Blind policeman?" The expected frown creased her smooth brow.

Scotty lowered his glass and grinned. "This domestic call came in every Friday night. Same damn couple. Partner and I decided to shut 'em down. We go to their door with a white stick and glasses, start takin' down their report. Grope their faces. Tell 'em it's an equal opportunity program. Threw 'em off so bad they didn't call for weeks."

Frankie burst out laughing again. Her giggles were contagious, and Scotty found himself chuckling right along with her at the memory. The blind policeman was his game-winner, his slam dunk. Hell, even Lil had laughed when he'd told it to her all those years ago. It was the first time he'd ever heard her laugh.

A pang amidst the chuckles made him down the rest of his drink, but Frankie's continuing laughter reassured him that she hadn't noticed.

When at last her giggles died down, he glanced over to find her watching him, brown eyes twinkling with seductive mischief.

"Did you know…" she asked over the rim of her mojito, "that you have the sexiest dimples when you smile?"

She had his attention. "Do I?"

"Mmm-hm." Frankie set her glass on the bar and leaned toward him. "Right…about…"

"_Scotty."_

That voice was an icicle, and it froze Scotty in his tracks. He_ knew_ that voice.

He turned slowly to his left, and, sure enough, there was Lilly. In stark contrast to her icy voice, her eyes were blue flames. There was almost visible smoke coming out of her ears.

His heart pounded like a jackhammer. His mouth felt like sandpaper. But damned if he'd let her see any of that. Damned if he let her know, for one instant, how much her mere presence affected him.

Placing his empty glass on the bar, he pasted a smile on his face and forced lightness into his voice.

"Hey, Lil."


	22. Furious Love

**A/N: **Buckle up, y'all. It is on like Donkey Kong.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two<strong>

**Furious Love**

_Only you madly pursue me  
>And jealously tell me<br>I'm worthy of furious love_

Lilly clenched her teeth against her fiery fury as Scotty turned toward her, that damn _come-and-get-me _grin still frozen on his face. That damn flirtatious twinkle in his eyes. That damn casual greeting, that "Hey, Lil," he'd tossed out as though they were just bumping into each other at the office. As though the yawning chasm between them had yet to open, and everything was the way it always had been.

He didn't even have the good sense to look guilty as his gaze slid back to the too-young, too-primped woman next to him. "Frankie, you ever meet my old partner?"

Old partner? _Old partner? _Lilly's hands balled into fists; her nails dug into her palms.

"Maybe?" Scotty's date turned smoky dark eyes in Lilly's direction and swept them over her in a frank, evaluating glance. "I've only been here a couple months. Still gettin' to know everyone." Smiling with too much lipstick and too many teeth, the woman extended a hand. "Frankie Rafferty. I work in the lab."

Of course. This was the woman she'd seen Scotty dancing with at the Blue Ball. Eyes narrowed, Lilly gave Frankie a stiff, cursory handshake and summoned as much civility as she could muster. "Lilly Rush. Homicide." Whether it was the name of her department or the crime she was seriously tempted to commit, she couldn't be sure.

Formalities dispensed, Lilly dismissed Frankie from her mind, focusing the full force of her repressed rage on her partner. Well. Her _old _partner.

"Listen, Scotty. I need a word with you." Many, many, many words.

He picked up his freshly-refilled glass of scotch and regarded her coolly over its rim. "'Bout what?"

Resisting the overwhelming urge to kick the barstool out from beneath him, Lilly instead resorted to calling him a litany of foul names in her head. "Just a couple loose ends."

Scotty studied her for a moment, his expression carefully guarded, then downed his drink in a single gulp. Sliding off the stool, he turned to Frankie, an oily smile oozing across his face. "This shouldn't take long. How 'bout orderin' us another round?"

"Sure." Frankie tossed a playful, long-lashed glance at Scotty and a lock of curly chestnut hair over her shoulder, then swiveled back toward the bar.

Lilly stormed past her and through the rest of the tavern, stopping a couple alarmed servers in their tracks and drawing an irritated exclamation from someone who'd been lining up a shot at one of the pool tables. Trusting Scotty to follow her, she slammed into the swinging wooden doors leading to the smallish room that Jones's rented out for the occasional private party. She wasn't sure what she'd have done if she burst in on someone's retirement bash or something, but, mercifully, the room was empty.

Behind her, the door gave an angry squeak, and she whirled to face Scotty. He stood a few feet away, arms folded across his chest, eyes glinting with silent challenge. He—he…damn him, he was going on the offensive, without even saying a word. Rather than explain why he'd left, why he'd abandoned her, the unyielding set of his jaw and the defiant twitch of the muscle in his cheek were almost daring her to explain why she'd pulled him away from a date. One of thousands he must've gone on in the last few years, with yet another curvy, dark-haired Elisa clone.

Lilly was so furious with him, for so many reasons, that she just picked one of them and flung it at him, more or less at random.

"The blind policeman story? Really, Scotty?"

Dark brows arched in a brief volley of surprise. "Why not? Made _you _laugh."

She flinched at the memory. His story had indeed drawn a laugh, the first of many much-needed chuckles she'd enjoyed over the years courtesy of Scotty Valens.

All that was over now. Scotty himself had made sure of it.

"That why you called me back here?" he demanded. "To give me first-date pointers? 'Cause looked like to me I was doin'—"

"You _left_, Scotty." Her voice was low and quivering with indignation, her eyes stinging with angry tears.

"Look, Lil." He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. "There was a one in five chance I was gonna be the one to get the boot anyway. Just figured…this way it's my decision."

His words were like the sharpest of knives, the cut so swift and smooth she saw the blood before she felt the pain. But once that pain came, it stole all the air in her lungs. It was true. It really was his choice. He'd severed their partnership without a second thought, without even consulting her or thinking about her or anything. Just like everyone else. He was just like everyone else.

When she got her breath back, it was shallow and panicked. She felt like she was bobbing out to sea on a current she couldn't fight.

"So that's it, then? Just like that?"

"Boss was gonna have to pick someone, Lil," Scotty retorted.

"So what, you just decided to swoop in and be the hero? Save all our jobs? Take one for the team?"

"Yeah. Exactly that."

Lilly laughed, because if she didn't, she'd cry. "Then maybe someone should get you a fucking cape, Scotty. Put a big red S on your chest."

"Well, hey, a thank you might be nice."

"_What?" _Her eyes flew wide with incredulity. "You—you want me to _thank you?_"

"Hey, I saved your damn job, all right? You, Nicky, Will, Miller…you all get to go back to Homicide tomorrow. Do what you love, without worryin' you're about to get the axe."

Oh, _damn_ him. Damn him and his misguided hero complex. Rage choking her, she turned away and stormed a few paces to her left, toward a brick wall adorned with a multicolored neon beer sign that some enterprising soul had turned into a clock. She stared at that clock for a few seconds, then whirled back around and fixed Scotty with her iciest glare.

"You lied to my face." She could barely see him through the flood of tears. "You said you'd never leave me. That you'd always be there for me. That you—you couldn't even picture life without me, and then you _left_. You left me, Scotty_, _just like everyone else. And…you didn't even say goodbye._" _

Turning her back on him once more, she returned her focus to the beer sign and tried to will away her tears. They streaked down her cheeks anyway, hot and quick; she brushed them away with a shaky hand.

"How the hell was I supposed to say goodbye to you, Lil?" Scotty still sounded angry, but there was a thickness, a raw, unguarded sorrow to his voice that poked through the cocky façade and started to file the edges off her fury.

Behind her, the floorboards creaked as he took a couple steps toward her. "We've been partners for six years. Six goddamn years, Lil…and partners ain't the half of what we are. You're—you're my friend, you're the one who's always got my back, you're the voice I hear in my head when I'm about to do somethin' stupid. What the _hell _could I have said that would've told you what you are to me, how much you mean to me, how much I…"

His voice faltered, and she turned around, stunned, to see him raking a hand through his hair. Pain shimmered in his eyes; his lips were pressed together in a tight line.

Brow creasing, she took a step closer. "How much you what, Scotty?"

Shadows flitted across his face. "Nothin'. Forget it."

But Lilly wouldn't. She couldn't. The truth of why he'd left was right there, hovering in the scant space between them. She had to snatch it before he could fling it away.

"Scotty—"

"Look. I'm sorry you're upset, Lil. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry this is the way it all went down, I'm sorry we're—I'm just…I'm sorry, all right?"

He turned to leave, but she stepped between him and the doorway, pinning him in place with a desperate glare. "_No, _Scotty. No. It isn't all right."

Looking startled at her vehemence, he blinked, then turned and took a few steps toward the far corner of the room, one hand wandering up to rub at the back of his neck. Like her pathetic cats when they sensed food in the vicinity, she chased after him.

"It isn't all right for you—you, _you _of all people—to turn around and walk away from me, because you promised me you wouldn't. You _promised." _God, she sounded like such a child. "You said I was worth stickin' around for, remember? You said you'd always be here, and...and I won't let you out this door until you tell me _why_, Scotty. Why you were able to just—just leave, like the last six years didn't mean anything to you, like _I _didn't mean anything, and why it was so goddamn easy for you to—"

"Easy?" He spun around to face her_. "_You think this was _easy?"_

She spread her hands wide. "Looked like it to me."

Scotty stepped closer. So close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the pulse pounding at the base of his throat.

"You really think it was easy for me to walk away from you, from the squad, from—from everything I've known for the last six years? You think it was easy for me to go from puttin' murderers away to…findin' some rich woman's lost jewelry? You think it's easy bein' low man on the totem pole again? Workin' with a boss who ain't…Boss? With a partner who—who ain't _you_?"

His voice was faltering again, his eyes inky pools of something she couldn't read. What _was _it? What was he so desperate to keep hidden, yet equally desperate to say?

"Then why, Scotty?" Her eyes scanned his face, frantic for answers. "Why the hell did you take that job?"

He swallowed hard. "Because…as hard as it was to leave? Stickin' around would've been worse."

"_Why?"_

Scotty caught her gaze and held it with a depth, a richness she'd never seen before. His whole face softened. His hand reached out as though to touch her, but it stopped halfway and fell back to his side.

"It's because…" He blew out a long breath between pursed lips, then flashed a hint of a sheepish smile. "Because I'm in love with you, Lil."

Lilly's eyes flew open, and she stopped. Stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped blinking, stopped doing everything except trying to process what her partner had just told her.

Shaking his head, Scotty turned around and started to walk slowly back and forth. "I didn't…I didn't know I was. Didn't even have a clue until that night on my roof, when we stayed out 'til three AM, just talkin' and laughin', and—and I didn't wanna take you home. Doesn't matter how much time I get with you, it's never enough. And I love that. I love how you can be so gentle with a witness…and then turn around and be a badass with a doer. I love how you won't rest until you get justice. I love your smile, I love your laugh, I…" He broke off with a chuckle. "I even love it when you're pissed off at me, 'cause it makes me wanna try again. Do better next time."

He looked up at her then, his eyes shining with tears. "You're…you're everything to me, Lil. Everything. And…I love you. So goddamn much it _hurts_."

Lilly stared. She stared and stared, watching him pace miniature laps around his little patch of the worn wooden floor like a wild animal in too small a cage. Heart pounding, she wished real life came with a back button the way her DVR did, so she could go back and listen to what he'd just said again. And again. And again.

"But you're with Saccardo," he was saying.

Saccardo. Right. Her fingers flew to the necklace at her throat. In the face of Scotty's confession, she'd almost forgotten Eddie existed.

"And you just told me he's thinkin' about comin' back, to give the two of you a chance." Scotty dragged a hand through his hair. "And if he does come back, then…then he's gonna be around. All the time. All the time, I gotta watch the woman I love…lookin' at someone else the way I wish she'd look at me." He gave a bitter, humorless laugh. "And if he doesn't come back, then I'm right back where I was. I'm the guy you hang out with when the guy you really wanna be with ain't around. And—and I can't do that, Lil. Not with you. Not anymore."

"So you left." The words were a dull, hollow thud.

"You wanted to know why. That's why."

Lilly was silent for a long moment. Turning his words over and over in her head. Trying to reconcile them with the evidence.

"So you think this makes it okay? You telling me you—you love me?" The words felt strange and false on her tongue. "You think that makes everything okay, just like that?"

"No!" The palm of his hand smacked a nearby table. "None of this is okay. There ain't a single goddamn thing about this that's okay. Because I did the thing I swore I'd never do to you, the last thing in the world I wanted to do…but it turns I ain't near as strong as I thought I was. 'Cause there's no fuckin' way I'm strong enough to stick around to watch you fawnin' all over Eddie Saccardo."

Lilly gave a bitter laugh. "Funny, you havin' such a problem with Saccardo when you just did the same thing to me he did."

Scotty's eyes flashed a warning, but it was one she didn't heed.

"No, wait, Scotty, y'know what? What you did was worse. Eddie didn't have a choice to leave, but you? You _volunteered_." She flung her hands into the air. "Dammit, Scotty, do you even hear yourself? You say you love me, you say you'll never leave me, and—and not only do you leave the squad, but your goddamn _date _is out there at the bar waiting for you!" Her voice was so shrill she barely recognized it.

His brows slammed together. "Wait, are—are you _jealous_?"

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised." She gave a breathless, humorless chuckle. "Hell, you couldn't even keep it in your pants long enough for Elisa's body to get cold—"

"_Don't. _Talk about her." The words were an ominous snarl, his grip on the back of the chair in front of him turning his knuckles ivory.

"Long hair, short skirt, _young_…God, Frankie Rafferty is just textbook, isn't she?" Lilly's vision blurred with her fury; she could barely catch her breath. "She even legal? Not like you'd care enough to check. She's just another piece to you, right, Scotty?"

The chair flew from his grasp and skittered a few feet across the floor, then fell onto its side with a loud crack. He started toward her then, his eyes wild, his face a thundercloud, but she didn't back down.

"Is everything you say just meaningless bullshit, or do you—"

Lilly's words turned into a muffled cry of surprise as Scotty's mouth crashed down onto hers.

His kisses were untamed. Unrestrained. Completely uninhibited. Her body melted under their ferocity. Her knees rebelled, refusing to hold her upright any longer, and she was utterly at his mercy. One hand, hot and firm against her back, caught her as she fell; the other dragged along her cheek, then tore the elastic—and a couple strands of her hair along with it—from her ponytail.

His hand fisted in her newly-loosed hair; his tongue stormed her mouth. Dizzy and lightheaded, she clung to him for support. Dug her nails into his back through the thin barrier of his shirt, wishing she could return some of the pain he'd caused her when he left.

But right now, that didn't matter. Because right now he was here. Oh, dear God, was he here.

Backing them up a few inches, Scotty pinned her against a table, then bent her over it, a low, possessive sound rumbling in his chest. He ravaged her mouth, consuming her until she was aware of nothing but him and need and want and—and this_ ache_ in the depths of her that she couldn't define. One that could be assuaged only by the fire of his raging, relentless kiss.

And then he stopped. Tore his mouth away with a vicious growl, his breathing ragged against her tingling lips. Lilly's eyes snapped open to reveal him hovering over her, his arms braced on either side. The heady scent of his aftershave filled her senses, his dark eyes glittered with desire, his cheeks were flushed, his forehead beaded with sweat and oh _God _did she want him.

Crying out in frustration, she reached up and clutched handfuls of his shirt. Grabbed his shoulders. Tried to pull him back. But he resisted, his arms rock-hard and quivering, his wet, swollen lips curving with odd satisfaction.

"You think that was meaningless bullshit, Lil?"

She could barely even hear him over the sound of her frantic breathing and the pounding of her pulse in her ears. To answer him would've been impossible. But the triumphant gleam in his eyes told her it was also unnecessary.

"Does Eddie Saccardo make you feel like this?" he ground out. "He do this to you?"

Instinctively, she felt for the diamond pendant, but it seemed to have traveled around to the back of her neck in the melee.

"You tell me, Lil. You tell me, right here, right now, that he loves you like I do. You tell me he makes you feel like this. Makes you want what you want, as bad as you want it, right now. And if he can, Lil? If he can? More power to him."

His eyes raked over her face, lingering on her lips for just a second…and then he pushed himself off the table. Stood up. Turned away. The coldness flooding between them was more than she could bear. Struggling to her feet, she bit her lips to keep her emotions in check. She tasted him, and every inch of her throbbed with need.

"But I don't think he does, Lil. I don't think he does, because if he did, then you wouldn't have kissed me like you just did. You wouldn't be lookin' at me the way you are. You wouldn't be so goddamn jealous of Frankie Rafferty."

Just before he reached the door, he turned back toward her, hands spread wide. "So you gotta decide if what you already got is good enough for you, or if you got the guts to go after what you really want. And if you do…you'll know where to find me."

Lilly knew she should formulate a response, but she couldn't, and the tiny flicker of hope she'd seen in his eyes died.

"But after all this, if you still wanna be with Saccardo? Then go be with him. Go be with him, Lil. God bless. But you sure as hell can't expect me to stand around and watch."

At that, he slammed into the swinging double doors and disappeared without a backward glance.


	23. I Can't Stop Loving You

**A/N: **I hope you all had a wonderful Easter!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Three<strong>

**I Can't Stop Loving You**

_They say that time heals a broken heart  
>But time has stood still ever since we've been apart<em>

Lilly lost track of how long she stood there, her eyes glued to the back of those swinging wooden doors. Staring. Reeling. Waiting.

Waiting…for what? For Scotty to come back?

Suddenly feeling ridiculous, she turned away. No one ever came back for her. And…and why should he? She certainly hadn't given him any reason to. She'd just stood there, mute, while he poured out his heart. Told her exactly why he'd left. Exactly how he felt about her. Exactly the choice she had in front of her.

A choice she hadn't known was hers to make. Scotty was in love with her. _In love _with her. She hadn't quite believed him before, but that kiss had made damn sure to convince her. _God. _She wasn't even sure 'kiss' was the right word to describe it. It—it was an inferno. One that swept through every part of her and left her in smoldering ruins.

So many pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together now. Scotty's grumbling about Saccardo for the last few months. His sweet, caring presence the night of the Blue Ball. His gentle insistence that she not be alone, his reluctance to say good night to her until she'd managed to convince him she wasn't going to dissolve into tears the moment she shut her front door.

His frustration at her willingness to settle for a part-time relationship with Saccardo when he felt she deserved so much more.

Lilly's bitter, self-deprecating chuckle bounced off the brick walls of the empty room. She was a detective, for God's sake, and a damn good one. She prided herself on reading people, on being able to suss out someone's secrets in a single glance. And yet the person she knew best, the person she felt closest to…he loved her, _like that_, and she hadn't had a clue.

Apparently, neither had he. That was at least a small comfort.

Her aimless pacing around the room had led her to a chair lying on its back. The chair Scotty had gripped in his fists and flung away during their fight. After gazing at it for a second, she bent down to pick it up. She might not be able to put her thoughts in any kind of order, but she could at least set the chair to rights.

Her hands lingered on the back of the chair as she straightened it. The same spot where the smooth wood last felt Scotty's white-knuckled grip. She could still smell his aftershave in the air. Still sense his presence. Feel his heat. Her lips still throbbed. Her heart still pounded.

And tears still pricked at her eyes, no matter how much she tried to force them away.

But try she must. Because she couldn't hide back here forever. Sooner or later, she was going to have to go back through the bar. No doubt she'd have to pass goddamn Scotty and his goddamn date, looking smug and seductive in that short leather skirt. What would Scotty do when she swept past? Would he even acknowledge her presence? Would there be any indication that what had transpired between them had affected him as much as it had her? Or would he still be playing it cool? Being that smarmy jackass he'd been when she'd first encountered him this evening?

Oh, screw it. Maybe she'd just go out the back.

Lilly's fingers raked through her hair as she blew out a shaky breath. Just below the buzzing neon clock hung a mirror. It was so streaked, stained, and semi-obscured by an out-of-date Heineken logo that it was practically useless, but even in its dim surface she could see that Scotty's voracious attentions had done quite a number on her hair. Where the hell was that little elastic? She couldn't do much about her unruly mane without a hairbrush, but at the very least she could corral it back into the…

Oh. There it was. She spied it in a corner near the wall, to the right of the table Scotty had just bent her over. Resisting the urge to linger in her memories, to let the recollection of their passion swallow her whole, she stepped carefully around the table and retrieved the slender white circle from the wooden floor. Looping the elastic over her right wrist, she gathered her hair in her hands as best she could, then slid the glorified rubber band off with her left hand, slipped it around her hair, pulled it tight...

…and that's when the elastic snapped, stinging the back of her neck and sailing through the air, where it landed on the table. That table.

As she stood there looking at it, remembering, the thin barrier of her control snapped, too. All she could do was sink down into a chair and sob.

* * *

><p>Scotty burst out the back door of Jones's into the meager patch of pavement that passed for a parking lot. The frosty night air nipped at his overheated skin. His rapid, agitated breaths puffed up in a cloud that quickly chilled the sweat on his face. And his heart still hammered against the walls of his chest, demanding to be let out so it could run back in there and leap into the arms of the woman who'd tattooed her name across it.<p>

Frustration getting the better of him, he smacked the building's rough brick exterior with an open hand. The scrape across his palm felt surprisingly good. Gave him something to focus on besides the burning, angry desire crackling through him. He gritted his teeth against its waves, trying to block out the memories, but it was all pointless. Minutes had passed. Whole minutes, and he could still taste her on his lips. Smell her on his clothes. Feel her hands' feverish passage over his back. His shoulders. His neck. His hair.

He'd done it to prove a point. She'd insisted the kiss in New York was a mistake, and up until a few minutes ago, he'd had little reason to doubt her. But just now, as she'd railed against Frankie, Scotty had figured out the truth. Lilly was jealous. Jealous. She_, _the one who was in a relationship, the one whose damn diamond necklace had stopped him in his tracks, the one who'd come in smelling like sunshine and salt and Saccardo's cheap cologne, who'd dropped the bomb on him that she and Saccardo were going to give it a shot and then flitted off, oblivious to the fact that she'd shattered his heart…_she _was_ jealous._

Which meant there was a distinct possibility that the kiss in New York wasn't just some drunken, meaningless misstep.

So he'd put her to the test. Called her bluff. He'd poured every ounce of passion he felt for her into that one ferocious kiss. He'd never been that rough with anyone before, but never had he been so desperate to make someone see the truth. He'd wanted to show her how he felt, that much was true…but he also wanted to force her to see how _she_ felt about _him._ To make her pull her head out of her pretty little ass and realize what she was missing out on.

It was a snap decision, something he hadn't thought through at all, because if he had, he'd have realized just how goddamn much restraint it would take on his part. That look on her face…dawning realization mixed with fear, overlaid with desperate need. Her swollen, trembling lips. Her flushed cheeks. Her pleading eyes. And when she scrabbled at his shoulders, grabbed his clothes, tried to pull him back to her…oh_, God. _Pride had won out over passion, but it had been a fierce, close battle. Even now he was shaking.

Scotty blew out a breath and dragged a hand through his hair. Passion must not have been prepared to concede just yet, because he still fought an aching urge to just run back in there, grab her, and kiss her until they both saw stars. To bend her over the table again and give them both what they needed. To hell with self-respect. To hell with pride and dignity and everything he'd just said. He couldn't bear the thought that the kisses that still sizzled in his mouth and buzzed through his body were the last ones.

Snarling a series of epithets, he slammed his hand into the bricks all over again.

That was when the door banged open, and Scotty whirled around, heart in his throat, with a sudden surge of wild, irrational hope. Maybe Lilly had come to her senses. Maybe she'd decided she couldn't—

But it wasn't Lilly.

It was Frankie.

"There you are." Her delicate brow creased as she approached him. "Are you all right? I was getting worried."

"Yeah. Fine. Just a…y'know, work thing. It's all good."

"Very convincing, Scotty. I _almost_ believe you. But…" With a low, throaty chuckle, she ran her thumb along his still-tender lower lip. "It's hard to be totally sold when you're wearing your partner's lipstick."

He supposed he should feel guilty, but instead he resented her touch. Resented the intrusion. Resented the fact that, in removing those traces of lipstick, Frankie was also taking away the last he had of Lil.

Frankie smiled sadly down at the slight rosy-red sheen on the pad of her thumb, then wiped it off on her skirt. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

"Look, Frankie…there's nothin' goin' on between me and Lil." Not for the last ten minutes, anyway. But the automatic protest rang false even to his own ears, and the look in Frankie's dark eyes suggested they hadn't rung much truer in hers. He supposed that should bother him, but right now, his heart was so full of Lilly there wasn't room to feel anything else.

Frankie tugged her coat more tightly around her, then reached up and caressed his cheek. "Like I said before…the sweetest lies are the ones we tell ourselves."

Her footsteps receding into the distance mingled with Scotty's heavy sigh as he leaned against the rough brick wall and let his head fall back against it with a quiet thud. The cold had finally seeped through the leftover heat from the back room. His fingertips were starting to go numb.

With any luck at all, the rest of him would soon do the same.

* * *

><p>The clock on Rick Rodgers' bookshelf ticked quietly as the aged author sat across from Lilly, his wrinkled, shaking hands in her steady grasp.<p>

"Bridget. I'll be damned." Rodgers shook his head, and Lilly's heart gave a painful lurch at his struggle to absorb the news. As satisfying as it was to find closure, delivering it was sometimes gut-wrenching. But, difficult as this task was, it was still preferable to being caged in that office, staring at Scotty's empty desk, and knowing she was the cause. That was why, after a mostly-sleepless night, she'd hopped on the six AM train to New York and was now sitting here in Rodgers' study, surrounded by books and papers and dust motes dancing in the morning sunshine.

"Of all the people I would've…I never…it never crossed my mind that…" Rodgers trailed off, then looked up at Lilly. "Her own _sister_, for Chrissake. Why?"

Lilly paused, weighing her words. "She felt threatened by Ellie leaving for New York. She was afraid of being left behind. She thought Ellie was…throwing her away."

"She could've come with us. I—I told Ellie that. I didn't want to do anything to hurt her, or Bridget…I just wanted us to be together."

"I'm…I'm sorry," Lilly said to the blurred, watery version of Rodgers sitting across the desk. It was all she could think of to say.

Rodgers cleared his throat. "So you found…"

A tear spilled down her cheek, and she hastily brushed it away before returning her hand to rest atop Rodgers'. God, what was wrong with her? Though feeling the families' pain wasn't unusual, she was normally able to keep her emotions in check. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was hormones. Maybe Saccardo…_Scotty_…

"Yes," she managed. "We found her car. And her…her…"

"Her body. It's all right, Detective." Rodgers grabbed a Kleenex from the box on his desk and handed it to her.

"Thanks," Lilly replied with a sniffle. Dabbing at the fallen tears, she gave a sheepish, tremulous smile. "I'm not normally like this."

"I think it's beautiful," Rodgers said. "It means you care. It means this is…more than just a job to you. I find that inspiring."

"Thank you. I'd just…I wanted you to be able to write a happier ending, y'know?"

"I know."

Lilly cleared her throat and tried to reassemble the remaining scraps of her professionalism. "If—if you'd like to see…Ellie's car, her belongings, or…I can make arrangements."

"No. Thank you, but no." Rodgers rose from his desk and turned to gaze at the small, black-and-white photo of Ellie on the shelf behind him. "I want to remember Ellie the way she was. The way she lives on in my heart. As my muse. That's how I need to remember her."

Lilly nodded. Closure looked different for everyone.

"I've been waiting for this day—and dreading this day—for forty-five years." Lacing his hands behind his back, he continued to gaze up at the photo, the finality evident in the set of his shoulders, the shuffle of his steps. "I always knew someday, some police officer would come and tell me Ellie was dead."

"How?"

Rodgers turned to face her, a sad smile curving thin lips. "Because if she were alive, she'd have come to me. She never would've left me voluntarily. She tried once, early on. Tried to make a clean break, be faithful to James, but she came back. She told me she couldn't leave me. She just—she couldn't."

Lilly's heart squeezed again, but this time the pain was more personal.

"And I couldn't leave her. Still can't. Even after all these years." Reaching up, he caressed the edge of the photo. "But I do think I can close the book now. I know the end of the story. So I can breathe that sigh you breathe when you reach the end of a book that put you through the emotional wringer, and I can let my gaze linger on the last page, maybe reread the final sentence a couple times, then close it, and put it on the shelf, and go on with my life."

"How will you do that?"

"The way I always have. By writing." With a weary sigh, Rodgers lowered himself into the leather chair at his desk. "I've never stopped, really, but it's been a few years since I've finished anything. My publisher finally quit asking me when my next book would be ready."

"Well, you've written forty-five of them," Lilly said with a smile. "No one could blame you for retiring."

"But that's just it. I don't want to retire." Rodgers punctuated his declaration with an emphatic gesture toward his overstuffed bookshelves. "Writing, it's…it's what I do. It's who I am. And yes, I'm seventy-two, but I'm a long way from dead, I can assure you." There was an almost roguish spark in his blue eyes. "There are a lot of ideas in this old noggin of mine. And now I think it's time to fling some of them at the paper and see if they stick."

"Whatever it is, I'll be first in line to read it."

"Thank you. And…thank you, Detective Rush." Rodgers extended a hand. "For finding Ellie. For coming all the way up here to tell me. Thank you for letting me finally write the ending…even if it wasn't the ending I'd have liked."

Lilly took Rodgers' aged hand in both of hers. "It's an honor. That sounds strange, I guess…but it's true."

"I understand." The lines around Rodgers' eyes deepened as he rose from his desk. "And keep in touch, all right?"

"Absolutely. I'll see you at your next signing."

Rodgers grinned. "I'll be expecting you, Detective."


	24. The Wanderer

**A/N: **For those of you who have been tracking cameo appearances by Castle characters, there are another couple in this chapter. Let me know if you spot them.

GFbach, thank you for leaving such a kind guest review! Your words mean so much. Here's that update you've been waiting for.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Four<strong>

**The Wanderer**

_And when I find myself a-fallin' for some girl  
>I hop right into that car of mine and drive around the world<em>

Scotty's fingers danced, in irritated fashion, over the keys of his laptop. Filling line after line of blank white space on the screen with the interview report he was spending the lunch hour of his second day in Northwest rewriting. After years of doing reports in first person, as was the norm in Homicide, he'd forgotten that the regional detective divisions always used third. A fact Mendoza had taken just a little too much pleasure in pointing out.

In a stomach-punch of irony, he remembered Lilly having essentially the same talk with him during his first week in Homicide, only in reverse. "It's gotta be in their words," she'd said. So, grudgingly, he'd spent his lunch hour rewriting interview reports, just as he was doing here. Six years older. Six years…wiser? Well, maybe. The jury was still out on that one.

The confession was a total duck. Couple punk kids named Kevin O'Connell and Javy Espinoza. Scotty's runaway imagination had hoped for a gang connection, maybe, or some Irish mob involvement, just to keep things interesting. But these two dumbasses were just the standard strung-out junkies needing money for drugs. Game, set, and match. Cases like this one had been a dime a dozen in Narcotics.

A familiar voice broke through the angry clicking of the keys. "Hey, guapo."

"Yeah, yeah. Third person. I know. Workin' on it."

"Good. But I ain't here about that." Scotty glanced up to see Mendoza jerking her thumb toward the lobby. "Couple lowlifes here to see you."

"Lowlifes?"

"Yeah. The tall one says you'll vouch for them, and the shorter, fatter one speaks mostly in grunts."

"Okay…" Scotty paused in his typing to mentally scroll through all their open cases, trying to see if any witnesses or suspects fit her less-than-flattering description.

"Oh, and they're both wearin' cheap-ass suits," Mendoza offered, with a twinkle in her eyes. "That tells me the dress code outpaces the pay scale."

Realization dawning, Scotty broke into a grin and lowered the screen of his laptop. "Send 'em in."

Mendoza turned toward the small hallway that led to the lobby and put her fingers in her mouth for a whistle so shrill it made Scotty wince. "Oye, chicos! Come on back! El Guapo will see you now!" Chuckling at her own joke, she bustled off toward the break room.

A moment later, Jeffries and Vera appeared, their curious gazes darting around the small office Scotty now called his professional home.

"Nice place you got here," was Vera's droll assessment.

"What up, fellas?" Scotty rose from his seat to exchange a hearty handshake with Will and a fist-bump with Nick. It was almost embarrassing how glad he was to see them.

"You eat yet?" Vera asked. Without waiting for a reply, he produced from behind his back a large sack from Geno's and withdrew one of the familiar torpedo-shaped paper-wrapped sandwiches. A grinning Jeffries held up a cardboard drink holder, bowed in the middle from the weight of soda-filled plastic cups.

Scotty's stomach reminded him that no, in fact, he had not eaten, and he pounced on the delicious-smelling sandwich eagerly. "You're the goods, Nicky." Motioning toward a couple empty seats from nearby desks, he lowered himself back into his own. "Those guys are out on the street. Go ahead. Pull up a chair."

Above the din of dragging chairs and unwrapping of additional sandwiches came the clearing of a throat, followed by a snippy question from Mendoza. "Geno's, huh?" she asked from behind Vera. "You bring one for me?"

Without so much as blinking, Vera dug into the bag for another sandwich, which he held over his left shoulder.

"Wow. I was kidding, but…damn, that smells good." She glanced over at Scotty with a smile so warm it almost made her seem human. "Your friends are good people, guapo. They can come visit anytime. Long as they bring snacks." Sandwich in hand, humming quietly to herself, she retreated through the door to the break room.

Scotty's eyes lingered on his new partner's retreating back for a moment, only because he knew when he shifted his gaze to his friends, they'd be staring at him, amusement twinkling in their eyes and tugging at their lips.

"Guapo?" Vera asked. Sure enough, Scotty had correctly predicted his expression.

"Long story." Scotty took another large bite of sandwich in hopes of warding off further questions.

But Jeffries' amusement, it seemed, was focused on Nick. "Automatic extra sandwich? Looks like someone's got you well-trained."

"Shut up," Vera groused.

Chuckling, Will reached for the cup of soda perched on the corner of Scotty's desk. "So how's life treatin' you out here?"

Scotty lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "Can't complain." He really couldn't, all things considered. Steady paycheck, he was still with the department, protecting and serving like he'd always wanted to do. And he didn't have to watch Eddie Saccardo cram his tongue down Lilly's throat. So, while it certainly wasn't his dream job, he could just as certainly do worse.

"Already closed my first case," he added. "Full confession. Just typin' up the report when you guys showed up."

"Awww, someone run off with the piggy bank?" Vera asked.

Scotty arched a brow. "Jewelry, actually. And the vic is none other than Gina Newman."

"Gina Newman? Really?" Vera's face lit up with perverse amusement as he started to gyrate in his chair. "Bow chick-a wow-wow…"

It was Scotty's turn to order him into silence.

"Scotty…" Will's voice was rich with compassion. "Was this…really what you wanted to do?"

Scotty shrugged again and reached for his Coke. "Took one for the team, Will. Someone had to."

"But it didn't have to be you." Jeffries sought his gaze. "I've been thinkin' about retirement…Miller had her reasons…"

"You musta had a reason, too." Vera's voice was overly casual.

Scotty bit off a reply. "I did."

Will's eyes took on a teasing gleam. "That reason…maybe have somethin' to do with an undercover Narc who's got a taste for barbecue and appletinis?"

"Maybe."

Vera turned his smug grin in his partner's direction. "C'mon. Pay up."

Muttering under his breath, Will reached into his shirt pocket and extracted a couple bills, which Vera pocketed with a triumphant cackle. Scotty rolled his eyes. They had a bet riding on this. Of course.

Vera potted his pocket fondly. "Does Lil know how you feel about her?"

"Yeah." Scotty gritted his teeth against the memories of last night. Of the way he'd confessed his love. Of the ferocity of his lips on hers. "She knows."

"Ouch."

Desperate for a distraction, Scotty turned the tables. "I figure…Miller knows how you feel about her, too?"

The look on Nick's face was priceless. Even more so when Will started motioning with his fingers and the shell-shocked Vera finally reached into his pocket, retrieved his just-won cash, and slapped it in the palm of a gleefully chortling Jeffries.

"So you and Kat…how'd that happen?" Scotty asked around another mouthful of his cheesesteak.

Vera reached for a chip. "You…sure you wanna know?"

He wasn't. Not really. But Scotty was genuinely happy for his friend, and genuinely in need of something to think about besides how wrong it had all gone with Lilly. If Vera and Miller could find happiness, _with each other_…well, then maybe there was hope for him, too. Someday.

Scotty summoned a grin. "C'mon. You and Miller? That's gotta come with a story worth hearin'."

"It's actually a lot more boring than you'd think," Vera replied. "My sister had to work late one night and needed me to pick up my niece from ballet class. Turns out it's the same one Kat's kid goes to. So we're sittin' there, all awkward, and then she makes some wise-ass comment about me and ballet...and the next thing we know, the girls are comin' out of class, and we're nowhere near done talkin'." He grinned. "Didn't take too long after that to figure out we had somethin' goin'."

Scotty reached out and gave his friend a brotherly slap on the shoulder. "That's great, man. Happy for you."

He hadn't intended to sound wistful, but the way Jeffries was looking at him told him that he'd managed it anyway.

"Lil and Saccardo won't last, Scotty," Will said. "Take it from one who knows. What they got? That ain't real, man."

Scotty attempted a grin. He supposed it was a sort of comfort, knowing he most likely wouldn't be standing there in an uncomfortable church pew someday, dying inside as he watched a beaming, achingly beautiful Lilly glide down the aisle to pledge herself to Eddie Saccardo, 'til death do they part. Knowing that, eventually, Saccardo would fall by the wayside, and Lilly would be single again, and things would get back to normal.

Except they could never be normal. Not anymore. She wouldn't turn to him for comfort this time. He'd slammed that door and locked it shut. He'd left. Done the same thing to her everyone else had. He wouldn't blame her a bit if she never spoke to him again.

Leaving hurt. But staying would've hurt worse.

"Thanks," he finally said.

The crumpling of wrappers and the squawk of a straw against a nearly-empty cup filled the air as Vera and Jeffries rose from their chairs and started to shrug into their coats.

"Gotta get back," Will said.

"Yeah," Vera agreed. "Much as I might wish otherwise, those damn murders aren't gonna solve themselves."

"Tell Miller I said hi," Scotty said by way of a mischievous farewell.

"Will do…guapo." Vera smirked over his shoulder as he and Will wove their way through the Northwest squad room and headed for the exit.

Goddammit. He missed them. He missed the murder cases.

He missed Lilly.

And he realized, as his suddenly stinging eyes fell on his laptop screen, that he apparently missed doing his interview reports in first person, too. Because, though he could've sworn he'd fixed his earlier mistakes, the lines that filled a page and a half were still riddled with "I" and "me," not "he" and "she."

_Dammit._

Shaking his head, he sighed, closed the document window, and pulled up a fresh page.

He'd get this damn thing right if it killed him.

* * *

><p>Lilly drained the last of her coffee, slid a couple bills under the saucer, and took a final glance around the art-deco all-night café in which she'd just spent the last three hours. Just sitting. Savoring a bottomless cup of coffee and a leisurely rereading of her worn, dog-eared, newly-autographed copy of <em>Rifles and Rings. <em>Drinking in the well-loved words with a newfound appreciation—and affection—for the man who'd penned them.

New York was the city that never slept, and right now, Lilly liked that about it. It was just past midnight, but judging from the colorful, energetic stream of humanity she melted into on the sidewalk as she slipped out into the chilly night air, it might as well be the middle of the afternoon. After the morning's conversation with Rick Rodgers, she couldn't face going home yet, so she'd cashed in some lost hours, turned her phone off, and wandered the streets for the rest of the day. Ducking into shops and cafes. Poking around to see what she might find. Watching people pass on the sidewalk and imagining their life stories. Taking a rare slice of time where she didn't have to work. Where she didn't have an agenda. Where she could just _be. _

Well. Be…and think. Because she sure as hell couldn't do that in Philadelphia. She'd been here all day, walking and thinking, and still the very idea of returning to her hometown filled her with a near-paralyzing anxiety. That made it clear. She couldn't go back until she'd made her choice.

Her choice.

She had a choice. She was still trying to wrap her mind around that fact. Still trying to let it sink in that Scotty, her loyal, steadfast partner, her friend…he _loved_ her. Loved her like _that. _Her toes curled within her shoes at the mere memory of his lips on hers. Of his hands. Of his ragged breathing and glittering ebony eyes. His flushed cheeks and the slight tremors in his body, tremors that spoke of the effort of his restraint. The ferocity of his love for her. _God. _Her blood warmed, her heart raced just thinking about it.

Okay. So there was no question that she wanted him. And…there was no question she had feelings for him. Ever since the Blue Ball, a strange tenderness toward him had been taking root. A want—no, a need—to be near him as much as possible. At work, off work, it didn't matter, she just wanted to be by his side. His steady, comforting presence, his penchant for knowing exactly the right thing to say at exactly the moment she most needed to hear it, the way her heart leaped within her when he flashed that grin…she was growing to crave those things.

And then that _kiss_. That raging inferno of a kiss had scorched off the locks on the deepest part of her heart, awakening even more feelings for him. Feelings so fierce, so powerful, she couldn't put them into words. Feelings that flooded her heart and pressed against its walls so hard she feared the damn thing would break wide open.

There was the rub. Her heart could break. Because Scotty Valens had the power to break it.

She knew, because he'd done it when he left.

He'd told her why. He'd finally been honest with her. And she supposed, in his mind, his decision to transfer out made perfect sense. But he, more than anyone…he knew how badly it would hurt her. He _knew. _And yet he'd done it anyway. Despite his claim to not even be able to picture life without her. Despite his promise to always be there. He'd left, without even a backward glance.

She ached for the joy being with Scotty would doubtless bring. But she wasn't sure she could handle the pain he had the power to cause.

And then there was Eddie. Fun-loving, free-wheeling Eddie. She couldn't deny a certain fondness for him. For the way he'd just swept into her life, turning her annoyance into attraction, picking up her carefully-ordered universe and shaking it, but doing it so smoothly she couldn't even complain. For the way he'd put a smile on her face at a time in her life when she wondered if she'd ever smile again.

She liked him. She really did.

But Scotty was right. Eddie Saccardo didn't make her feel like this. Any of this. His kisses didn't set her on fire. His grin didn't make her heart do flips. His wisecracks didn't bring an automatic smile. His presence in her life wasn't as essential to her as breathing…and his absence didn't make her feel like part of her had been ripped away.

He didn't have the power to break her heart, because she'd never given it to him. She'd never told him of her deepest pain. Of her worst days. He'd never seen her near death, bleeding from a bullet in her chest. He didn't know the truth behind that slightly swollen ridge on the right side of her jaw. He hadn't come to her apartment the day her mother died, laid his hand on her shoulder, and reminded her he was there for her.

Part of this was exactly what drew her to Eddie. With him, she could be whoever she wanted to be. She didn't have to be the fucked-up wreck of a person Scotty would always know she was. Eddie would never ask the hard questions…but neither would he answer them. She didn't know a damn thing about him, really. Didn't know about his childhood, about his family, about the events, both good and bad, that had shaped him.

Maybe Scotty was right. Maybe her relationship with Saccardo did have a limit to its depth. But his assertion that the relationship also had a ceiling? That might not be the case anymore. Because Eddie had offered to stick around. To stop going undercover—leave a job she knew he loved—so they could be together. Have a real chance. And if he did that, if he were around more, if he were there, in her life…perhaps the relationship could deepen naturally.

But was that really what she wanted?

Lilly sighed and shoved a lock of hair behind her ear, momentarily envious of Rick Rodgers. He'd been so sure Ellie hadn't left him of her own free will. He'd known she'd come back for him, and when she didn't, he knew something had happened to her. He was secure in her love. He was safe. He knew. He didn't have to guess. Didn't have to wonder. What must that be like?

Maybe she had a chance to find out. Maybe, if Saccardo were around, if they were able to have a normal relationship, if they both took the leap and gave it a good honest try, then…maybe she'd know. Maybe she'd learn. Maybe they both would.

Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe it would crash and burn. But if it did, she could take comfort in the fact that it wouldn't hurt her as badly as Scotty's sudden departure from the squad had. She wouldn't feel that searing, white-hot heartbreak, followed by the icy emptiness of being alone. Her heart would remain protected. Intact. If the relationship failed, she knew she could emerge on the other side still strong. Still whole.

And as for the fire Scotty had lit in her soul? Well. Deprived of fuel, that fire would, in time, die quietly away. She was almost positive. Besides, if she ever found herself missing the pleasure he'd given, there was always the pain that came with it to remember him by.

At that, Lilly nodded to herself. The turmoil was muted. The chaos ordered into calm resolve. Resolve that finally allowed her to walk the seven blocks to the train station, buy a ticket, and board a train back to Philadelphia. Back to safety. Back to security.

Back to Eddie Saccardo.


	25. Everybody Loves Me But You

**A/N:** As many of you have guessed, we are nearing the end of this story, much as it pains me to say it. Just two chapters after this one, but I suspect there will also be an epilogue.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Five<strong>

**Everybody Loves Me But You**

For the second time in three days, Scotty stepped through the soaring stone archways of Gina Newman's cavernous front porch. He rang the bell and then waited, feeling sort of silly standing there, holding a large white cardboard box filled with the jewelry they'd recovered from a handful of local pawn shops.

But at least he was finally _doing_ something. Something besides paperwork and errands. Upon officially closing the case earlier that morning, Mendoza had given him the box of Gina's jewels with a wink and a smile. "You've earned it, guapo. Go work your magic." So it seemed he'd finally done something to get on his new partner's good side; at least he had that going for him.

Come to think of it, Mendoza's slight thaw appeared to have coincided with Nicky and Will bringing lunch to the precinct yesterday. He'd have to thank them later. Miller, too; there was no way in hell Vera would've thought to bring an extra cheesesteak apart from her influence.

Just then the enormous front door creaked open to reveal a beefy-looking security guard, his hand on his weapon. "State your name and business."

Scotty resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Detective Valens. Philly PD."

A sharp, skeptical gaze raked over him. "Let's see some ID, 'Detective.'"

Grumbling under his breath, Scotty shifted the box in order to retrieve his badge from his belt. He couldn't believe he actually had to prove his identity to this pompous pissant.

The guard eyed the proffered shield as if memorizing it for an exam. "You really badge number 9136, Valens?"

"Since the day I graduated Academy."

"And when would that have been?"

"August 13, 1994." He answered the guard's skeptical, narrow-eyed glare with a steely one of his own. "Go ahead. Look it up. I'll wait."

"I don't like your tone, 'Detective.' I just might do exactly tha—"

"It's okay, Roy." Gina Newman's voice bounced off her marble -tiled entryway, accompanied by the clicking of her shoes. "I know Valens. He's one of the detectives working my case."

This overstuffed, overinflated guard stared fiercely at Scotty for another moment, then reluctantly stepped aside to let him enter. Which he did, not even trying to hide his satisfied smirk.

"You all right here, Mrs. Newman?" Roy asked, still studying Scotty with deep distrust.

"Just fine. Thank you," she said. Roy answered with a crisp nod, then shot one last attempt at a lethal glare in Scotty's direction as he marched off down the hall.

Gina gave an uncomfortable sigh and folded her arms across her chest. "Sorry about that. It's his first day. I'm…still a little shaky."

"Understandable." Grinning, Scotty held out the box. "Maybe this'll help?"

Gina popped off the lid, her brilliant blue eyes widening. "My jewelry!"

"Every last piece." Despite the underwhelming nature of most of the cases he'd be working now, Scotty had to admit to feeling some pride, some satisfaction, in righting this particular wrong.

The gemstones glittered in the morning light as Gina took a moment to pore through them. Then, beaming, she engulfed both Scotty and the box in a fragrant, enthusiastic hug, replete with a series of air-kisses and a litany of thank you's. "You are my hero, Detective Valens. My absolute _hero." _

"Just doin' my job, Mrs. Newman." Shifting the box, he gave her back an awkward pat.

"Oh, you boys always say that, don't you?" Finally releasing Scotty from her embrace, she took the box and hollered for Roy, whose scurrying footsteps echoed throughout the foyer.

"You called, Mrs. Newman?" Roy's hand was on his gun again; his expression as he looked at Scotty making it clear he was almost salivating at the chance to use it.

"Could you put these back in the safe, please?" She handed him the box, and Scotty couldn't help but smirk again at the guard's undisguised disappointment as he trundled back down the hall, Gina's jewelry secure in his meaty arms.

Scotty turned back to see Gina regarding him with a curious look in her eyes, one penciled brow arched, a grin playing at the corners of her artificially-plumped lips. "So now that all this drama is behind us," she said, "I want to hear how come they brought you in from Homicide just to work my case."

Scotty flashed a tight smile. "Well, I ain't…Homicide anymore, Mrs. Newman. Transferred over to Northwest a couple days ago. You were my first job."

Gina's eyes opened wide. "You—you're not a murder cop anymore? Why?"

"It's, uh…it's complicated."

"Ooooh." Gina was practically purring. "Complicated. I _love_ complicated."

"I guess it ain't…that complicated." He stared at his shoes, the black leather a sharp contrast against the white marble floor. "Budget cuts. Brass told my old lieutenant they needed to cut a salary from Homicide."

Gina's manicured hand flew to her generous chest. "_What?_ Oh, that's terrible."

"There was this spot in Northwest, though, so I was able to transfer over. Stay with the Department."

"So why in the world did your boss decide to cut you?" Gina's eyes flitted over Scotty from head to toe in a familiar, hungry evaluation. "I watch enough cop shows to know Homicide always gets the best guys, and you?" Her lips curved in a seductive smile. "You're definitely the best."

Scotty plastered on the grin he'd adopted for this sort of conversation and pulled out the rehearsed reply he'd spit out so many times it was starting to lose its meaning. "The boss didn't cut me, Mrs. Newman. I volunteered. Took one for the team."

"Wow, that's so generous of you." Gina's smile faded as she looked at him. "But is that what you really wanted?"

Dammit. Why did everyone keep asking him that?

"Protect and serve, Mrs. Newman." He kept his grin firmly in place. "Long as I'm doin' that, it doesn't matter where I am."

Laughing low and in her throat, Gina ran a long, manicured fingernail along the lapel of his jacket. "Good thing you became a cop, Scotty, because you'd have never made it as a criminal."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because you're a _terrible _liar."

With a sheepish grin, he turned to leave. "You take care of yourself, Mrs. Newman."

"You, too, Detective. See you at the Blue Ball next year?"

Scotty gave a bitter chuckle. No matter how many cheesesteaks he bribed his new partner with, he was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to escape it. He could almost hear Mendoza now. _New guy puts on the tux, guapo. Go suck up to Gina Newman. Do your thing. Get her to buy us a new fax machine._

"I'll be there," he said. Of that he was almost positive.

* * *

><p>Steaming-hot cardboard cup of triple Americano in hand, Lilly stepped off the office elevator and headed down the hallway toward the squad room. Upon her 3 AM return from New York, she'd managed to snag a few hours' sleep, take a shower, and feed her cats, and now she was here, ready for the new work day and whatever challenges it held. Or at least she would be, once that rocket fuel kicked in.<p>

It seemed like eons since she'd been in this office, though it was really only a couple of days. Last time she was here, she was sitting at Scotty's empty desk. Reeling from his departure. And that was nothing compared to an hour later, after his words, after that_ kiss_…

But now, she wasn't reeling. She was firm. Steady. Resolved. She was staying with Eddie. Holding on to her heart. It was safer that way.

Stashing her sidearm in her locker and closing the door with a defiant slam, she turned and walked into the squad room, steeling herself against the inevitable ache of Scotty's empty desk. No amount of resolve could protect her from that. She comforted herself with the thought that the pain would fade with time.

It had to.

But when she rounded the corner into the sprawling squad room, she pulled up short.

Scotty's desk wasn't empty.

Lilly gave a quiet gasp; a bit of hot coffee splashed from the cup onto the back of her hand. The man occupying Scotty's seat had his back to her, but her heart leaped for joy at the sight of the midnight-dark, close-cropped hair. The broad shoulders swathed in the navy blue, yellow-lettered windbreaker they wore to crime scenes.

_Scotty. _He was here. He'd come back. Come back for her.

But the dark hair wasn't quite dark enough. The broad shoulders too broad. The coffee concoction in the clear plastic cup was too frozen, the hand clutching it too big, the booted foot propped on the desk far too casual.

It wasn't Scotty. It was Saccardo. And her heart sank as though its elevator cable had snapped.

Eddie must've heard her come in, because he turned to look over his shoulder. Too-thick brows arched; too-light eyes sparkled. "Hey, gorgeous."

"Hey." What the hell was he doing here? _Here_, in the office? Sitting—sitting at _Scotty's _desk, like he owned the damn thing? Why not her desk? Or Nick's, or Kat's, or—or anyone but Scotty's? She'd thought there wouldn't be anything worse than seeing that empty desk…but seeing it filled by someone else? That was worse.

"Thought you'd be happy to see me." Saccardo's smirk faltered a bit at the corners.

Stuffing down the unpleasant emotions, Lilly set her coffee on her desk and shrugged out of her coat. "No, no, I was. I am. I just…" _Wanted you to be someone else. _"It was a surprise, that's all."

Eddie broke into a relieved grin. "Oh, good. So you haven't heard yet."

"Heard what?"

His grin widened, and she knew.

"Garces," she said.

"Yep. Over. Finito. He's goin' away until hell freezes over." Eddie's eyes shone with pride. "It was an unassailable triumph. Wish you could've been there to see it."

"Me, too." Juan Antonio Garces, one of the vilest drug lords in Philly's history, had been Saccardo's entire world for the past two years. And now Eddie had emerged the victor. He'd come back to the surface. He was back. He was here.

And yet…he wasn't the one she wanted to see sitting here. At Scotty's desk. Why, _why _couldn't he have just picked somewhere else to sit? At least when the desk was empty she could still picture Scotty there. Could pretend, for just a moment, that he hadn't left. But now, with Saccardo's larger-than-life presence filling the desk, his damn Timberland boot plopped on the surface, dangerously close to Scotty's favorite mug, his musky cologne overpowering the last remaining molecules of Scotty's comforting spicy aftershave…she was overwhelmed by the sheer _wrongness _of it all. It was like he was trying to erase everything she had left of her partner. To—to _replace _him. And he couldn't do that. He couldn't replace Scotty no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't replace Scotty.

He…couldn't replace Scotty.

"It's all over the news," Eddie was saying, and Lilly forced her reeling mind to focus on his words. "They're callin' me a hero, but of course I was just doin' my job." He looked up at her, a slightly wounded expression in those golden brown eyes. "I…came by your place last night after it was all over. Wanted you to be the first to know."

"Yeah?"

He started to toy with the straw in his coffee. "I waited for a while, but…you never showed."

"Sorry, I…I was in New York." Her own voice sounded a million miles away, and there was a hint of concern in his expression.

"Work," she added quickly. "Tyin' up some loose ends on the King job. It…kinda turned into a late night."

Eddie slid his boot off Scotty's desk, and Lilly couldn't hide her sigh of relief. "You get your guy?" he asked.

"Girl…yeah." Briefly, she recapped the case for Eddie.

"Proud of you, Rush." Grinning, he lifted his frozen coffee concoction in a silent toast. "Knew it wouldn't take you long."

"Well, thanks for findin' the case for us." Lilly lifted her own coffee cup, the memory of poring through Ellie's suitcase with him suddenly seeming like it happened a lifetime ago.

Saccardo smiled, then cleared his throat and leaned forward in Scotty's chair. "So…I'm under strict orders from the boss man not to darken the door of the office for at least a week."

"Yeah?" Lilly's stomach began to churn uncomfortably at the suddenly-serious look in his eyes. "You got plans?"

"Well, that kinda depends on you." Eddie took a sip of his drink. "Pretty sure you got enough lost hours to take off from now 'til Christmas if you want to. So I'm thinkin' we could…lay low. Hole up in someone's apartment and not come out for a week."

The churning grew worse. A few days ago, she'd have thought this ideal.

"Or, hell, maybe we just take off," he continued. "Go somewhere. Kick back."

Her eyes widened. "Go where?"

"I dunno…Tahiti, maybe?"

"Tahiti?" She started to shake her head slowly. "Eddie, I—I can't…"

"Can't?" The look in his eyes was searching. Piercing. "Or won't?"

And here it was. The moment of truth. He needed her decision. And when she entered the office, she thought she had one. But now, here he was. He'd come back for her. He wanted to be with her. To be there for her.

And all Lilly could think about was how much she wanted him to be Scotty instead.

Oh.

Oh, dammit.

Dammit.

_Dammit. _

Her plan to stay safe, to keep her heart protected, had one fatal flaw: her heart's stubborn refusal to go along with it. Her heart wanted Scotty. It craved Scotty. It had, at its center, a hollow place that could only be filled by Scotty.

The truth slammed into her like a bullet.

She loved Scotty.

She was in love…with _Scotty._

_Dammit._

The last of her resolve unraveled like a ball of yarn in an eager kitten's paws. She couldn't go through with this. She couldn't be in a relationship with someone she didn't love. It wouldn't be fair to either one of them. Eddie Saccardo was a wonderful guy, and he deserved to be loved. To find someone who would give him her heart, not wall it off for safekeeping.

Regardless of how things turned out with Scotty, she had to let go of Saccardo.

Lilly glanced around, suddenly keenly aware of the other detectives starting to mill around the room. "Eddie…can we take this somewhere more private?"

"Sure." His eyes clouding, Saccardo swallowed and stood up from Scotty's desk. He seemed to know what was coming. And maybe that would make it easier.

Lilly opened the door to the interview room and allowed him to enter first, then stepped in, closed the door quietly behind her, and faced him on the other side of the table.

"My Spidey senses are tellin' me you didn't call me back here to take me up on my offer to quit Narcotics," he said lightly.

With a sad smile, she shook her head.

He sighed. "Figured as much." Turning away from her, he started to pace the small enclosure on the other side of the table. Slow, measured, loping steps; his steady progress reflected in the mirror behind him. "I thought, y'know, maybe if I gave you some time to think about it, you…wouldn't flip out on me. Wouldn't—"

"I'm not flippin' out, Eddie," she said with a pang of sympathy. "It's…it's not that."

He searched her face. "There someone else?"

"Yes." Unable to bear the sadness in his eyes, she dropped hers to the tabletop. "I'm sorry."

"Okay." Eddie blew out a breath. "Who?"

"You sure you wanna know?" Her mind flashed suddenly to James Fleming, who'd sat here at this very table, telling her he'd never asked his fiancée who'd stolen her heart, because he simply couldn't bear to know the man's name.

"I got a hunch," Eddie replied. Lilly glanced up to see him fiddling with his shield. "Guess my detective's ego wants to know if I'm right."

Lilly took a deep breath. "It's…my partner. Valens."

"I knew it." Saccardo gave a quiet chuckle. "I knew that guy was trouble from the moment I met you. I saw the way he was lookin' at you. I knew…I knew if I was ever gonna have any competition for you?" He raised dark eyes to her, an unsteady index finger punctuating his words. "It'd be him. I just…kinda hoped it'd stay one-sided, y'know?"

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing she could think of to say.

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug, though he didn't look at her. "The heart wants what it wants."

"If it's any consolation…" Lilly leaned on the table, seeking his gaze. "I didn't think for a minute your heart wanted to give up your undercover work."

He raised his head then, dark eyes lasering straight into hers. "My heart wanted you."

Those four little words were like a dagger. Oh, how she wished she could return his feelings. He was such a wonderful guy. _Such _a wonderful guy. And it would make things so much easier.

But feelings were never easy, were they?

Lilly found herself unconsciously scraping the pad of her thumb over the surface of the diamond pendant he'd given her. A gesture she'd repeated often over the last several days, always when she was trying to force herself to feel something she didn't feel.

Well. Something she did feel.

But not for the one who'd given her that diamond.

With a shaky smile, she undid the clasp. "I…guess I should give this back to you."

He nodded, and she held the pendant out and let it spill, shimmering, into the palm of his outstretched hand.

"Listen, Eddie…I wanna thank you. After I was shot, I…I wasn't myself for a long time. And you helped me through all that. You helped me learn to smile again. To laugh again." Lilly swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "I won't forget that."

Across the table from her, Eddie cleared his throat as he tucked the necklace into the pocket of his coat. "He's a good guy. Valens." He said Scotty's name as though tasting a familiar food covered in a different sauce. "Got a good heart. He'll take care of you."

Her eyes snapped up to search his expression. "How do you know?"

"He was there for you." With a sad smile, Saccardo started for the door. "He was there when I wasn't."

"Hey." Ignoring the pang of irony Saccardo's comment brought, Lilly tugged at the sleeve of his jacket, and he turned, one hand on the doorknob.

"Be careful, okay?" She scanned his face with pleading eyes. "The only time I wanna see your name in the news is when you're some big hero."

He grinned. A shadow of his trademark smirk. "Only if you make me the same promise, Rush."

Lilly smiled. "Done."

"All right, then." He stood there for a moment, searching her eyes, looking as though he were about to say something else, but then flashed a tight-lipped grin, slipped from the room, and closed the door behind him.

With a heavy sigh, Lilly sank down at the table and cradled her forehead in her hands. Despite the ache of saying goodbye, she knew it was the right thing. Eddie Saccardo deserved more than being a consolation prize. He deserved to find someone who would give him her heart without reservation. Who, if he were to sacrifice his undercover work for her, would make that sacrifice worth it.

She wasn't sure yet that she could trust Scotty with her heart. Even less sure was she that he'd still be waiting around for her to make up her mind. For all she knew, he'd closed the book on her and was in it whole-hog with Frankie Rafferty.

But Lilly was sure she loved him. Adored him. Didn't want to go another day without him.

And because of that, a new resolve formed.

Maybe it was too late for them. Maybe it'd all crash and burn.

But her stubborn, ridiculous, irrational heart wouldn't let her rest until Scotty knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, how she felt.


	26. I Choose You

**A/N: **Enjoy, y'all.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six<strong>

**I Choose You**

_Tell the world that we finally got it all right  
>I choose you<br>I will become yours and you will become mine  
>I choose you<em>

The mouth of the beer bottle was a frosty kiss on Scotty's lips as he poured yet another swallow of the chilled amber liquid down his throat. The cold of the glass seeped through his gloves; the chill of the late-autumn air bled through the double layers of his favorite gray hoodie and the heavy Phillies jacket he'd thrown on over it. But none of that could compare to the icy numbness in his heart.

He sat in a lawn chair on the roof of his building, the city lights twinkling before him like dozens of tiny stars, the cars swishing by on the brick streets below, echoing the slosh of the beer in the bottle as he lowered it to his lap and twirled it absently in his fingers.

He'd only brought out one chair this time. No need for a second one. Not tonight.

No, on this night, it was just him. Him and his beer and the traffic and the cloudy night sky. He sat there, wondering where Lilly was. What she was doing. Who she was doing it with. Trying like hell not to wonder. Loving her. Hating her.

Missing her.

He supposed this would be more or less the permanent state of things, after the way they'd left them the other night at Jones's. He'd made his position perfectly clear…but so had she. And the last couple nights as he'd sat here on the roof mulling it over, he'd been forced to face stark reality. Though leaving had been the least painful course of action for him, his doing so had undeniably hurt the woman he loved. And in that back room, he'd seen just how deep the wound ran. He'd seen the depthless pain in her eyes, heard her hurt, angry words. He, the one who'd have done anything to remove all the scars on her heart, had inflicted a deep one of his own.

It seemed self-preservation had come at a price. A steep one.

"Thought I might find you here."

It took Scotty a second to realize that the voice wasn't just in his head, but actually there. Behind him. Off to his right. He turned around just to be sure, and there she was. Lilly. Wrenchingly beautiful in a pool of lamplight. That blue woolen scarf wrapped around her neck, the escaped blonde wisps from her ponytail signifying another long day.

His heart soared and sank at the sight of her. Annoyed, he cuffed the ridiculous organ and locked it in a holding cell of extreme caution. What the hell was Lilly doing here? What did she want now?

"I should give this back to you." Only when she lifted her right arm slightly did he notice the ebony fabric draped over it, an almost seamless blend with the black overcoat she wore. It was his tux jacket. The one he'd given her to wear the night of the Blue Ball. He'd forgotten all about it until just now.

Apparently she'd remembered, though. And here she was to give it back. To sever the final tie between them.

Unable to bear the sting of salt in his self-inflicted wounds, he turned away. "Thanks. Just, uh…put it down somewhere." He'd tried like hell to keep the snarl out of his voice, but he wasn't sure quite how successful he was.

There was a long pause; he pictured her blinking, wounded.

"Wouldn't want it to get dirty," she finally said.

Shrugging, Scotty studied the toes of his sneakers. "Figure I…gotta get it cleaned anyway." _Cleaned, so it won't remind me of you. Good luck, Speedy Kleen. Ain't gonna be that easy._

There was another pause, one that stretched on for so long he was starting to wonder if she had, in fact, just left his jacket and slipped, ghost-like, into the night.

But the quiet shuffle of shoes on the concrete told him she was still there.

"We, uh…we found Ellie King's body. Her car."

Scotty lifted the beer to his lips again and watched a taxi roll to a stop on the street below. "Figured you would."

"Bottom of the Schuylkill. Just like her sister told us when she confessed to the murder." Lilly's shoes scraped against the cement again. "Thought you…might wanna know."

The sister. Huh. He didn't see that one coming.

"Appreciate it, Lil, but…do I really gotta remind you I ain't Homicide anymore?"

"So, what, you don't care?"

"I _can't _care." Finally, he turned to look at her and saw his own hurt and anger reflected in the bottomless pools of her eyes. They stared at one another for a long moment before she lowered her gaze to the ground and hugged his coat closer to her.

"Look, Scotty…Saccardo's gone."

Scotty gave a bitter chuckle and turned his attention back to the cityscape. "Thought you said he was plannin' to stick around."

"He was," Lilly replied. "But…now he's not. Stickin' around, that is."

"Can't say I'm surprised." Scotty took another gulp of beer. "So where's he off to this time? Goin' back under?"

"I don't know." There was a strange lightness to her voice. A smile, almost?

"Okay…"

Behind him, she pulled in a breath. "Scotty, Eddie's not just on a job. He's…gone for good."

"So…what? You need a shoulder to cry on?" He turned to glance at her over his shoulder. "'Cause I _can't,_ Lil. You know that."

"Scotty, I ended it with him. This morning. I—I ended it because…" Her blazing eyes locked on his. "Because I want to be with you."

Scotty's stupid, optimistic heart flung itself against the walls of its cell. He ordered it to quiet down as he took a moment to study Lilly through the fine mist that had begun to swirl in the air. A siren wailed in the distance, barely audible over the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

"You sure it's me you want, Lil? Or do you just not wanna be alone?" He gazed back into the beer bottle. "I can't be your second choice. Can't be the one you…settle for."

"Scotty." The plaintive desperation in her voice drew his attention and threatened his carefully-constructed defenses. "You told me I deserved someone I couldn't let walk away from me. Remember? That night in the office, after we went to the classic car expo…you said I deserved someone I couldn't stand to be without. And—and that's you." A tentative smile. "It's _you_."

"Lil—"

"But it's not just me who deserves that. You deserve it, too. You deserve to have someone who doesn't want to be without you for a week…a day…even an hour. Someone who can't breathe without you, remember?" Her eyes were shining. "Scotty, when Eddie left the night of the ball, I was sad…and then I wasn't. Because you were there." Her fingers caressed the fabric of the tux jacket, still draped over her arm. "But when you left? It didn't matter who else was there for me…you were gone. You were gone, and I couldn't breathe."

Scotty was stunned. Floored. Even his overly enthusiastic heart was frozen in place. Because here she was, right here in front of him, saying words he hadn't even dared to dream of her saying. Words he'd ached to hear, from the only person he ever wanted to hear them from.

But this soon? This soon after she was giving it a go with Saccardo? This soon after she'd shattered his heart?

Scotty cleared his throat. Blinked suddenly stinging eyes. "Lil…that night…in front of the museum, when we were waitin' for that witness that turned out to be Saccardo? I was gonna tell you…how I felt about you. I was gonna tell you…"

"Scotty…" Tears were filling her eyes, and he had to look away lest he lose his battle with his own.

"And then when he whisked you off to the shore, and you came back the next mornin' sayin' he was gonna be around, that you two were gonna give it a chance? Lil, my heart just…it broke. And I don't know if I can—"

"_Your _heart broke?" Her shrill anger jerked his attention back to her face. "You wanna talk about a broken heart? Scotty, what the hell do you think you did to me when you left the squad?"

The hot tear pooling in the inner corner of his right eye was the only respite from the cold. Even if he could've found the words to answer her, the thickness in his throat wouldn't have let him speak.

"But...I'm here anyway." Her voice was suddenly soft. Tender. Closer.

Surprised at the sudden change, he wiped away the tear, swallowed hard, and looked up. She'd crossed from the doorway to the corner of the rooftop, his coat in her hands, her eyes suddenly, inexplicably radiant.

"I'm here. You broke my heart, and yet…here I am. Giving it right back to you. I'm standing here, holdin' it out, and—and maybe you'll break it again. I don't know." She took a shaky breath. "And my head wanted me to run away. To find someone who didn't have the power to hurt me. Someone I could keep on the outside. But—but my heart was too damn stubborn. My heart wanted you."

Draping his coat over the railing, she spread her hands wide, then let them fall quietly to her sides. "So…here I am. I'm here, because it's you, and—and I love you, Scotty. No matter what happens…I love you."

Her words broke him. Obliterated all his defenses. He couldn't protect himself from her now if he wanted to, and now there wasn't a reason. Because she'd just said she loved him. And if he couldn't believe her words, he could believe her eyes. Her smile. The soft, ethereal glow on her face. All of it crumbled every last barrier between them.

Slowly, he stood up. The beer left his hand, though he couldn't remember setting it down. At the edge of his consciousness he heard the lawn chair fall to the ground. But all he cared about was getting to Lilly.

"Goddammit, Lil," he whispered when he reached her, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

Wrapping her arms around him, she responded with a quiet little sob against his lips. He felt her slight frame shudder as he deepened the kiss, pouring into it all the words he couldn't articulate, and the soft moan she gave in response turned his knees to liquid. Her soft hands cupped the back of his neck. Her long fingers trailed through his hair. Every inch of his skin she touched suddenly felt like it was on fire, and everywhere she wasn't touching grew more and more eager to have a turn.

At length, she broke the kiss and pulled back, her long lashes wet and glossy. Tears streaked her gorgeous face; with a murmur of sympathy, he thumbed them away.

"Scotty." Her voice was thick, her breathing shallow. "You can't leave me again." She raised watery eyes to him, eyes that spoke volumes as to what it would do to her if he did, and how unsure she still was that he'd protect the fragile, battle-scarred heart she was entrusting him with.

Scotty looked deep into her eyes, willing her to trust him. To believe him. "I won't, Lil. I _can't. _ Because I tried livin' without you, and—and I couldn't take it." He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I love you. So damn much. And knowin' I hurt you? Knowin' I caused you that pain? It's killin' me."

She gave a quiet sniffle and a small smile. Encouraged, he drew her closer and leaned his forehead against hers.

"I know my word probably doesn't mean much to you right now, but…if you'll give me a chance, Lil, I swear to God I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I ain't goin' nowhere. Not again. Never again."

He would've said more, but she stole whatever words remained when she captured his lips in hers. The forgiveness, the promise, the love in that kiss was beyond anything he'd ever felt. Beyond anything he could've ever even imagined.

The tender ecstasy of her kiss, of her embrace, was muddled on the very edges by a frustrating inability to feel the warm satin of her skin beneath his fingertips. The silk of her hair playing over the back of his hand. What the hell? He wasn't feeling cold anymore, that was for sure…had he gone over the line to numbness?

Oh. Gloves. The goddamn gloves.

If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, he probably would've laughed at himself. As it was, he tore his lips away from Lilly's with a furious growl and ripped off the gloves with his teeth, then joyfully, greedily returned his mouth to hers. His delighted fingers, freed from their fleece-and-leather prison, skated over the delicate arc of her cheekbone. Beneath the edge of her scarf. Then up, through her ponytail to tug at the elastic that contained it. Her hands were already awaiting him there, her feather-light fingertips raising goosebumps as they brushed against his skin. Then she gave a gentle yank, and her glorious hair spilled out over his delighted fingers.

Scotty moaned into her mouth, what little remained of his restraint utterly lost in the flood of his love for her. Gradually, he moved to kiss the ridge of her jaw. Her neck. That delicious little spot beneath her left ear. He reveled in the sounds of pleasure she made. Sighs. Fragments of words. His name.

And then he unwound the scarf from around her neck, his lips traveling down the smooth center of her throat to the heated hollow at its base. That secret place where her scent pooled, where he could drink her in, where his lips could caress the delicate curve of that little notch, where his tongue could draw a low, lusty groan from her…

…and where that diamond necklace, he realized with a start, once resided but no longer did.

It was true. Saccardo was gone. And now there was nothing to stop him. She was finally, fully, his.

Nearly exploding with joy, Scotty kept going. Frantic fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. His name floated past his ear on her breathless moan. Nothing was stopping him now. Nothing. Nothing…

"Scotty," she gasped as she pulled away.

Well, okay. Except that.

Heart pounding, he looked up at her, but her glittering, deep blue eyes didn't seem to be telling him to stop. Her lips were wet and swollen from their kisses, her cheeks flushed, the tip of her nose slightly pink, her panting breaths puffing up around her face…God, she was beautiful.

She gave a sheepish smile. "Scotty, I—I'm freezing."

He wasn't. The fire of love burned so hot he wasn't sure he'd ever be cold again. But Lilly was shivering, and he'd be damned if she suffered one more second on his account. Besides, she deserved far better than a cold concrete floor on a damp, drizzly rooftop.

Relieved, he broke into a grin. "I can fix that."

"Yeah?" She smiled.

"Oh, yeah." His grin widening, he picked her up in his arms and smothered her surprised laugh with another kiss. Grabbing his tux jacket from where she'd draped it over the railing, he covered her with it, then maneuvered her across the roof and down the narrow little stairwell to the hallway outside his apartment. Reluctantly setting her down, he fumbled with his keys and jammed them blindly into the lock, then shouldered the door open and brought Lilly into the cozy warmth, kissing her all the while.

The moment the door shut behind them, she pressed him against the back of it and took over. Nimble fingers popped open the snaps of his coat as greedy lips continued to ravage his. Her hands slid beneath the coat to his shoulders, and then it fell to the floor. She made quick work of his hoodie, too, tearing it off over his head and sending it to lie on top of his coat.

Kissing her hungrily, he unwound the scarf from around her neck and slid her coat from her shoulders, then guided her, legs tangling, to the bedroom, where he pressed her to the mattress and looked down to find her beaming.

"Warmer?" he asked.

Mischief sparked in her deep blue eyes. "Getting there."

Those were the last coherent words either of them spoke for quite some time.


	27. Love Me Warm and Tender

**A/N:** It is rewarding, yet so very, very difficult to come to the end of a story of this magnitude. It is only out of respect for the story that this is the final chapter; otherwise, I would totally keep going.

I deeply appreciate each and every one of you who took the time to read this story. I've really enjoyed getting to know all of you and would love to stay in touch! I'm pretty active on Facebook and occasionally active on Twitter; if you would like to connect with the real-life me, message me and let me know!

Thank you, and enjoy the final chapter. Well, the final real chapter. Because of course I'm writing an epilogue. :)

Oh, and those of you who have been paying attention to all the Castle cameos may have noticed the omission of one rather important character. Well, look no further. She's here.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Seven<strong>

**Love Me Warm and Tender**

If Lilly's feet touched the tile floor of the lobby when she entered Headquarters the next morning, she wasn't aware of it. Her face hurt from the smile that had more or less become a permanent fixture. She was sure her co-workers would know something was up. No doubt they'd look at her strangely and demand to know if she was sick or something. But she was just so damn in love with Scotty Valens she couldn't be bothered to care.

She'd always heard things like this could happen when one was in love, but she'd never experienced it until now. The crystal-blue sky outside looked bluer than she'd ever seen it. The echoes of voices bounced off the walls of the lobby with far more cheer than usual. The coffee from the wagon outside was richer and more aromatic, not bitter the way it usually was. Hell, even the bell on the elevator as it dinged to alert her to its arrival sounded a bit perkier than she remembered.

Stepping inside, Lilly pressed the button, then closed her eyes, took a sip of coffee, and sank back into the heat of memories from last night. She'd looked into those bottomless eyes millions of times over the years, but never had she seen them so rich with love or so dark with desire. She'd felt his hands on her before, but never like this; never with such passionate intent or genuine adoration. She'd heard him talk to her for years, but never had she heard his voice so thick with feeling and want. Never had she heard such beautiful words of love pour from his lips. And no one—_no one_—had ever touched the very depths of her heart the way Scotty had. Every kiss, every caress, every whispered word had lodged themselves in a place she thought she'd long ago locked away.

The elevator door gave a sudden lurch, and Lilly's eyes snapped open to reveal a tanned hand sliding between the two halves just before they closed. It was a hand she knew well, attached to a body she now knew in its entirety, and connected to a boyish, self-satisfied smirk she'd seen for years, but never once been the cause of.

"Hey," she said around a delighted giggle. It took her a moment to realize Scotty wasn't supposed to be here, but she wasn't about to complain. Especially not with him stealing around behind her and sliding warm, strong arms around her waist just as the doors thunked shut.

"Mornin'." She could hear the grin in his voice. Feel it against her skin as he bent his head to plant kisses along the side of her neck. "Well….mornin' again, I should say."

Chuckling, Lilly let her head fall back onto his shoulder so his gentle ministrations could continue, but a current of curiosity thrummed alongside her building desire.

"What are you doing here?" The question came out sounding like a purr, and Scotty laughed quietly against her skin.

"Dunno exactly." He turned her around and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then pulled back and gazed at her with adoring brown eyes. "Sergeant Beckett called right after you left this mornin'. Just said I needed to come down to Headquarters for a meeting."

"A meeting." Frowning, Lilly toyed with the close-cropped hair at the nape of his neck. "She say what it's about?"

"Mmmm." His eyes slid closed. "No. Prob'ly just…somethin' I forgot to sign."

With the transfer. He hadn't said the words, but they hung heavy in the air anyway, and her heart gave a quiet pang. What had happened between them in the last twelve hours didn't change the fact that they weren't partners anymore. That he worked in a different building now. That his desk would still be empty.

"Hey." Scotty must've sensed the change in her mood, because his eyes were now open and seeking hers in earnest. "I may not be workin' with you anymore, but I'm _here_. I'm with you. We're together. Nothin's gonna change that." He grinned. "You're gonna see more than enough of me no matter what."

Lilly's lips curved. "Scotty...there's no such thing as enough of you."

With a quiet groan, Scotty claimed her mouth, and she plunged greedily back into the ocean of ecstasy that had been hers since that conversation last night on the rooftop. His hot mouth was familiar territory now; his firm lips, his questing tongue, those talented hands tugging at her elastic and freeing her hair to spill down over her shoulders.

On sudden impulse, she swooped over and pressed the emergency stop button. He stared at her for a couple seconds, breathless, and then closed the scant distance between them and pressed her against the wall of the elevator. His fingers tangled in her hair, his body melted into hers, and all the newly-sensitive places he'd awakened last night begged for his expert touch.

"How long do we have before someone thinks this thing's broken?" she asked as he scorched a trail of kisses down the side of her neck.

"Dunno. Couple minutes, I think."He pulled back to look at her, the desire in his eyes making it clear they were both thinking the same thing. And then his lips quirked, and he let out a quiet chuckle, one that echoed hers. There wasn't enough time. Not now. Not today. Real life had bled into the edges of their lusty bubble. He had a meeting. She had a new case to crack open.

With a self-conscious grin and one last relatively chaste kiss, he stepped away to straighten his tie, while she reluctantly pressed the button to resume the elevator's upward progress and hastily repaired the damage to her hair. She was just tightening the elastic when the elevator dinged, the door slid open…

…and Kat stood on the other side, her weight shifted to one hip, her arms folded across her chest. Her lips curved when she saw them; dark eyes bounced from Lilly to Scotty and back again.

"Mmmmhmm." One eyebrow arched knowingly, Kat stepped between them and into the elevator. She was still eyeing them, her smirk a mixture of smugness and genuine satisfaction, when the doors slid shut.

Lilly blew out a breath. "Well, I guess Miller knows now."

But Scotty didn't seem to be paying attention. He was still glancing over his shoulder at the elevator. "Y'know, I think I'm gonna put that elevator on the list."

"The list?"

"Y'know. The List. Of...places." The wiggle of his eyebrows cleared up any lingering doubts as to the meaning of his words.

"Oh." Heat crept into her cheeks. "I…didn't know you had a list."

He stepped as close to her as was professionally acceptable. "Oh, yeah. I got a list. A long one."

"Okay." Grinning wickedly, Lilly stretched up to whisper in his ear. "Make sure the interview room is on there."

Pleased at the shock she felt radiating from him, she turned around, drew in a quiet breath, and sauntered into the squad room.

* * *

><p>Scotty gulped a few breaths as he watched Lilly sashay into the office, her hastily-repaired ponytail swaying to and fro. Good God, the things that woman could do to him. Just a glimpse of one creamy, slightly freckled shoulder over the bedcovers that morning had been enough to light the fire. He hadn't wanted to wake her. Not really. But desire had proven too insistent to ignore. Thankfully she hadn't seemed to mind. Her eyes had fluttered open, glanced around in surprise for a moment, then darkened with want as she realized where she was, and why…<p>

…and then the bliss that followed had cut him off at the knees. Just like in his bed the night before. And again on the couch. And again on the kitchen table.

That was what had inspired the creation of The List, but he hadn't thought to include locations at Headquarters. Not until that wicked, wicked suggestion of hers, the one that had threatened the thin barrier of control he'd only barely managed to assemble after their interlude on the elevator.

Lilly Rush would be the death of him, he decided as he pulled in another deep, cooling breath and paced the small hallway for a moment. A lust-drenched, delicious death.

Maybe it was a good thing they weren't working together anymore.

He looked into the squad room to see Lilly standing in near Vera's desk, as she, Will, and Nicky took the lid off a box and started to pore through the contents. Scotty couldn't see the name or the year on the end of the box, couldn't even hazard a guess as to how old the case was, or the circumstances of the person's death. As he watched Lilly's slender ivory hands plunge into the box again and again, withdrawing file after file bursting with notes and interviews that would help their victim speak from the beyond, he was startled to feel a lump forming in his throat. God, he missed this.

But he had Lilly. That was the important part. That lovely creature with the blonde hair and the sapphire eyes…she belonged to him. She was his, and he was hers. Wholly and completely, they belonged to each other. Nothing could change that, no matter where he worked.

But _damn_, was he homesick.

Clearing the emotion from his throat, he turned, raked a hand through his hair, and strode down the hallway toward the conference room, where he was already a couple minutes late to the meeting. As the door creaked open, he was surprised to see Lieutenant Stillman sitting at the table, along with Sergeant Beckett and Deputy Commissioner Hudson.

Scotty's stomach knotted. What the hell had he done this time?

"Good to see you, Scotty," Stillman said from across the table.

"You, too, Boss." Scotty lowered himself into the nearest available chair, which he realized, too late, was right next to Sergeant Beckett. His actual boss. She was watching him, amusement flickering in her deep greenish-gold eyes.

"Sorry, Sarge," he said with a nervous chuckle. "Old habits."

Beckett replied with a warm smile. "No harm, no foul, Detective." Shifting slightly in her seat, she tossed a lock of chestnut hair over her shoulder. "Turns out that might not have been so wrong after all."

Scotty frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Across the table to Stillman's left, Deputy Commissioner Hudson cleared his throat. "Detective, I called this meeting in part to congratulate you on your work on the Newman case."

"Oh. Thanks. Just…doin' my job." Scotty's left leg started to bounce slightly under the table. If they really wanted to congratulate him, a letter of commendation would suffice. There had to be more to it than that. And what was Stillman doing here?

"Well, your job didn't go unnoticed." Hudson withdrew from a slender black notebook a piece of expensive-looking stationery. "I received this note from Gina Newman herself yesterday afternoon." Slipping a pair of reading glasses from the pocket of his decorated uniform, he unfolded the note and began to read aloud. "'To whom it may concern: I wanted to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to Detectives Valens and Mendoza, as well as the entire Philadelphia Police Department, for their tireless efforts in recovering and returning to all the stolen jewelry. This jewelry was worth far more to me than its monetary value, and I cannot even begin to describe the joy I felt this morning upon its safe return. Knowing the level of professionalism, expertise, and dedication represented in the Department, I can rest easy tonight knowing I, and all Philadelphians, are safe and secure on their watch.'"

Lowering the note, Hudson eyed Scotty over its edge and slipped off his reading glasses. "The letter also came with…a sizable donation. Very, very sizable."

Scotty flashed a nervous grin. "Well, that's good, right?"

"Yes. Very."

"So what's that got to do with me?"

"The, uh…the check came with a stipulation."

Scotty's fingers danced nervously on the tabletop. "What kind of stipulation?"

Hudson cleared his throat. "Mrs. Newman would like to see you return to Homicide, Detective Valens."

Blinking in surprise, Scotty glanced around the table at his old boss, his new boss, and his bosses' boss. Of course. It all made sense now.

"So what you're sayin' is…if I stay in Northwest and don't go back to Homicide, then you all don't get that fat check."

"I realize this is a lot to ask, given that you've just transferred," Hudson said uncomfortably, "but I'm sure you can appreciate the gravity of the situation. So we're asking you, Detective, to...take one for the team."

Scotty stared, disbelieving, as a grin spread slowly across his face. Never had irony tasted so sweet.

"Well, then." A bubble of laughter burst forth; he covered it quickly with a cough. "Looks like I don't got much of a choice."

Across the table, Stillman gave a nod and a small smile. "The cold case unit will, of course, welcome you back with open arms." The amused twinkle in his eyes suggested the total intentionality of his word choice. Did Boss _know? _

Wait. Of course he knew. He was Boss. He always knew.

Hudson nodded his approval, then turned dark, almost pleading eyes on Beckett. "Sergeant? Will this be all right with you?"

"Whatever's best for the Department." Beckett's lips curved slightly over the rim of her coffee mug. "I'm sure Mendoza can find someone else to pick on."

Hudson's eyes swept around the little group. "So do we have an agreement?"

Beckett and Stillman nodded, and Scotty smiled as wide as he dared. "Yes, sir. We have an agreement."

With a huge sigh of relief, the deputy commissioner rose from his seat and began shaking hands all around the table. "Thank you, Detective. The Department appreciates your willingness to be flexible."

"Well, like you said. Just takin' one for the team." That refrain had taken on a whole new meaning in the last few minutes. He was going back to his team. His family. His desk.

His partner.

He was going back home to Homicide. To Lilly.

And he couldn't wait to see the look on her face when he told her.

* * *

><p>With an impatient hand, Lilly brushed her bangs out of her eyes, then turned a page in the age-yellowed notes she was attempting to decipher. A thirty-year-old case was difficult enough, but the original detective's atrocious handwriting—and even worse syntax—made this job all the tougher. Seriously, what the hell? Was that a Q? A G? And this word here, the one that looked like 'plyebgushbw,' that had to have some meaning, but damned if she could—<p>

A box thumped on the desk.

Not her desk. Scotty's desk.

Panic prickled in her gut. No. No. She wasn't ready for a new—no. It _couldn't_ be.

Wait. It really couldn't be a new partner. Scotty had left due to budget cuts. For them to replace him now would defy all logic and reason, even by the Department's generous standards.

Heart pounding, Lilly slid cautious eyes over, and that was when she saw the pile of belongings being unloaded from the box.

A gym bag.

An extra shirt.

A set of keys on an Eagles keyring.

Her head snapped up, and there he was. Scotty. Absolutely _beaming _as he dug a baseball out of the box.

"Scotty, are you…" She hardly dared to speak the word, lest this prove to just be some wondrous dream.

"I'm back, Lil." She could tell from the shine in his eyes that he was just barely containing his urge to shout in triumph.

"Back for good?"

"Yeah." His grin widened. She hadn't thought that was possible. "Couldn't stay away."

Joy burst in her heart. True to form, her mind buzzed with questions, trying to put the pieces together. This had to have been what Scotty's mysterious morning meeting was about, and she was sure he'd tell her the details at some point. But right now, those details didn't matter. What mattered was that he was back, he was _here_, but not yet in her arms.

She needed to fix that.

She'd just started to rise from her desk when the gruff clearing of a throat stopped her in her tracks.

"Well, well," Vera said with a smirk as he strolled through the squad room, donut in hand. "If it ain't the prodigal son."

"Good to be back, Nicky." A mischievous gleam in his dark eyes, Scotty tossed the baseball to himself, drawing a scowl from Vera as he plopped down into his seat.

Jaw clenched with frustration, Lilly settled back into her chair. Whether Nick had already figured out what was going on or not, his presence meant she had to remain far more professional with Scotty right now than she wanted to.

"Meet me in Observation. Two minutes." Scotty's whisper caressed the curve of her left ear. Startled, she glanced up to see him quickly stashing the shirt and the gym bag in the bottom drawer, stuffing the rest of the contents of the box into the center drawer, and then sauntering away with the empty box, a decided bounce in his step.

Observation. Two minutes.

_Well, _then.

Heat creeping into her cheeks, an insistent smile tugging at her lips, she hastily lowered her gaze back to the desk. God help her if Vera saw her right now. She didn't dare glance in his direction.

When the two minutes were up, she rose coolly from the desk, file in hand, and headed for Observation. Mercifully, there was no smart-ass comment from Vera to chase her in.

The moment she entered the room, Scotty's mouth was on hers. Ecstatic. Celebratory. Hungry. The file fell to the floor as she wrapped her arms around him. Laughing, he broke the kiss, spun her in a circle, then lowered her, dizzy, to the ground, where he claimed her lips once more.

At length, he pulled away. "Better?" he asked, his eyes sparkling.

"Better." Lilly's cheeks were starting to cramp again, but the deep peace settling in her center made her barely even notice. Scotty was back. He was here. He'd come back for her. She knew now that her heart was safe in his keeping. He really wasn't going to leave her. Never again.

Three quick raps on the door popped her bubble of bliss. Mercifully, there was enough of a pause for Lilly to smooth her shirt and Scotty to straighten his tie before the door creaked open to reveal a grinning Will Jeffries. His eyes traveled from Lilly to Scotty to the files scattered on the floor, and his smile widened.

"Boss wants to talk to all of us," he said smoothly.

"Thanks, Will," she replied.

Her colleague's expression said everything his words hadn't as he turned to stroll back into the office, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Oh, and Scotty. Welcome back."

Grinning, Scotty smoothed his hair. "Yeah. Thanks."

The door clicked shut, and Lilly blew out a shaky breath. "Guess this'll take some...trial and error."

"Sounds like a fun challenge." Scotty leaned in to press a quick kiss to her cheek, then opened the door and motioned for her to go first, which she did, willing herself to keep the color out of her cheeks.

"You got the notes from Detective Herman?" Vera asked as she settled into her seat.

Notes? What notes?

_Oh._

Lilly's efforts to keep from blushing met with abject failure.

"These what you're lookin' for?" Scotty held out the notes to Vera, who looked between the two of them and smirked.

"That's exactly what I'm lookin' for. Thanks."

"Thanks," Lilly echoed, glancing appreciatively toward Scotty as he sat down at his desk.

"We all here?" Stillman spoke up behind her, and Lilly turned to see him standing just outside his office, a sheaf of papers in his hand.

"Comin', Boss." Miller hurried in from the kitchen and took her seat, stashing her cell phone in the pocket of her coat.

"Good." The boss straightened his glasses. "As many of you know, Detective Valens has rejoined us."

The squad erupted into cheers and applause, and Scotty took a mock half-bow.

Stillman looked extremely pleased. "As a reward for his hard work on the burglary at her house, Gina Newman has insisted—most emphatically—that he return to his rightful place in Homicide."

"I'll bet she has," Vera muttered, drawing a dark glare from Scotty.

Stillman smiled, seemingly oblivious to their repartee. "Welcome back, Scotty. You were missed."

Scotty grinned. "Thanks, Boss."

"Now, on a completely unrelated note…" Stillman eyed the squad over the rims of his glasses. "I've decided now is as good a time as any to remind you all of the department policy on interpersonal relationships."

Lilly's stomach plunged to the floor, and her cheeks flamed anew. She couldn't look at Scotty. Or her co-workers. Or…anything at all. She settled for the window, just to the left of the boss.

"Officially, relationships within a unit are frowned upon. But…" Stillman cleared his throat. "Unofficially, we're all adults here. Our personal lives should remain just that. Personal. I see no need to get involved, or to have the brass get involved, in anything that…may or may not be happening…or may or may not happen in the future…so long as you all don't let whatever happens…or doesn't happen…interfere with the job."

Lilly couldn't hide her smile as she looked toward her boss. The lieutenant appeared simultaneously proud and uncomfortable as he glanced at her, then at Scotty, and then, amusingly, at Miller and Vera, who were staunchly refusing to look up from their desks.

"You keep your personal business away from here, and I'll keep the brass out of your personal business. Do I make myself clear?" The boss was trying very hard to look stern, but he wasn't fooling a soul, and Lilly's heart warmed.

"Crystal," she heard Miller say behind her, then joined the chorus of agreement.

"Excellent." Stillman sounded relieved. "Now, where are we on the McIntyre case?"

Will was the first to speak, and Lilly glanced around the squad while he did so. Vera was smirking at Kat, who grinned back, her eyes sparkling with both affection and good-natured annoyance. Kat glanced her way, looked briefly startled, and then pointed, ever so slightly, from Lilly to Scotty and back again.

Lilly nodded, and Kat's smile melted from amused to proud.

Feeling another pair of eyes on her, she turned toward Scotty, who was indeed caressing her with his gaze. His eyes spoke both of everything he was going to do to her later, ideas that heated her blood and brought goose bumps to her arms, and everything he was going to do _with _her. Not just tonight. But tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. And on and on, as far as either of them could plan. The love in his eyes told her that, whatever lay ahead, he was going to be there for all of it.

Lilly looked back at him, returning his silent promise. Partners for six years at work, they were now partners in an additional sense. She was going to be there for him, too. No matter what.

She wouldn't miss it for the world.


	28. We Will Dance

**A/N: **Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the support and encouragement, and for sticking with this story over the last several months! It has been a joy to write it and share it with you all.

The song from which I drew the chapter title is the song Cheech and I danced to at our wedding. I figured it would be a fitting end to what has been an amazingly fun story. Thank you all, again, for being your awesome selves. I am so glad you've enjoyed this story.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

**We Will Dance**

_And I'll hold you close and I won't let go  
>Even when our steps grow weak and slow<br>Still I'll take your hand and hold you close to me  
>And we will dance<em>

"You look beautiful, Lil."

Scotty's words cut through the quiet strains of the music as they swayed in slow circles at the center of the Blue Ball dance floor, and Lilly beamed. She hadn't gone to quite as much trouble as she had last year, with that elaborate crimson ballgown. This year, she'd opted for something a little less fluffy and skirt-intensive, but still red. Scotty had always liked her in red.

"Thanks." She slid her fingers up the sleeves of his tux jacket and trailed them along the edge where stiff fabric met warm, soft skin. "And you look…"

Grinning, Scotty quirked a brow while she scanned her mental list of adjectives to try to come up with one that would do justice to the idea of Scotty Valens in a tuxedo. She hadn't quite been able to fully appreciate the sight at last year's Blue Ball and had been waiting twelve months to get another glimpse. She'd hoped to have a chance when Kat and Vera got married in July, but in keeping with the no-muss, no-fuss nature of their relationship, the two of them had tied the knot in a quickie lunchtime jaunt to the courthouse.

Over Scotty's shoulder, Lilly spied the happy newlyweds, a sober and radiant Kat clad in a form-fitting black dress and Vera looking surprisingly dapper in a rented tux she suspected Kat had picked out for him. Acknowledging them with a cheerful wiggle of her fingers, Lilly then turned her attention back to Scotty and the way the sharp, clean lines of his tux accentuated his lean, sculpted form.

"Edible," she finally decided, whispering the word into Scotty's left ear and relishing the slight shudder she got in response.

Scotty pulled her close enough that she could feel the effect she was having on him. "Good thing I booked us a room here tonight, then."

Lilly's eyes widened. "You got us a room? Here? Scotty, that's…" She trailed off, shaking her head in amazement. She had no idea how much a room in this swanky hotel would cost, but she knew it was probably beyond anything either of them could sensibly afford.

"Expensive?" His lips curved in a knowing grin. "C'mon. We only get all dolled up once a year. Figure…go big or go home, right?"

"Right." There was something there, some current running just beneath the surface of the man she knew so well, but she couldn't quite place it. Nor did she have time to dwell on it, because a familiar silver-haired figure had just laid a weathered hand on Scotty's shoulder, blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

"Pardon the interruption, Detective Valens. Detective Rush," Rodgers said with exaggerated formality as Lilly and Scotty created some space. "I hadn't had a chance to say hello to either of you yet this evening."

Lilly and Scotty both shook the hand of the renowned author, who had become a familiar presence in the squad room thanks to the research required for his new novel. Though Lilly wasn't privy to many details, she knew the book focused on a team of detectives dedicated to closing old murders. The lead detective, Lizzie Ice, was none other than the daughter of Kathryn Ice, the heroine who had first inspired Lilly all those years ago. Lilly suspected there was more of herself in Lizzie Ice than she might have liked, but Rodgers had staunchly refused to let her read any of his drafts, saying only that he knew she'd love the finished product.

"Rick. Good to see you." This from Deputy Commissioner Hudson, who paused in his latest sweep of the room to pump Rodgers' hand enthusiastically. Lilly had to smile. In addition to becoming a frequent visitor to Headquarters, Rick Rodgers had also become quite a generous donor. The Department's budget woes had eased considerably since this time last year.

"Always a pleasure." Rodgers returned the handshake, then turned back toward Scotty. "Detective. May I borrow your partner for a moment?"

"Not at all. I'll just go grab a drink." Scotty brushed a kiss to Lilly's cheek, then headed off toward the bar, while Rodgers offered Lilly his arm and led her toward the doors to the balcony.

"I must say, my dear Detective Rush, that you look positively ravishing this evening."

"Thank you. And you look quite dashing yourself." She played along the overly formal ruse as he pushed open the door and escorted her out into the unseasonably mild November air. As Lilly took in the view from the top floor, she couldn't help but think about the last time she looked out on the lights and the traffic from this spot. Blinking back tears, straining to see the taillights of a departing Maserati, shivering in the evening's chill…

…and then Scotty came out onto the balcony, offered her his jacket, and changed her world forever.

"I wanted to give you this." A grin spreading across Rodgers' face, he presented her with a brown paper bag with handles, from which he produced a wrapped package festooned with a dazzling abundance of curling ribbon.

"Lexie went a little crazy with the ribbon," he explained, and Lilly grinned at the thought of the eager red-haired assistant as she took the bag from him.

"Should I open it now?"

"Please do."

With all the eagerness of a child on Christmas morning, Lilly tore off the paper to reveal a thick hardcover book. Dark blue, with silver embossed letters on the cover, and the silhouette of a female detective in the background.

_Rick Rodgers  
>Cold As Ice<em>

Lilly gasped. "It's out? I thought it wasn't being released until January."

"Publisher bumped up the release date," a beaming Rodgers explained. "Pre-release buzz was through the roof; they decided they wanted the book out in time for Christmas. It hits stores two weeks from Tuesday, but I got my author copies in the mail earlier this week. Thought tonight might be the perfect opportunity to give you yours."

"Oh, _thank you." _An uncharacteristic squeal escaped her lips as she cracked open the cover and inhaled that hot-off-the-presses book smell. "It's here. I can't believe it's here. Oh, Rick, I cannot _wait _to read this."

"I can't remember the last time I had so much fun writing a damn book," Rodgers said. "The research used to drive me crazy, but with you and your squad it's an absolute joy. You've all become like family."

Tears stung Lilly's eyes as she reached forward and enveloped the aged author into a warm embrace. "That's exactly what they are. And you, too."

"Good thing the publishers want to make this a series, then," Rodgers said with a decidedly impish grin as they pulled apart.

"A series?"

"Signed a five-book contract yesterday."

Lilly's eyes widened. "Five books? That's fantastic."

"Oh, there you are, Rick." A clear, strident female voice cut through the mild night air, and Lilly looked up to see a statuesque brunette, resplendent in a shimmery gold floor-length gown. It took her a moment to place the woman, and when she did, her jaw dropped.

"Sergeant Beckett. Almost didn't recognize you."

Beckett smiled warmly as she sidled up next to Rodgers. "Yeah, I've been getting that a lot tonight."

"Kate," Rodgers breathed, devouring her with his eyes. "My God. You are a vision."

"You think so?" Beckett's green-gold eyes started to sparkle, and Lilly thought she could see just a tiny bit of color creeping into the sergeant's cheeks.

Well. It didn't take a detective to figure out what was going on here, though Lilly was stunned at how deep the feelings apparently ran. Rodgers had been with the squad when they worked with Beckett on an old murder in her precinct. Lilly wasn't aware they'd kept in touch, but based on the kiss Rodgers was pressing to the back of Beckett's hand, it appeared they had done exactly that, and then some.

"Detective Rush, if you'll excuse me." Rodgers glanced back at her, his eyes twinkling once again.

"Of course." Lilly smiled back at him. "Thanks for the book."

"It's the least I could do. You enjoy the rest of your evening."

"I will," Lilly called after him. "You, too."

"Nice seeing you, Detective Rush. Say hi to Valens for me," Beckett said over her shoulder by way of farewell, and then the pair disappeared back into the brilliantly-lit ballroom.

Lilly chuckled to herself at the romance that was very obviously blooming. She wouldn't necessarily have put Beckett and Rodgers together, especially given their age difference, but they both seemed happy. And Rick Rodgers, after all the years he'd pined for Ellie…he deserved happy.

With a contented sigh, Lilly cracked open the book, savoring the crisp paper between her fingers and the white of the page under the dim lights of the balcony.

Her heart warmed when she read the dedication.

_To the extraordinary Detective Lilly Rush and the rest of the real cold case unit of the Philadelphia Police Department: Detectives Will Jeffries, Kat Miller, Scotty Valens, Nick Vera, and their long-suffering boss, Lieutenant John Stillman, with my deepest thanks and devotion._

She was just starting to turn the first page when she sensed an eerie, yet oddly familiar presence. Glancing up, she saw Ellie King standing there, a copy of the same book in her hand, her eyes drinking in each word on the page. After a moment, Ellie looked up and peered at Lilly over the edge of the novel, breaking into a sweet, dimple- framed smile. The apparition lasted but a moment, then faded into the night, and Lilly breathed the contented sigh that came with knowing a long-departed soul had finally found its peace.

* * *

><p>The small square napkin arrived, followed immediately thereafter by the glass of scotch Scotty had requested. He downed half of it, his fingertips hopping up and down on the surface of the bar. This time last year, he was sitting in this exact spot, flirting with Frankie Rafferty so he could keep his mind off Lilly and Saccardo. This year, Saccardo was nowhere to be seen—back undercover, Scotty assumed—but Frankie was here, getting up close and personal with a female officer Scotty vaguely remembered from his patrol days. Huh. Looked like Rafferty batted for both teams. Didn't see that coming.<p>

It seemed Gina Newman had found a new target as well. Though she had of course been thrilled to see Scotty, Lilly's presence seemed to have motivated her to direct most of her flirting elsewhere. In fact, there she was now, on the other side of the room, sinking her claws into some new guy who'd just transferred into Homicide from NYPD. Amare? Amaro? Couldn't remember the guy's name, but it looked like Gina sure would.

A hand on Scotty's shoulder made his heart leap into his throat. Rick Rodgers stood to his left, mirth shimmering in the shorter man's blue eyes. "It's go time, Detective."

"You give it to her?"

"Yep." Rodgers winked. "She's all yours."

"Let's hope so," Scotty muttered, mostly to himself, as Rodgers turned and headed to the dance floor with…was that Sergeant Beckett? Scotty took a moment to process what he was seeing, then polished off the rest of his scotch in a single scorching gulp, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door to the balcony.

The cool air kissing his face was a welcome relief after that overly stuffy ballroom, and it took the edge off the adrenaline sluicing through his body. And there was Lilly, leaning against the railing, just as she'd been last year. A gift bag sat at her feet, out of which peeked a wad of crumpled wrapping paper. Her eyes caressed the back cover of the book she held in her hands.

The all-important book.

His heart hammering, Scotty took as deep a breath as he could muster and started toward her. She turned around at the sound of his footsteps, and the dazzling smile with which she rewarded him stole what little air he had left.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey." His mouth felt stuffed with cotton. Sidling up next to her, he slid his arm around her slender waist. "Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?"

Lilly's grin widened as she leaned her head on his shoulder. "Couple times, I think."

He feathered a kiss against her hair. "Then I ain't said it enough."

"Mmm. I don't think I've spent enough time telling you how good you look tonight, either." Turning toward him, she claimed his lips. He gave in to the insistent desire for a moment, then stepped back. His fingertips grazed her shoulders, then slipped down her arms to the book she still held in her hands.

"What's that?" he asked.

She looked blank for a moment, then glanced down, almost as if she'd forgotten the book entirely. "Oh. Rick's publisher bumped up the release date, so he got his author copies early." Beaming, she handed Scotty the book. "Hope we like this one, 'cause he just signed a deal for five more."

"Five more, huh?" Scotty flipped absently through the pages, just to make sure everything was as it should be. "So I guess that means he's still gonna be hangin' around the office all the time." This was a welcome development. During the course of his research, Rick Rodgers had practically become one of the squad.

"Guess so," she replied. "But I think he'll probably be spending just as much time over in Northwest."

Grinning, Scotty handed the book back. "What makes you say that?"

Mischief sparkled in Lilly's eyes. "I think he's sweet on your old sergeant."

"Who? Beckett?"

"Looks like she's just as sweet on him, too."

Scotty nodded his approval. "Wow. Go, Rick."

"Excuse me?"

"What? Beckett's hot."

Lilly arched a brow.

"Well, okay, she's not _you _hot. But she is hot."

"Mm-hm."Lilly rolled her eyes, and Scotty took another deep breath and tried to clear the nerves from his throat.

"So…Rodgers sign the book?"

"Y'know, I didn't think to look." Opening the book, she turned a couple pages, then smiled. "Yeah, here it is. 'To Lilly: Inspiration has come full circle. Once again, all my gratitude. Yours, Rick Rodgers. P. S. I'm nowhere near the detective you are, but I suspect chapter fourteen will be your favorite.'" She closed the book, smiling fondly. "That was really sweet of him."

Scotty arched a brow. "You ain't gonna check out chapter fourteen? See what he's talkin' about?"

Lilly looked at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted an extra head. "No."

"C'mon. You're not even a little bit curious?"

"_No._" Lilly hugged the book to her chest. "This is Rick Rodgers's first new book in seven years. I want to read it slowly. Beginning to end. I want to savor each and every word. No skipping around."

Scotty had to chuckle. "You mean you wanna see if you can crack the case before Lizzie Ice does."

A sheepish grin curved Lilly's lips. "Maybe."

"You get that she's you, right?"

"She's a fictionalized version of me."

"You're still just competin' with yourself."

"Yeah. So what?" Lilly began to study him with narrow-eyed suspicion. "Wait, do you know something?"

Scotty wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question. "Well, there's somethin' in chapter fourteen that I think you'll—"

"No no no, don't tell me. I don't even want a hint."

"But if you'd just—"

"Nope."

"But, Lil, I—"

"I _mean_ it, Scotty," she snapped, looking slightly hurt. "_No spoilers."_

Scotty stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. This was the one thing he didn't think about. Somehow, in all his scheming, it hadn't occurred to him that Lilly might not immediately skip to the good part of the book. And because he had overlooked that one critical detail, the plan that had seemed so brilliant on Thursday was now unraveling faster than a twenty-year-old T-shirt.

"Look," he said, trying like hell to keep his frustration out of his voice. "Just…flip to chapter fourteen, all right?"

Lilly stared at him. "Flip?"

"Flip." He pantomimed the motion.

"Why?"

"Dammit, Lil." The words exploded from his lips, and he pulled in a breath to calm himself. "Just do it. Please. For me. You'll—you'll understand why. "

Frowning, Lilly tilted her head to the side and studied him. "Are you okay, Scotty?"

No. He wasn't okay. His skin was breaking out in a cold sweat. His heart was pounding so fast he wondered if he might need an ER visit before this was all over. His mouth tasted like scotch and terror. And she, the best detective he'd ever known, the person who knew him better than almost anyone, was just now noticing something was off with him? If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, he'd have laughed.

For a moment, he contemplated just spilling the whole thing, but decided instead to drop back and heave one last Hail Mary pass. "Look, Lil. Just…flip the pages. You don't have to look at the words. It—it's got nothin' to do with the story. It's just…there's somethin' in there you need to see."

"Okay…" Her brow still creased in an adorably puzzled frown, Lilly slowly opened the book and flipped the pages. Scotty was practically melting with adrenaline as she got closer and closer to the fateful chapter…

…and then she stopped. Slammed the book shut. Took a few rapid, shallow breaths. Looked up at him. Then looked back down at the book. Opened it. Flipped the pages again, frantic this time. Turned too far. Had to turn back. Then she slowed. Stopped. Stared. Her hands started to shake.

"Scotty…"

God. She was killing him. _Killing _him. He hadn't been a fraction this terrified with Elisa. He couldn't have been. Because if he had, he would've signed an oath, in his own blood if necessary, to never, ever do this to himself again.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she reached down into the page and withdrew the glittering diamond ring he'd purchased two weeks back and wedged deep into the pages of Rick Rodgers's book. It had been Scotty's idea to pop the question at the Blue Ball, out on the balcony, almost a year to the day since everything had started.

It had been Rodgers' idea to hide the ring in the book.

"Scotty?" She held up the ring in her trembling fingers. "Is this…?"

He swallowed hard. "Yeah, Lil. It is."

She made a noise that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a sob and clapped her hand to her mouth. Her other hand, the one that was still holding the book, shook so violently that Scotty took pity on her and slid the novel from her tenuous grasp, laying it to the side as he dropped to one knee in front of her and clasped her newly-free hand in his.

"Lil." The name stuck in his throat. He had to clear it and start over. "Lil…we've been partners for a long time. And the last year, we've been…well, _partners. _And I told you when we got together that I'd do whatever it took to prove that I was gonna be there for you, no matter what. And—and if I've done that okay…if you believe me…if you know, deep in your heart how much I love you, and how I'd—I'd walk through fire for you…then…will you marry me?"

Tears filled her eyes. She nodded her head several times before she could get the word out. "Yes." It was muffled by the hand still clasped over her mouth, but it was clearly, definitely, a yes. Her hand still shaking, she held the ring out to him.

He slid it onto her finger, and kneeling there, seeing the way the ring nestled around her finger as though it had always been there, watching the light that bled out from the ballroom bounce off the diamond in a dazzling array of color, finally he could breathe.

Except he couldn't, because she'd helped him stand up and had engulfed him in an impassioned kiss. His cheeks felt wet, though he couldn't tell whether it was from her tears or his.

Finally, she ended the kiss and leaned her forehead against his, her glistening lashes glued together and a tender smile curving her lips. "I love you, Scotty."

"Lil." He pulled her close. "I love you, too. So goddamn much."

Another shy kiss, and then she pulled back and breathed a happy sigh. "We're getting married."

He grinned. "We are." It'd probably take a couple days to fully wrap his head around it.

"Think we should tell everyone?"

Scotty shrugged. "Probably."

Grinning wickedly, Lilly took him by the hand and started to lead him toward the entrance to the back stairwell of the hotel. "Let's tell them tomorrow."

"Oh?" He arched a brow.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder. "I'm starting to get a nasty bobby pin headache."

All-too familiar desire ignited. "Are you?"

"Oh, yeah. The worst." The gleam in her eyes told him she wasn't in any pain. Not that kind, anyway.

"You…want me to help you with that when we get to our room?" He felt his own grin turn slightly mischievous.

"If you would."

There wasn't anything in the world he'd like better.


End file.

Cold Case, Crime, Romance