Unfinished Business    part 2 B

Livvy

Headers in Part 1

Rating: R

~~~~~

Standing under the steady stream of hot water, Lindsay is starting to feel human again; the flying funk is washing off of her as the water eases muscles taut with tension. She knows that she can't prolong the conversation, that Bobby wants to have, forever so she is taking this precious opportunity for solitude to regroup. Now knowing what it is that is on his mind and, therefore, what needs to be done, she feels prepared and eager to face it.

She smiles as she thinks about the insanity that is Bobby - over a month of silence on a subject and then he flies her over two thousand miles to apologize? Only to Bobby would that make sense. As exasperating as he is, she loves him for his quirks. Thankfully, he loves her for hers, too, because neither is the poster child for rationality. She recalls it had taken him six weeks to approach her after they'd kissed so, really, she shouldn't be surprised that it has taken that long to broach the subject of a fight too. From now on, she plans to pencil into her diary an upcoming discussion six weeks after every major event; at least, that way, next time a conversation seems to appear out of the blue, she'll actually be prepared for it.

Lindsay is rinsing the shampoo out of her hair when she feels a rush of cool air, she suspects that the shower door has been opened and she now has an audience. Waiting to see what he has planned, she continues on as if unaware of his intrusion. She's pleasantly surprised when she feels his body press against her back and hums a welcome, remembering well her earlier desire to hold him naked in her arms.

One of his arms encircles her waist while the other slides up her body until a finger presses against her lips. "Shhh it's only me," he whispers against her ear, and before she can comment about who else does he think that she would think he was, he continues with, "I slipped away, no one saw me but we'll have to be quiet or they'll know."

Titling her head to give his lips better access to that spot on her neck that she knows they're heading towards, Lindsay wonders what the hell he is talking about. "Slipped away from where?" she asks, moving out of the water's stream, her hands dropping from her hair to reach back and rest on his thighs, drawing him even closer.

"The others are still chasing down names from that chat room, I should be helping, but, God, Lindsay, I spent two days without you, we've barely spoken since I arrived and I can't wait a moment more to be alone with you. I want you so much that it's killing me."

Lindsay almost laughs when she realizes what Bobby is doing, but the actions of his hands and mouth take her breath away, making laughter impossible. When it was said, out on the balcony, that they'd make new memories while they were here, she didn't know that he'd taken that to mean going back in time to do so. She turns in his arms to tell him that this ruse is unnecessary, only to find her mouth too busy to talk. He invades her space as they kiss, she finds herself unwittingly stepping backwards, and as the cold tiles of the wall brush against her back, she arches into Bobby's encroaching body, eliciting a moan from both of them. Oh, God, she feels ready to explode any minute and from the feel of things, Bobby won't be too far behind. She can't help it, as their lips part, she moans again from the sheer pleasure of warring sensations, hot and cold, hard and soft.

"Shhhh," Bobby whispers; his finger plays across her lips before his mouth again takes over.

Lindsay smiles as he kisses her. 'Ah to hell with ending the charade,' she thinks, 'some things just aren't worth arguing about.' If he wants to play she'll happily play too. To be honest, with him warm and wet and pressed against her, his mouth showing her the meaning of heaven, his body promising her extreme rapture, she'd... what were we talking about again? Oh, yeah, she'd agree to anything

Bobby's hands slide down her body and she knows that any second now he'll pick her up, knows that she'll be wrapped around him and there'll be no stopping this, not that she wants to stop it, it's just, why not have some fun with it first? It's time she messes with his mind a little; she hates rushing through perfect moments, so plans to buy some time to adore this one, to adore him, because she wants this perfect moment in time to never end. Lindsay feels so close to him now, so sure of who they are and wants to play with him for a while, wants to bask in this joy that is washing over her. "Bobby?" she says and wonders whose smoky voice she just heard, surely it wasn't hers?

"Hmm?" Bobby hums as his hands hook the backs of her thighs.

"Bobby, can you do something for me?" she quickly asks, while she still has the resolve to do so. God, it is tempting to quit the game before it even gets started, but, no, her hands have longed to roam over him, if she plays this right that is something she will get to do.

"Oh, yeah... anything... your wish is my command," Bobby deeply purrs.

"Good," she hums, "Could you... um... pass the conditioner, please?" Bobby's head snaps up and his eyes bore into hers. Raising an eyebrow, Lindsay calmly says, "Bobby, they'll know what we're really doing in here if I don't finish washing my hair."

Delighted that she is playing along Bobby smiles at her. He realizes it is probably a good idea that they slow things down a little, he'd ordered room service to be delivered in an hour, at the rate that they were going, chances had been good that they'd be done in five and spend the next fifty-five minutes waiting for dinner. His hands move from her legs up to her shoulders, "Turn around," he instructs and she does.

Lindsay listens as he fiddles with the bottle, taking an eternity to get back to her; her body is crying out for attention and she begins to turn to see what has created the delay.

"Uh, uh, uh," he says, turning her back around; thankfully his fingers begin working the conditioner through her hair, or she may have had to reprimand him on his tardiness.

"You're so impatient," he teases and she doesn't deem that comment worth a reply, not when his fingers are doing their magic .

'Oh, this is good,' she thinks and closes her eyes so that she can better appreciate the sensations. Lindsay feels the warmth of the water, the tickle of Bobby's breath and the press of his body brushing against her, the sensual pull and push of his fingers manipulating her skull and her mind and body surrenders to it. She feels surrounded by him, with her eyes closed, the steady strum of the water feels like a heartbeat; she feels engulfed by him, inside of him, like they are truly one. Her knees become weak as the lure of the sensations hit her all at once, she feels like any minute now she will collapse, but is unconcerned by the prospect, knowing that he'll catch her if she does; she'd merely sink into him and all would be wonderful. She hears his voice, his whispered devotions and answers them with her own. Her hands again reach behind her in search of his skin and, finding it, rest contentedly there. Holding, not with pressure, but with love.

Lindsay smiles when one of his hands leaves her hair and travels slowly down her body. Despite the heat of the water she feels goose bumps arise as his hand stops on her breast - his fingers cupping, squeezing, brushing, teasing, oh, so, good. She loves his uncontrolled desire for her.

"I don't have hair there, Bobby," she whispers.

In response to her sultry voice, Bobby's hand tightens its grip on her nipple and Lindsay unwittingly releases a loud seductively-agonized moan that wipes his retort from his mind. Bobby spins her around, closing his mouth over hers and feasting greedily on her startled gasp. When they pull apart, he growls, "Do I have to silence you?"

"If that's your method, yes!" Lindsay replies, her hands joining behind his neck and leading him back down. How dare he take his mouth off of her?

Smiling, Bobby quickly kisses her again, then, ignoring the disappointed mewl she releases when he moves out of her reach, he instructs her to turn and rinse.

"Oh, no, Bobby, it needs to stay in for five minutes," Lindsay replies solemnly.

Her guileless eyes bewitch him; has he ever loved her more? He tries to walk them towards the spray but she'll have none of it. This time Bobby's the one to groan and Lindsay smiles, obviously delighted by his desperate look. "You're killing me here, you know that?" he growls.

"Good thing we have such a crack defense team in the other room then or I could be in trouble," she teases. Her hands move from his neck and slide over his body, her eyes devilishly alerting him of her plan.

"Oh, you're in trouble all right," Bobby warns; wanting to regain the upper hand, he reaches for her but Lindsay alludes him easily as his actions are hampered by frenetic lust. "Did I mention that we have to hurry before they notice that I'm gone," he grumbles.

"Quit whining and I'll make the wait worthwhile," Lindsay promises as she reaches for the soap and lathers up her hands. Soap in one hand and with the other working in counterpoint, she starts at his abdomen, watches his eyes close as he wars with frustration and exhilaration; she's so close to where he wants her but vexingly not there. "Soon," she promises and works her hands up to his chest, building a substantial amount of foam in the hair there, she kisses his gleaming collarbone and whispers, "Now here's a chest worth lathering."

His fingers raise to her breasts, holding them as his thumbs brush over her nipples, opening his eyes, he grins, "I'd rather lather these."

Lindsay leans into his hands, for no other reason than she needed to reach his shoulders or so she tries to convey. Her eyes are glued to his, watching for the moment when he thinks that he's got her. As he leans forward to touch his lips to hers, she ducks down and away, his body is pliant in confusion as he stumbles forward. Before he's even finished righting himself, she sets about working on his back. She could spend hours doing just this but tonight its about him and she moves on.

Her hands soap each arm, her body sliding against his as she does, he feels what he wants and wants what he can feel. She's driving him insane. When her hands brush the inside of his thighs, Bobby finds himself reaching for the wall for support.

"How you doing up there?" Lindsay asks as she slowly runs her hand down his leg, toward his knee.

"Like you need to ask," he growls.

Lindsay smiles as she repeats the motion on his other leg and laughs to herself at the noises that he is making; she's not allowed to make a sound but he can moan and grunt all he likes. She wonders if he has any idea he's even doing so. She kneels as her hands work their way over his calves, she rests her head on the back of his thigh and feels the trembling of his muscles, knows that she's pushing him to the ends of his limits and loves that she can and that he lets her. She gives a little lick to the tender skin behind his knee and a nip to the curve of his ass and hopes that he didn't crack his skull when his head hit the wall; she still has plans for him and they don't involve him being concussed. Thinking that it's best to end this before he does do himself damage, she works her way back up his legs, then standing, instructs him to turn and rinse. Bobby obediently steps under the spray, arousal making him surprisingly complying. Unwilling to end her caress and lose contact with him now, Lindsay helps the water clear his skin, running her hands over him, delighting in all that she feels, the silky sleekness of him; he is a joy to touch.

Grasping her wrist, Bobby pulls her against his body, saying, "Your turn." His fingers run through her hair with far less control than he'd used before, her conditioner is barely washed away before his mouth descends on hers. "Mmm, soapy, yum," he chuckles when their mouths part.

"That's what you get for being impatient," Lindsay laughs.

Bobby steps forward, backing Lindsay against the wall. His hands take as thorough an inventory of her body as hers had done of his. Oh... God... such sweet torture, how did he stand it? Lindsay's ready to promise him anything if he'd just stop touching her and start touching her, when his lips run softly over her face and he says, "I'm sorry about what I said on the balcony yesterday."

"Bobby?" she sighs, not wanting to discuss this now. It feels so good where they are, why go back again? She just wants to feel now, to feel these wonderful sensations that he's causing in her, she doesn't want to think, or talk, just to feel.

Bobby continues talking, nonetheless, his saving grace is the fact that his lips travel over her as he does, "I've missed you so much, we've been separated before but... never a whole continent apart. Linds, you've always been a phone call away. I've never felt lonely knowing that... but, this time, with no hope of seeing you, or you being there, home seemed empty... I thought about you the whole flight over... how it would feel to hold you again... how all I wanted was you in my arms..."

Lindsay guides his face up and their eyes meet, seconds later they are furiously kissing, their tongues promising that all they still want is each other, that all they've ever wanted was each other.

Bobby soon pulls away and rests his forehead against hers as his ability to breathe slowly returns; he shakes his head in reply to her whispered entreaty that they leave the past in the past. Rising to look at her, he quietly says, "At the airport, as I was walking towards you I could barely contain my excitement, there were so many things I wanted to say, to do... but... but then... you were so excited about the case, Lindsay, that you barely looked at me... all you talked about was work, work, work and... it hurt. I'd been hoping... hoping for... it wasn't the reunion that I'd expected and..." he sighs heavily before saying, "You know me, Linds, generous to a fault, if I'm hurting I like to share it. I'd hoped that you'd missed me as much as I missed you..." he shakes his head, closing his eyes, abashed, "I know that it had only been two days... but I'd missed you... I'd wanted you to have missed me too..." He opens his eyes again, needing to see her response.

"You... you thought that I hadn't missed you?" Lindsay asks, stunned.

Bobby's amused by the incredulity on her face, he shrugs and says, "Crazy, huh?"

"I'll say, you big dope!" Lindsay raises her hands to his face and stares at him, her head begins to shake with disbelief, "I missed you so much, Bobby... I was waiting to get you alone to show you just how much. I wanted it to be just you and me without the audience... and the reason that I was so excited about the case was because I was excited to be sharing it with you... I love working ~with~ you... I always have and I was caught up in the rush that I get when we do big cases together. Bobby, I was so happy to have you there to share it with me, I'd jumped at the chance to do the case because I wanted ~us~ to do it, I love the exhilaration I get when we work together... I wanted to do it with you..."

Bobby grins, he holds her a little closer and waggles his eyebrows, saying, "I want to do it with you."

"You know what I meant," she sighs; he starts these conversations then at the first opportunity leaps at the chance to back out.

"I do," he promises, with his face now contrite, he lowers his mouth to hers and they kiss - a long, deep, wet kiss. The first kiss of many, until all thoughts of discussing their regrets dissolves and a more primal form of communication is entered into.

Having driven each other to the point of distraction with hands and mouths, Bobby lifts Lindsay, sliding her up the wall. Her eyes close in sweet anticipation, her arms curling around his neck as, in preparation for their joining, her legs move to wrap around his hips. Before they can do so, though, Bobby shudders, hisses and spins her towards the door as he screeches, "Aaaargh, cold!"

Lindsay laughs as her feet hit the ground. Watching his desperate dive for the taps, she steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around herself and has one ready for him when he follows her out.

"It's all right for you to laugh, it wasn't your back," he miserably pouts.

"Come here, baby, let me warm you up," she purrs, holding up the towel invitingly, "We can't let the cold take effect." She grins as her eyes peruse the proof that the cold wasn't anywhere near as bad as his shriek had suggested it was, he can be such a drama-queen at times.

With a grin, Bobby saunters over to her. He allows her to dry him for little more than ten seconds before he becomes eager to pick up where they had left off. Pulling her close, he kisses her bare shoulder then trails his lips up her neck and towards her ear, where he whispers, "Now, ~baby,~ where were we?"

"A little past there," Lindsay giggles and begins to back out of the room - her eager, lapping puppy following close behind. When her knees hit the mattress she stops, but Bobby barrels into her, sending them both sprawling onto the bed and making Lindsay laugh loudly.

"Shhhh, they'll hear you," Bobby says, trying to remove the towel covering her without having to break the delicious contact of their bodies.

"Bobby, no!" Lindsay says, stilling his hands.

He braces himself on his elbows and looks at her in surprise and confusion. Caressing his cheek, her thumb soothes away his concern, seeing love in her eyes he smiles and shakes his head, his actions asking, what is wrong.

"Bobby, I want to make love to you," she tells him, but before he can lower himself back to her, she adds, "But I want to make love to you now... tonight, not then." When he nods his understanding, she smiles and asks, "Bobby, will you please make love with me?"

His face becomes thoughtful as he gives an award winning performance of having to give careful consideration to her request. Rolling her eyes at him, Lindsay drapes her legs around his hips, lays her arms on the mattress above her head, and drawls, "I'll just wait here while you decide." Her lower body undulates a little against him and when he looks at her questioningly, she coyly says, "Oh, I'm sorry, did that disturb you? I'm just trying to get comfortable."

"I can help with that," he laughs, rolling them over so that he is on his back with her draped over him. As his hardness comes in contact with her heat they both sigh with pleasure. "Better?" Bobby asks.

Lindsay nods and watches him, waiting, expectantly. Her eyes asking, what is it you'd like?

He tugs at her towel again, saying, "Now, lets get this ugly thing out of the way."

Lindsay raises on her hands and knees to give him better leverage, with her hands resting on the mattress either side of his head, she leans in and places tender kisses along his jaw.

"That's a good start," Bobby grins at her as he throws her towel away and reaches for her body.

"There's more where that came from," she promises and, to his delight, proceeds to show him exactly how much more.

All thoughts of past disappointments are forgotten, as lover's bodies take over, making the here and now all encompassing. Once again, they are best friends, driving towards the same goal, with all they need of this world in hand. Striving for pleasure, they push one another harder and harder. Knowing, so well, each other's limits, they read their expressions, hear unspoken pleas and answer with their bodies rhythms, until each need is gratified. They cajole and tease, thrust and parry, again and again, over and over, extending the anticipation, the enjoyment, the passion, the union, until their bodies ache with unfulfilled delight. Relenting to the inevitable, they allow their bodies the free reign to seek sweet oblivion. Arching against one another, the dance stops as voices take hold, bellowing their love, then resumes until bodies become drained and lay languid, humid and exhausted.

Heaving unglamorously, Lindsay remains sprawled over Bobby's equally bedraggled body. With lactic acid still burning a path through her muscles, her overtaxed limbs hang loosely from her body. Her mind, itself barely operating, waits for her body to come down from its high. With her ear against Bobby's chest, his rapid and booming heartbeat pounds in accompaniment to her own. Their synchrony continues even when bodies are too sated to play. Having merely collapsed against him, when the ferocity of release became more than she could contain, she feels him inside her still. Relishing the sensation, she tries to sink as deeply into him, tries to become a part of him. His heartbeat lures her and she wants to open him up and climb right in, wants to become one with him more completely than even this passionate act of ecstasy can offer. If she become him, surely then, she can keep him from harm.

There are times when her release brings forth emotions that she struggles to comprehend. There are times when the absolute perfection of the moment overwhelms her and she bursts into unexplainable tears. Times when laughter bubbles out irrepressibly, sending them careening along a wave of euphoria, and times, like now, when a foreboding apprehension slides stealthily through her, making her skin crawl and her body grip him tight, desperate to keep him safe, keep him hers, and smother him with love until her anxiety fades.

Lindsay hears a deep inhale followed by a hoarse groan and smiles as she feels his body skittering back to life. With her tight grasp, she rides out the waves that sweep through his awakening body, then relaxes again, when his lips travel over the apex of her head, for as far as he can reach without actually having to move. She feels his groggy hands fumble before finding their way to her skin. Momentarily they rest on the curve of her back, before, parting company, one travels up her body while the other glides along the back of her thigh. She feels his heavy hand sweep the damp hair from her face, before collecting the wet strands and sliding his fingers through.

When his progress is halted by the presence of a knot, Lindsay huffs, "It's a lost cause now I'm afraid."

Bobby hums an agreement, still attempting with unwieldy fingers to find his way through. When he gives up, and his hand moves back to stroke over her face, Lindsay lifts her head; looking at his droopy-eyed gaze and flushed, sated face, she smiles and says, "See this is why shower sex is a rotten idea."

Bobby looks at the tousled strands springing wildly from her head and slurs, "S'okay, like you with bed-head."

"You would!" Lindsay grumbles, grinning because he doesn't look too bad with bed-head either; in fact, with whiskered skin, messed hair, a loved-within-an-inch-of-my-life grin and a large unencumbered expanse of sweat slicked skin.... Oh, yeah, he's looking pretty impressive right now, too.

Not having anything further to add to the conversation, Bobby slides his hand back into Lindsay's tangled tresses and guides her mouth to his. After a number of long lissome kisses, Bobby feels his lungs burning through lack of oxygen. Not having fully recovered from his earlier exertions, having born the weight of Lindsay while he'd succumbed to unconsciousness and, now, further restricting his airway through toying with her tasty tongue, he desperately needs to breath. Prolonging it as long as possible, he gasps when finally breaking their kiss. As he rolls them over, he slips from her body, evoking a mutual groan of remorse.

Laying beside her, Bobby looks across at perfection. He loves the affectionate smile that she bestows upon him, knows that part of its cause is that his own face is adorned with an idiotic grin; he can't help goofily grinning, not when he has this woman by his side, in his arms, holding his heart. Lying with her like this, he always feels like a kid in a toy-store; there are so many goodies but he has no idea where to start. Tonight his elation is even stronger than normal, though, because as he looks at her now, he sees her eyes free of the pained expression that's resided there these past few weeks. He knows that tonight he has bough only a temporary stay, but he sincerely hopes that by the time this vacation ends, he's sent it permanently away.

Every sensation, every emotion, feels heightened tonight because when they'd arrived here, he'd feared an end. Instead, miraculously, he now knows that tonight is actually the first hours of the rest of their lives. The mistakes that he has made in the past, he'll learn from them, rectify his errors and strive not to commit them again. From this moment on, he'll do what he's been promising to do for too long now: he'll see her, love her, think of her and, most of all, consider her. He'll remember that he isn't alone anymore, and he won't stop until she knows that he never wants to be alone again, never wants to be without her.

The distance that's been between them of late, the chink that he suspects was formed when they were here last, will be no more. It's time, now, to heal that wound, time to draw together and time to let her know that she is his world. As aloof and inconsiderate as he may, at times, unconsciously be, that will never change; she is his world and his life. He just needs to learn how to show it, how to love her as she deserves to be loved; and learn he will because he has too much to lose should he not.

"What are you thinking?" Lindsay asks.

Looking at her, Bobby wonders just how long he's been running his fingers along her collarbone, as he has no recollection of them ever arriving there. He settles his body along hers and, looking deep into her eyes, says, "About you... about us... being here and ..." he pauses as a noise distracts him.

"What?" Lindsay asks, running her hand over his cheek to draw his attention back to her.

"Shhhh..." he whispers, "Did you hear something?"

"Bobby!" she practically whines, she'd thought that they were done with playing games.

"Someone's here, I heard something..." he begins to explain.

"Not this again," Lindsay huffs and caressing his face, insists, "No one's here, Bobby, it's just us now."

He smiles realizing that she's misunderstood and believes that he is reverting back to the past again. Not having heard anything further, he thinks that he'd been mistaken and returns his full attention to her. He's leaning in for a kiss when the sound of knocking is heard.

They look at one another startled, then Lindsay grins, "You ordered room service, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Bobby laughs and scrambles from the bed.

Wrapping Lindsay's discarded towel around his waist, Bobby hurries to the door. He watches apathetically as the food is wheeled in; he is more eager to return to a warm bed and body than sate a different appetite. When the bellhop walks towards him, he's reverie is broken as he suddenly realizes that he has nothing for a tip. Panicked, in a reflex action, he pats pockets that he doesn't have. He's about to make a joking comment, about his wallet being in his other pants, when his attention is drawn to Lindsay emerging from the bedroom door. An enormous hotel robe covers her and bare feet peek out adorably from under its fluffy depths. Bobby is mesmerized, he notices that she's carrying another robe and can't help the enormous grin that rises at the thought of lounging out here and eating their meal with so little between him and Lindsay skin. God, she looks incredible.

Bobby briefly considers wiping the lecherous grin off of the bellhop's face with his fist, except he'd actually have to take his attention off of Lindsay to do so. Not that he can see said grin on the geeky fools face but he knows it is there. With Lindsay entering the room, looking like she does - her rosy skin, her beaming smile, the ethereal afterglow that she's emitting that does nothing to conceal she's in love and has just been thoroughly loved - God, how could anyone not want her with all their soul when she looks like that? He feels himself grow taller as pride surges in him that he is the one that made her feel that way; he loves that he has brought that radiance to her. He feels his whole body thrum with joy, trapped in a swirling combination of memory and expectation; oh, boy, what we just did and when are we gonna do it again? He wants to take her in his arms, lose himself in her and never let that smile fade away but his body is glued to the spot; his limbs are like lead and he watches, spellbound, as Lindsay, gliding on air, passes him by. He hears, not the words but the glorious timbre of her voice as she speaks to the bellhop, hands him a tip and then ushers him out of the door.

Closing the door behind him, Lindsay then turns and leans against it; she smiles into Bobby's eyes, his heart, then pushing off of the hard surface walks to the couch, where she then sits with legs curled under her. She looks up at Bobby, expectantly, and, amused, asks, "What are you still doing over there?"

In the spirit of total honesty, Bobby admits the full truth, "Admiring you."

Amazed at this man before her, delighted with the admiration in his eyes and his voice, Lindsay smiles, a full blown smile that shoots tingles throughout her body, and purrs, "Well, come over here and do it closer." She's left wondering who's husky voice has commandeered her body, that's twice tonight she's heard someone else speak her words. Thankfully Bobby doesn't seem to mind the new her because, after a delicious rise and fall of his Adam's apple, he walks her way.

Bobby waited long enough to decide that, no, he hasn't spontaneously combusted before following her command. He walks towards her on lust addled legs, he completes the distance just before his knees give out and flops onto the couch with his head in her lap. He lays there and looks up at her, takes every stroke of her hand over his skin and welcomes it into his heart, it's currently almost aching with all the pleasure coursing through it. Her eyes reach right into him and pull out every thought. "You're so beautiful," he reverently whispers, his fingers reaching out and playing with hers, over and over they twist and turn, never losing contact but never holding still. His eyes drift from their hands back to her face, "I love you," he says, a little louder this time but still with less voice than breath.

He watches her swallow, then a tiny tear escapes, "Oh, no, don't do that," he says, wiping it away.

Lindsay takes hold of his hand, pressing his palm to her lips, before resting it against her heart as she leans down to press her lips to his forehead. "I'm happy," she promises as she rises again; the hand not holding his runs over his chest, before coming to rest on his heart as she confides, "I love you."

"It's crazy," Bobby says, without intention.

"What is?" Lindsay asks with a smile.

"The way..." he shakes his head and Lindsay watches a flush creep over his skin.

She knows that look well, it's his I'm-going-to-say-something-and-I'm-scared-that-you'll-laugh look, but she never does laugh, no, never in moments like this when his heart is so obviously on his sleeve. She waits, looks into his eyes, brushes her fingers over his lips and encourages him with a smile; he hears the silent plea, 'Tell me?'

"I know that you love me," he says, then his mouth twists in a grin at his audacity. Lindsay smiles back at him, waiting, knowing that there is more. Bobby takes a deep breath, then says, "But the way that I feel... when you say it... it's like I'm hearing it for the first time, every time... it's crazy."

"It isn't crazy," she assures him, "That's love."

"You too?" he grins, delighted by such a discovery, by the thought that he could make her feel this... this wonderfully strange.

Lindsay sighs, he's such an adorable fool sometimes. For all his arrogance and stubbornness, Bobby has such low expectations when it comes to the regard of other's; he refuses to see how essential he is to them and how much he touches the lives of those that he holds dear. She draws him up so that he's sitting beside her, then moving into his arms they both lay down again. She rests her cheek on his shoulder as she whispers into his ear, "Every time, Bobby, I feel it every time too."

They begin to kiss, slow sweet kisses, this-is-how-I-feel kisses, but soon Bobby's sighs turn into a groan. Shifting his hips a little, he moves the additional robe out from under him so that he can lay more comfortably. He looks at her and asks, "Do you want me to put this on?"

"You don't have to, no," she replies, sliding her hands over his bare chest and abdomen, "I don't have any objection to the way you are now, Bobby," she grins and adds, "I just thought that you might get cold."

"I'm sure that you'll keep me warm," he hums, kissing her cheek he moves closer to her lips.

"Only if you feed me," she warns, the aroma of their meal reminding her of her other hunger.

Chuckling, Bobby rises from the couch, places their meal on the coffee table, then sits on the floor beside her feet. While one hand traces her closest ankle, the other pats the floor between his outstretched legs as he suggests, "Come sit here."

"But I'm all comfy on the couch," she whines, not sure that she can give a convincing performance of someone who would rather not sit in his embrace.

Laying his head on the couch, Bobby then turns his face to the side to look at her and pouts dramatically. Grinning as she thinks that neither are likely to win any awards for these performances, Lindsay leans forward and drops a feather light kiss on his cheek. Sighing with spectacular intensity, she utters, "Fine, you win," before, eagerly, scooting off the couch. Narrowly avoiding the hands that he rubs together in glee, she climbs into his lap and, huddled within his limbs, settles herself comfortably.

Pleased with her easy acquiescence, Bobby wraps his arms around her. His mouth hovers by her ear as he asks, "Enjoying your holiday?"

Although to any one else's ears his question would seem innocent, Lindsay hears the underlying query, is it okay for you being here? "So far sooooooo good," she hums. Looking around the room, she sees only tonight, only contentment, and, as much to still any further queries as to remind Bobby of the fact, she adds, "Except, I'm getting hungrier by the second."

"Me too," Bobby says and sucks her earlobe into his mouth.

Lindsay tries to wriggle away but, with his arms and legs surrounding her, she's trapped, "Bobbeeeeeeeeeeee," she whimpers.

"Okay, okay, okay," he says and releases her so that she can crawl to the table to retrieve their food. He feels like a kitten, desperate to pounce, as he watches the delicious ball of fluff moving away. Oh, to unravel that and reveal what is underneath; his mind's eye can fill in the details but his body wants the reality.

Lindsay smiles at him when she reaches the table, Bobby's besotted grin and glazed eyes telegraph his every thought. Her body runs cold, goose-bumps pebbling her flesh as all her body's heat rushes to congregate between her thighs. Without a word or a touch, he can send her body out of this world.

Bobby delights in the added color that rises over her skin, the sudden shyness that washes over her under his gaze. Is it any wonder that he'll never understand her; she's a tigress one minute and virginal the next.

Although she'd dropped her eyes from him, upon seeing two meals when she removes the cover from the tray, they quickly rise again as she laughingly mimics, "Some of us ate on the plane."

"Some of us just gave away a lot of protein," Bobby retorts.

Lindsay looks at him in surprise, her mouth forming a shocked, 'O,' before she smiles. "You do have a point," she says as she hands him his dinner, "I can't have you fading away on me, I have big plans for you."

Bobby is left speechless by the possibility of what these plans may entail, his mouth opens then closes as he silently takes the meal from her..

Picking up her own, she looks over at him, unsure of whether to return to the couch or the floor. Bobby smiles, encouraging her to come back, and, although she knows that it is going to make eating more difficult for them both, she can't help wanting to return to his embrace.

"This is insane, you realize?" she says, resting her plate on her knee and her back against his chest.

"Hmm, hmm," he grunts around a mouthful of food.

Shaking her head at his rapacious appetite, she stops thinking about it and turns her attention to her own meal. Lindsay's surprised how relaxing it is to feel him chewing behind her. His body rocking her to a rhythm that soothes her completely while she listens to the sounds of his enjoyment. Insane it may be, but she's not moving for anyone.

In his typical garbage disposal style, Bobby finishes eating long before Lindsay does. While she'd taken her time, enjoying talking to him as much as eating, his mind had been decidedly one-tracked. Although she knows that he's becoming a little restless now, she makes no effort to hurry; she's perfectly content with the way things are. When she sees Bobby take a French-fry off of her plate, she's about to reprimand him, until he raises it to her lips. Accepting it, she leans back against his shoulder as she raises her face to smile gratefully at him and kisses the underside of his jaw.

"Feeling better, now that you've been fed?" he asks.

"Much."

"Good, so you won't want this then," he says, then, stealing another fry from her plate, he eats it.

"Hey!" Lindsay loudly protests.

She tries to move out of his reach but his hands grasp her waist and hold her against him. Giggling, she scrambles onto her knees and fakes turning to face him, when his hands lessen their hold to allow her to do so, Lindsay lurches in the opposite direction. Bobby jumps forward, grabbing her again. Laughing, they land in a heap on the floor, her plate and its contents scattering around them.

"This was real smart on a full stomach, Bobby!" Lindsay complains in as stern a voice as she can muster while trying to curb her laughter.

Rolling off of her, Bobby petulantly whines, "Hey, if you were already full, why no share?"

"Because they're mine!" she drawls.

"Well, I get bored just watching you eat, come on, gimme some?"

"No! It's your own fault for eating so fast. If you chewed instead of inhaling your food you wouldn't be done yet." When his only response is a pout, she adds, "Talk to me."

"Excuse me?"

"If you're bored, then, talk to me."

"Fine," he grouches and, grinning, they rise to return to leaning against the couch.

Lindsay shoots him a dirty look when she realizes just how much of her meal remains unscattered, then picking up the decimated plate, sits beside him with her plate now out of his reach.

"Celtics aren't looking good this season," Bobby says.

"Bobby!" Lindsay laughs and slaps his leg playfully.

"Not what you wanted to hear?" he grins.

"Not even close."

Bobby laughs, but doesn't offer any further conversation, so Lindsay decides to start one herself.

"Bobby, remember earlier?"

"What? When we were busy breaking the decency laws of at least forty states? Sure, how could I forget?"

Lindsay grins at him, then says, "I meant, when you'd started to tell me what you were thinking about."

"Ahhhh, and you're still curious to know."

"Yeah," she says, looking at him with such hope that he knows, even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't refuse.

"I was thinking about us, about your smile and how much I've missed it lately," pausing, he sighs, "It isn't that we've been unhappy, or at least I haven't been, but..."

"Bobby, I haven't been unhappy," Lindsay assures him.

"Things haven't been right between us though, have they?"

"No," she concedes.

"Am I wrong in thinking that that may have started here?"

No longer having the appetite for it, Lindsay puts the remainder of her meal aside. She moves until she's no longer seated beside Bobby but opposite him. Sitting cross legged, she plays with the sash on her robe before looking up and saying, "I don't know for sure, Bobby. Maybe it's a culmination of a lot of things... but no, I don't recall feeling this way, the way that I've felt lately, before we came here."

"How have you felt?"

"Unsettled, hurt, unsure..."

"About us?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

"What you're feeling, and thinking..." When Bobby shakes his head, his disappointment obvious on his face, it instantly stops Lindsay speaking as she looks down at the fascinating carpet pattern.

Bobby wonders how she could ever doubt how he feels. To him it seems like it's written clearly all over his face, like it shows in everything that he says and does. It consumes him so much that he finds it hard to understand how others don't see the magnitude of what he feels for her. He feels like a walking bill board for the adoration of Lindsay Dole and yet, here she is telling him that she's been feeling hurt and lost because she doesn't know what is going on with him, doesn't know what he feels for her. His initial reaction is an angry, 'She should know.' Then, as he looks out at the room instead of the questioning eyes that she has raised to him, he remembers why they are here. He remembers that his anger and uncertainty had clouded his better judgment, how he'd allowed the pain he had been feeling to impel him to push her away, to close himself off to her and, most regrettably, to hurt her in return. Of course she's been feeling hurt and unsure, he's never explained what occurred; he's never told her why the man who had stepped off of that plane to join her out here hadn't been the one that she had called for help, the one that she had needed.

He looks over at her now and reaches out his hand, she raises hers to meet his; they hold on, just looking at one another, almost a fearful are-we-really-going-to-do-this question in their eyes. God, are they actually going to talk? Taking a deep breath, Bobby begins the conversation that should have occurred a month ago.

"I can't excuse the things that I did, or said, when we were here, but I'm sorry and I want to make it up to you."

Lindsay nods, she knows that he's sincere and that, deep down, he never wanted to hurt her. Unfortunately, at times, Bobby is a typical only child, seeing life in terms of his wants, his needs, his feelings and leaving her floundering in his wake. Used to the world revolving around him, he often acts purely for self interest, the feelings and considerations of others' not entering his mind until they rebel his treatment of them. It isn't a deliberate act of cruelty, for he's a naturally generous man, he's just not always particularly insightful or empathetic. Never having grown up sharing his confidences or having had to step back to allow another's needs to shine, doing so, now, at his age, is a difficult transition to make. Lindsay knows that he's trying, it's just, sometimes she wonders if he is trying hard enough.

To give him credit, though, she also knows that he isn't solely to blame. They are, at times, strikingly similar, as she too finds confessions hard to make. Having decided on a career steeped in Boy's Club mentality, she knew that to succeed she'd have to present herself as stronger, smarter and more confident than she is. The act, honed to precision over many years, is hard to relinquish, even with him. The thought of showing weakness is abhorrent to her, so, when hurting, she buries her pain, not wanting to be seen as unable to cope. While Bobby's behavior is somewhat unintentional, hers is a deliberate act of self preservation. She wonders, now, does it hurt him doubly to know that she chooses to hide herself from him?

Having received no reply from Lindsay, Bobby continues his apology, "You needed me and I wasn't there for you, I..."

"You're right," Lindsay replies, although her words may seem harsh, her tone conveys sorrow more than accusation. "I needed you then... and I never understood why you weren't there... it hurt just coming into this room tonight."

"Was this... was this a bad idea?"

Lindsay shakes her head and caresses his hand, "I don't think so."

"I just wanted a do over, I wanted a chance to make it right this time," stopping to look at her, Bobby's suddenly reminded of the pain Lindsay had been unable to hide earlier, of the pain that he'd caused her by bringing her here. Looking away, he winces, "Yeah, you're right, this was silly."

He moves to drop her hand but Lindsay won't let him go. "Bobby," she insists, "I never said that."

"But..."

"I said that it had hurt coming here, it did, a lot, but, Bobby, it doesn't hurt to be here anymore, this... this is just a hotel room now, so that's a start, right?"

He nods, unconvincingly.

Squeezing his hand, she assures him, "It was a good idea, Bobby, we did need this... do need it, we... we should have talked this out a long time ago."

"Why didn't we?"

"You're honestly asking me why we didn't talk?" she drops his hand as she shakes her head, "Bobby, when do we ever talk?"

"That isn't true, we talk. Lindsay, you could have said something, I would have..."

"Why should I always have to start the conversations? You could have apologized sooner that would have gotten the ball rolling. You didn't have to fly me across the country to do it, anytime, anywhere, Bobby, I would have listened. 'I'm sorry,' how hard would that have been to say?" Feeling herself getting angry, Lindsay rises and walks away, not wanting to let emotion get control. She remembers now why they never talk, it's dangerous and unpredictable and it terrifies her.

Sitting down at the table, her swirling emotions feel achingly familiar. She recalls having flung her cup at Lucy and let everyone see her in distress, having fled to this spot and sat here miserably wondering, why it was all going so wrong? Bobby had come to her then, she remembers fondly his proffered hand and efforts to soothe her sorrow. She'd spoken, as she so rarely does, of what troubled her and, with an understanding ear and a gentle hand, he'd made it seem better, for, at least, that tiny moment. It hadn't been all bad, she'll give him that. She probably should have spoken to him more then, told him of all and not just the latest hurt; maybe, if she'd told him how he was making her feel, things could have been corrected long ago. He's trying now, in his Bumbling Bobby way and here she is, again trying to bury how she feels; too afraid to disclose all, she's again hiding the truth from him. They'll never get through things this way, they need to talk to get past the hurt, the misunderstandings.

How many conversations has she walked away from, how many times has she told him only portions of the truth? That's the problem, at times they talk in cryptic sentences, protect themselves with ambiguity instead of outright declarations and then wonder why they struggle to stay on the same page. Had she spoken then of the pain his attitude was causing her, instead of merely about her disappointment in the progress of the case, then all of this could have been avoided. She's positive his behavior would have changed had he stopped to think about how it was affecting her. As she thinks of this, she becomes aware that, at the time, she'd never asked herself why Bobby was acting the way that he had been. Too caught up in her own emotions she had never stopped to consider the origins of his. No, in her typical turtle way, the moment that she was hurt she immediately hid behind her protective walls, hoping that when she again emerged, the pain would have gone away. Her thoughts circulate now. Had she appeared to him as aloof as he'd appeared to her? Had she compounded whatever troubled him by shutting him out? How can she expect him to understand what's going on when she never confides in him?

Lindsay knows that, while here, in order to protect herself she'd worn blinders around Bobby, except in the courtroom. His testosterone filled first meeting with Dennis, his accusatory looks at her and his constant desire to drop the case, pack up and leave, had all rattled her so much that she'd shut him out without stopping to discover why he was acting the way that he was. She'd put his attitude down to a mood and kept waiting for it to break but it grew harsher instead. Her protective armor is a shield behind which she runs and hides but Bobby's is a wall of thorns, he lashes out to protect himself, to keep her away, he shoots a prickle where it will most hurt knowing that she'll run and leave him alone.

Bobby, being the one who normally acts out, makes an easy target of himself and Lindsay knows that she's quite often guilty of being the one to take aim. It is so much easier to lay the blame on him than to accept her share in it, but share it she does. She's hurt him just as much as he's hurt her and the only way for them to recover from this is to face it together, openly and honestly. She decides that tonight she will drop her camouflage and accept her own culpability. It's time that they opens themselves up to a full discussion and let things fall where they may fall. Not so long ago she'd doubted Bobby's love, she doesn't anymore, even though she knows that they have a hurdle in front of them she believes that their love will see them through. As angry as they may become with each other, as disappointed and hurt as they may at times be, their love always perseveres. Their love refuses to relinquish control and makes the struggle that this life can be so worthwhile.

Decision made, Lindsay quietly says, "What I never understood... was, why you couldn't believe in me."

Although she cannot see Bobby and he doesn't speak, she knows that he's heard the question because she hears him rise and walk towards her. His hand brushes over her shoulder as he passes her by then sits at the table. He places his hand over hers, reminiscent of when they'd last sat here and, after a moment of silence, he says, "Honestly, I think that it would have made it too hard for me to hate him, if I had believed in his innocence."

"Bobby?" she asks, not understanding.

"It wasn't that I didn't believe in you, Lindsay, I've always believed in you... I just... I... this time..." he drops his head and takes his hand off of hers as he admits, "I didn't want to."

"Bobby, were you angry when I left?"

"Left where?"

"To come out here, you made no objection when I told you that I was going to, you drove me to the airport and everything seemed fine, I thought you were okay with it... but when you arrived here, you had this attitude that I just couldn't get through to. Why didn't you say something to me before I left if you hated the idea so much?"

"Lindsay, I was fine with you going, despite appearances I always was, someone calls you for help you go, I'd do it too. I was proud of you for going, Linds, it's what we do."

"Then why the attitude?"

Bobby sighs and looks down at the table, his hands play over the surface as he considers the question; it isn't that he doesn't know the answer, it's just a hard one to confess, one he'd hoped that he wouldn't have to admit to. Oh, sure, he'd told himself that he was prepared to tell her everything, but, deep down, he hadn't included the aspects that illustrate what a loser he is. No, he'd hoped to leave those ones covered up but trust Lindsay to not give up on that point. Trust Lindsay to need that confession above all else.

"Bobby, you said earlier that you were hurt by what you thought was my disinterest at the airport... but it doesn't make sense that you wouldn't give me a second chance. I'm sorry about not... for appearing not to notice you, for seeming as though I hadn't missed you, but... it was more than my behavior when you arrived, wasn't it? I mean, Bobby, the first thing that you said to me when we were alone was an attack, you never gave me a chance to show you that I had missed you... That isn't like you... Bobby, I know that sometimes... sometimes I've appeared cold to you but you've always been patient with me, you've always given me a chance to explain what was going on with me, it felt... this time it felt like you didn't want to... Did I do something to make you feel this way, did I..."

"No." He shakes his head, looking down at his clutched hands as they rest on the table, he knows that he can't keep silent anymore, that he can't let her lay the blame on herself, "No, it wasn't you, Lindsay, you didn't do anything."

"Then what, Bobby?"

"I just didn't want to like him," his answer is feeble and he knows that she'll never leave it at that.

"There's more to it than that, Bobby, and you know it." When he looks at her but offers no reply, she insistently asks, "Why did you act that way?"

He can't deny her plea and wrenches out his confession, "I was jealous."

"What? No!" she reaches for his hands as she says, "For God's sake... Bobby, why?"

"Because I didn't know what he meant to you."

"What he meant to me?" Lindsay asks stunned, before pushing up from the table, needing more animation than being seated offers, "He meant nothing, Bobby. You knew that, I told you so before I left. He was someone that I knew, facing a death penalty and looking for advice, that's all... he was desperate, he was afraid and he needed someone that he trusted... you knew that! I told you..."

"I know, I believed you, I did..."

"Believed?" she says, unimpressed, "What changed?"

"What changed is..." he sighs, here it comes, he thinks, knowing that she isn't going to like what he has to say. Taking a deep breath, preparing to see the horror on her face, he says, "The next day... when I tried to explain it to the others, they started me thinking... and I didn't like those thoughts. Faced with their questions, questions that I didn't have the answers to... I didn't like it. Then on the flight... five hours of hearing them voiced over and over again... I was sick to death of Dennis and..."

Not liking what's she's hearing, Lindsay leans over the table as she asks, "What questions?"

Bobby feels his whole body shrivel up in response to her glare, he feels sorry for all those witnesses that he's let her loose on because he feels her power, he feels her drawing the confession out of him, he knows exactly what it must be like to face her on the witness stand, to want to keep something in but be unable to stop it from coming out. The words that he wishes he could conceal, flow from him, "Why would you fly half way across the country for someone you hardly knew? There had to be more, what was it? Was there more to your relationship with Dennis? Was there an old boyfriend out there?"

Lindsay turns from the table and walks out onto the balcony. The air is colder now, both, outside and within, making her pull her robe tighter around herself, trying to ward of the chill. Never one to find confrontations easy, her instincts to fly have kicked in. She finds tonight's roller-coaster of emotions too much and needs space. Unfortunately, Bobby, the king of leave-me-alone doesn't quite grasp that and follows her out.

"Talk to me," he says.

Lindsay shakes her head at the fact that he has the gall to request that. No kidding it is his middle name. She can think of a few other names that she'd like to call him too, none of them are in the least complimentary. Although, petulantly, she wants to remain silent, to let him see what it's like to wonder what's going on inside a loved one's head, she knows that it will benefit no one to do so. She needs to say this as much as he needs to hear it, she's held this one in for far too long.

"I just... I hate that everyone in that office thinks that I'm promiscuous."

Bobby thinks that he may have just made a colossal mistake but shock at what she had just said made him laugh loudly, "Excuse me?" he says, quickly regaining composure after seeing her disappointed face.

Lindsay looks across at him and can't help feeling a tinge of amusement at the contrite expression on his face. It's enough to relax her a little and to take the aggravation she was feeling towards him away. Turning to face him fully, she quietly says, "It hurts that whenever I try and help someone it's immediately assumed that sex is involved."

"Lindsay?" Bobby says in the tone that he always uses to placate her.

It makes her feel coddled, as if her concerns are irrational and she hates being patronized, especially by Bobby. Lindsay knows that just because Bobby says something isn't so doesn't mean that her perception of a situation has been wrong, after all he isn't the most intuitive of men. So, ignoring his incredulity, she completes what she needs to say, "I know that I'm a little to blame for it, I know... I know that I have the reputation as the woman who joined the firm, conned you with her naivety, waited until you were hooked, then ended it, leaving me with leverage to make demands on you... to make a power play..."

"Is that what you did?" Bobby asks.

Surprised by the question, Lindsay steps towards him, "Bobby, you know that it isn't."

"Yeah," he nods, also taking a step closer, "Yeah, I do... and, Lindsay, so do they. No one thinks of you like that, I don't know where...."

"They do, Bobby. Maybe they hide it from you but I hear the snide remarks, I hear the insinuations that they make..."

"No one makes...."

"Ellenor did, 'Get over your professor, Lindsay. What did you do sleep with the guy?' And you just told me that they asked you whether I'd had a relationship with Dennis or... whether there was an old boyfriend out here that I'd wanted to see... and Bobby, you admitted that you wondered about that too..."

"I... uh..."

"And whether you believed it or not, you perpetuated the insinuation, you stood out here and asked me what Dennis had on me. You basically told me that not even you could believe that I may just want to help someone, no, not Lindsay, Lindsay has one motive and one motive only; I must have ~done something,~ Dennis must have something on me that I'm trying to hide because sex is the only reason that I could ever be willing to help someone. For God's sake, you accused me of modeling naked for him... Bobby, that hurt!"

"I'm sorry about that," Bobby says taking another small step forward, at the rate that he is walking he should reach her side by Christmas.

Lindsay barely notices his approach as she continues venting; these emotions have been laying dormant for a long time now and it feels liberating to let them out. "And Bobby, even as far back as with Chris, Rebecca said that it would be hard to prove it wasn't consensual with my reputation."

"What reputation?" Bobby asks, surprised at how much happens around him that he never sees.

"My past behavior with Chris... and..." she sighs, "A certain conference room table incident."

As the memory of that night returns, Bobby can't help the small smile that arises. Seeing this, Lindsay, too, finds herself slipping back in time. "Don't you dare smile, Bobby Donnell," she warns, her own grin threatening to emerge, "You got off scot free on that..."

"No pun intended," he teases, ducking his head down to hers to prevent her averting her eyes.

"You creep," she laughs, pushing him away.

Instead of being forced away, Bobby grabs onto her hand and pulls her closer. Whispering his love into her ear, he holds her in his arms until he feels the tension in her body begin to fade. Pulling from the embrace, he tells her, "As I recall, you were the one who insisted no one was to know about us, you were the one who suggested that we christen the new table and you were the one who left, amongst other things, an earring behind, thereby sealing your fate..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you have an answer for everything, don't you? Meanwhile, I'm the one left with the reputation."

"Hey, I'll quite happily go call them all up now and admit to my part in that incident, if that will make you happy," Bobby says stepping towards the door, stopping only when Lindsay grabs his arm.

Hissing, "Don't you dare!" she pulls him back towards her. When he relents, she adds, "That's all I need, more gossip about our sex life."

Unsure what to say, unsure what her current mood is and unsure if he's still in the doghouse, Bobby decides a nod is safe and waits to see what she'll say next.

"It's only going to get worse," Lindsay moans.

"What is?" Bobby asks concerned.

"The gossip about us. After what happened before we came out here and then... the way that we were when we were here, I saw them watching..." she sighs, "It's only going to get worse."

"What happened... before?"

Astonished, Lindsay gives Bobby an are-you-serious look, when he shrugs, she reminds him, "Lucy walked in on us just as I was telling you that I need more sex. Then... I fly out here supposedly chasing after some old boyfriend, we hardly speak to each other unless we're fighting... I can just imagine the type of things that are being said about me now."

Bobby averts his eyes.

Immediately suspicious, Lindsay's hand raises to cover her surprised, 'Oh,' before dropping as she asks, "What have you heard?"

"Nothing," he assures her, looking up sheepishly.

Unconvinced, she warns him, "Tonight isn't the night to lie to me, Bobby."

Wincing he steps forward, his head droops as he sighs, "Jimmy was saying that he didn't get it, meaning your motives for the Pinkner case and Lucy pipes up with, 'It's Lindsay who's not getting it... from Bobby.' That's all I've heard, I promise and that was ages ago. It's all been forgotten now, that was just Lucy being Lucy..."

Lindsay groans, allowing her chin to drop to her chest.

"Hey, I'm the one who comes off as bad in that, anyway, not you."

"How do you figure that out?" she doubtfully asks.

"Because, it suggests that I don't satisfy you."

"Or that I don't attract you," she counters.

His indulgent manner returns as he intones, "Lindsay," stepping forward, he takes her face in his hands, "Anyone with eyes can see that that couldn't be true. God, Lindsay, you... you're gorgeous."

Lindsay knows that she shouldn't give in to him but the love reflected in his eyes takes the power of reason away from her. Bobby makes her feel beautiful in a way that no one else ever has or could. Having always perceived herself as a mousy girl and felt overshadowed by prettier friends, to now be considered with such awe by someone, to be lauded as his idea of perfection, is frighteningly wonderful. He takes her breath away with his love and makes her body tingle as pleasure rushes through it. The smile that glides over her face encourages Bobby further and he leans in to kiss her, showing her with his body just how intensely attracted to her he is. Lindsay finds herself caught between being coaxed into surrender by his actions and her attempt to reexamine all that has been said, to try and determine if they've achieved anything tonight.

Sensing her distraction, Bobby pulls away and asks, "Are we okay?"

Seeing the fear in his eyes, she smiles and nods. Deciding that, more than a further airing of woes, reassurance is needed now, she steps closer to him, drapes her arms around his neck and vows, "I love you." The palpable relief in Bobby's eyes convinces her that her decision had been right. She kisses him, now focussing all of her attention on the act. As her hands run over his back, they register the temperature of his skin; realizing that he's still dressed only in a towel, she pulls away quickly, declaring, "God, Bobby, you must be freezing!"

Lindsay has dragged him back inside, deposited him on the couch and curled onto his lap to help rub him warm all before he's had a chance to respond. "You crazy fool," she admonishes, "You could have made yourself sick."

"I was fine," Bobby assures her, while relishing her tender ministrations. Seeing the concern in her eyes, he insists, "I was fine!"

Lindsay nods and cuddles in close. Their arms cling tight as they resume their conversation. The tone of it is less condemnatory as they talk, now, for comfort and not recrimination. They talk not of the troubles of the past but of their dreams for the future and the trivialities that had occurred to each today. When Bobby makes a raid on the mini-bar, he also decides, after a catastrophe where he lost it, that lounging in a towel isn't very practical. He returns to the room wearing boxers and begins to hand Lindsay her drink as he sits down beside her. Lindsay, however, doesn't notice the proffered hand as she is staring into space, a million miles away.

Bobby brushes the glass against her cheek, the chill of the contact quickly draws her back to his side. "Where were you?" he asks, smiling affectionately.

Lindsay leans back into the couch and quietly sighs, "This room has ghosts."

Bobby nods, he knows that it is true because he has felt them here too, has, during lulls in conversation, looked across to see two lonely aching people who are suffering alone, needlessly holding tight to their pain.

"I was so afraid while we were here," Lindsay confides.

Bobby sighs because he can see it now, with that miracle vision that only works after-the-fact and is useless and blind when needed. "I'm sorry," he says, it's a refrain that's becoming easier to say each time he tries it.

Lindsay's hand raises to rub along his arm, as she reminds him that it hadn't only been him, that there had been two playing the suffer-in-silence game. "It wasn't all bad," she tells him.

"It wasn't?" he asks skeptically, not remembering a moment that doesn't make him wince to think about.

Lindsay pauses in thought, then grinning, says, "The flight home was good."

"You slept the whole way," Bobby replies with a laugh.

"I know... but you held me while I did," she pauses to catch his eye, then adds, "There had been times, while here, when I wondered if you would ever do that again."

Although it hurts every time that he hears her doubts about him, about his love and his commitment, he doesn't censure her now for her uncertainty but rewards her honesty with his own truth, "All I'd wanted, the whole time I was here, was to hold you."

Lindsay nods as she rests her head against his chest, feeling the chill of his skin, she says, "Bobby, put the robe on, you're making me feel cold."

Bobby pouts as he stands, mouthing, 'cold,' gloomily, eliciting the smile that he'd hoped for from Lindsay.

As he wraps the robe around his goose-bump dotted skin, Lindsay says, "Promise me that you'll tell me if things aren't right for you."

"Excuse me?" he asks, not sure where she is going with this but having the creeping suspicion that he isn't going to like it.

Standing to help tie his sash, she looks down at her hands, as she continues, "When we were here, I began to believe that it was over between us and that you were just waiting until we were home to tell me, I'd wondered if... maybe, while I'd been gone, you'd decided... Promise me that you'll say something if things start going wrong between us... that you'll tell me before you decide to go, you'll give me a chance to make it right first... that I won't just..." looking up into his eyes, she says, "I don't want to wake up one day and find you're already gone."

"You know what, Lindsay, I'm so sick of this!" Bobby says pushing her hands away, tired of this battle that he never seems able to win.

"Us?" Lindsay asks, the horror widening her eyes as she watches her dream fall apart.

"No!" he shouts. When she flinches, he takes a calming breath before he declares, "See, there you go again."

"There I go, what?" she says standing straight, preparing to meet him, fire for fire.

Bobby steps towards her, sees in her eyes the desire to step back but knows that she's kept glued to the spot by her refusal to back down; her neck tilts up to keep eye contact with him and he hopes that this time she hears him.

"You watch me like a hawk, it's like every second you expect me to take flight. I have no intention of leaving and I'm sick of having to prove that to you, to prove myself to you. I'm not your father, I'm not... I'm in this relationship for life. I asked you to marry me because I want you by my side for the rest of my life. I've said it before, I've said it over and again... and, you know what, believe it, don't believe it, it's up to you..." his head shakes as he steps back, he pauses a moment then says, "I'm tired of having to prove that I'm committed to you when I have been, always. You are the one who walks away from us, Lindsay, not me... It's always you... you're the one who leaves... You leave me... Not me... You!"

"I..." she starts but then just as quickly stops.

"What?" he shouts; pain takes over, making him truculent and no longer interested in excuses, "You what?" he sneeringly asks.

"I..." she again tries, before lowering her eyes to the floor.

Her face scares Bobby with its lack of expression and cuts through his anger instantly. He can see by her body language that she's fighting the urge to run away and is furious at himself for having lost control of his temper. He'd brought her here in the hopes of healing the rift that had formed between them, they'd done that, tentatively, but now, now he's just ripped them even further apart - possibly irreparably so. Slumping down onto the couch, his head drops into his hands. He wants to say something, anything, to get her back but discovers that he can't find the words. He can't bring himself to apologize for speaking the truth, she does hurt him; every time she leaves, every time she doubts him, doubts them... it hurts.

It aches to know that she doesn't trust him, that no matter what he says or does her opinion of him will not change. What hurts the most, though, is the fear that she doesn't need him the way that he needs her. She has walked away from them, if she feels even a half of what he feels he can't see how she could possibly leave, the thought of doing so is beyond him. There is nothing that he believes in more than her, more than the fact that she is the only woman for him but this belief won't guarantee it is so, it won't keep her with him should she choose to go. She has broken his heart twice now, turned her back on a them and left him aching and alone. He doesn't doubt that it may happen again. What terrifies him is that one day it may hurt too much for him to take her back, one day he may lose all hope and just let her go. How often can he beg her not to do this and be turned down before he no longer has the will to fight it, to fight her? How often can he offer his heart and have it turned away before it refuses to open to her again? She is all that he wants but that means nothing if she doesn't feel the same way, and, their history tells him that she doesn't.

Lindsay looks up, expecting Bobby's acrimonious face but sees instead his devastated posture. She closes her eyes, not wanting to see or acknowledge such pain or that the cause of it lays solely on her shoulders. She realizes now something that should have always been obvious; Bobby's insecurity, his inability to believe that he's enough for her isn't something that is inherent in him but is something that has been caused by her. He is right, she has left, she has twice ended their relationship against his will. How many times can she do that and expect him to take her back? How many times will she shut herself off from what he is feeling and refuse to see the results of her actions because she'd rather not know?

She sees it now, the total desolation and despair on his face when she'd told him that she didn't want to marry him. He'd stood there, looking at her, blank and hollow. She'd pushed past him, packed a bag and left before he could say another word, all the while telling herself that it was because the decision had been made and there was no reason to stay, but in truth, the real reason had been she'd been unwilling to see his pain, not because she hadn't wanted to witness it but because she hadn't wanted to admit it even existed. No, in her delusional world, she could say it was over, walk out and that would be that. If she concentrated only on her own feelings then she didn't have to acknowledge that she was leaving a shattered man behind.

For the first time she reverses the situation, puts herself in his place and her heart aches for what she has put him through. Why has she never stopped to consider this before? When he'd come to her and promised to do anything if she'd come back to him, she'd seen only his hope. When she'd agreed to return to him, to marry him, she'd seen only his jubilation and that joy had carried them through the next blissful weeks. My God, she'd even congratulated herself on making him that happy. Why can she see her part in the highs but not the lows? The lows flash through her mind now, all those times that she'd hurt him. The defensive words, thoughtless attacks and outright betrayals all play through her mind in Technicolor vivacity and stereo sound so that she doesn't miss a single beat.

Lindsay goes right back to when she'd ended their original relationship, to the first heartbreak that she'd inflicted on him. She sees now Bobby's dismayed face when she'd ended it with no discussion, no explanation, just the words, 'This isn't right for me anymore and we need to stop.' His subsequent looks, indecisive questions and the distance that slowly developed between them, she'd convinced herself that none of that was because he was hurting, it was just confusion, maybe a little disappointment but he'd get over it. She'd had good reasons for ending it but she'd guarded them closely, never realizing that he'd needed to know them too. They'd been too personal to share but she sees now that she'd owed it to him to at least try, that he had suffered through not knowing why she'd needed to leave him.

Months later when he was hesitant to move forward with Helen, she'd convinced herself that it had nothing at all to do with him holding out hope that she'd change her mind, no, it was just because he's shy. Her memories, though, show how strong his hope for a reunion had been. It hurts now to acknowledge that with every approach to her he had made she'd push him in the opposite direction. Why did she never see this before? She knows Bobby, she knows how hard it must have been for him to even make a move, that he continued to do so when met with only rejection amazes her now. She could never be so strong.

Now, she can see how, in his Bobby way, he had laid his heart bare to her that final night when he'd said that he wished their break up was a little harder on her. What had she said in return, 'I'm on the verge of meeting someone else.' To her it was a statement of her hope that she'd find what he had with Helen but seeing, now, what he'd really been saying to her, she wonders had it felt to him like a slap in the face, she certainly hadn't meant it as such. To him, had her words really said, 'I know you want me but I'm waiting for someone better.' She'd never realized that maybe that is what he'd heard. How could she have ever let him believe that? It had always been so simple to make up her own reasons for the things that he said and did, for her to make up an excuse for any act of his which didn't seem to fit with what she'd decided he was feeling, for her to deny the incontrovertible truth... she has hurt him, then and now.

She knows that she needs to stop running from him, she needs to stop pushing him away when she is hurting. She needs to accept that with him it is okay to lose a little bit of control and, in not fighting it, maybe she can stop lashing out first and talking later. Maybe if she just tells it as it is from the start then she'll save them both a lot of pain. Why does she wait for the explosion before opening up? Why doesn't she let out her concerns piece by piece? She needs to start talking to him. She needs him know the truth about how she feels. She knows that she has to do something before she loses Bobby; she just can't lose him, he's the only man that she wants. Most importantly, she knows that she has to do something to stop herself from hurting him the way that she has, because seeing it now, she cannot live with the pain that she inflicts on him.

Lindsay knows that Bobby isn't the first person that she has hurt through thoughtlessness. Being naturally introverted, people have always terrified her and a frightened Lindsay is a hostile one. Over the years many a friendship has ended through thoughtless words. She never means to say them but when hurting, when put on the back-foot, she becomes astringent - or, if she's completely honest with herself, a bitch. As a small child her father had called her his Little Kitten, she still remembers vividly the first time that he'd discovered his kitten had claws; the shock and disappointment on his face horrifies her to this day. As much as she tries to avoid it, it doesn't take long before everyone she knows looks at her that way at least once. Seeing that look on Bobby's face tears at her, knowing that she's the cause just makes the ache that much harder to bear. She hates hurting him and is always left wondering, how many times can she turn on him before he turns away? Others have left long before this, what gives him the courage to stay?

She's spent so much of her life trying to be someone she wasn't, trying to be the person that others expect her to be, trying to protect herself from her own insecurities by filling the role they've decided for her. Her parents loving-daughter, her brother's funny-little-sister, a good-student, teammate, friend. Never feeling like she fits, like she belongs, she's always tried to be like others, to say and do as they do, to fight her natural instincts rather than risk being different. Always striving not to disappoint others, not to have them think ill of her, or talk about her is a constant battle against inevitable failure. Nobody is perfect but Lindsay has always forgotten this in her irrational fight to be so. I can do this, is her motto but what she always fails to consider is whether she should. Is it necessary to push so hard, to lose yourself in a quest, in an image, a role until even you don't know what is real anymore.

Endeavoring to be a better person than who she believes she is, Lindsay has always been oversensitive to barbs and always one breath away from her fear of failure winning out. Trying to defend herself, or trying to fit in, to be more like those surrounding her, she'd invariably say the wrong thing. Words that seemed perfect in her head would take on a whole new context once spoken, would be so far from what she really wanted to say that even she would be horrified by them. With each failure to say the right thing, to maintain control of her emotions, she'd bury herself deeper until even she couldn't recognize the true Lindsay Dole anymore. She became lost, her own thoughts and opinions suppressed in the hopes that by being more like those around her she'd be accepted by them but all it did was make her feel more alone, make her less able to relate to those she was trying to emulate and befriend, and make her less willing to begin relationships, to open herself up to the prospect of failing again, the prospect of pain.

For self protection, Lindsay immersed herself in books rather than people. School was a blessing, with research to back her up she could justify anything that she wanted to say and could defend her right to an opinion. She couldn't be denied when she had others backing her claims. Facts became her lifeline, dedication her armor and hard work filled the hole created by isolation. She received straight A's, was wanted on every debate team, her teachers loved her, but her classmates envied her and approached only when a partner was needed for a project, knowing that with her by their side more than half the work was already done. As each year wore on, as each new 'friend' deserted her once her use was gone, she drew further away from her peers, sunk further inside of herself and into her intellectual haven. She didn't need anyone, she was better off alone, or so she told herself every time the loneliness became too intense.

This is how she'd been until she'd met Helen. Helen was like no one she'd ever met before and she refused to allow Lindsay to hide. Her catch-cries of, 'Cut the crap, Lindsay,' and, 'Say what you really mean,' finally began to chip away at Lindsay's carefully constructed shell and, in time, the real Lindsay Dole began to tentatively emerge. As each part of herself was accepted by Helen, embraced even, Lindsay began to drop her defenses, to stop acting a part in the hopes of gaining approval. For the first time Lindsay found herself embraced for her true self. She found herself befriended, not out of necessity, not as a means to an end but because she was liked, was deserving, was enjoyed.

The better that she came to know Helen, the better she came to know herself. The relief of escaping the tight binds that she'd always held herself in was liberating but terrifying. It created a struggle that she still fights everyday, but, no longer is she fighting to suppress herself because now her battle is against the inherent urge to do so. She has to fight to remember that it is all right to feel, it is all right to relinquish control and that emotion is a part of life and not something that she should be pushing away. It is a hard struggle and one that she doesn't often win. She even gave up therapy because she found her pain too difficult to face, of course, at the time, she'd found other reasons to explain her decision. Having kept herself in a tight reign for so long it is almost as natural to her as breathing. It was too frightening letting all of her repression out. She has no intention of allowing her fears to beat her but nine times out of ten chooses denial as her form of defense; if I'm not feeling it, it can't defeat me.

Lindsay has never felt emotions as strongly as she does now, as she does loving Bobby. He stirs things up in her that are beyond reason, beyond restraint and as such opens himself up to become a victim to her fears, a victim to her need to wound when she's feeling hurt. They are two of a kind that way, terrified of themselves and each other. Now she can see so clearly how he has misread her doubts. Her hesitation in their relationship has always been due to the fact that it is unbelievable to her that she could be enough for him; her admiration for him and her low self esteem make it impossible for her to believe that he could want only her. Her actions, though, tell a different story. In constantly giving him an out, she sees now that she has left him believing that he isn't enough for her, that their relationship isn't important to her. Looking at him now, she can't help questioning her past actions and acknowledging their results, acknowledging that she is slowly destroying his belief in himself.

Why has she never listened to his words, preferring to see things in the worst conceivable way? Why, despite the evidence, despite everything that he has said and done, did she so nonchalantly hand him over to another? Why did she hand him to someone that she had decided could be what he wanted, when what he had wanted was so obviously her? Why, after such a horrible year apart, when they had finally become lovers again, did she at the first sign of trouble offer to walk away, to go back to just being friends, when it was the last thing that either of them wanted, when they had struggled so hard to get to where they were? Why has she never given him the impression that being with him is something that she is willing to fight for, that he is too essential for her to lose? Why has she never let him know that she's willing to endure all the hassles, all the hardships just to have him by her side? No, she just offers to leave, to go back to being friends, never considering the message that that gives him. He'd told her time and again that he didn't want to go back, that he wanted them together... so why does she keep offering? Why didn't she ever see how much it had hurt him every time she had made the offer? She had believed that she was doing it for him; how could she have been so naive?

She sees it all now and is determined that, from this moment on, the misunderstandings stop. This week and every week after she'll show him, she'll make him see that she has never wanted to leave, never wanted any other man, never loved or could ever love another as much as she loves him. She will let him know that because she needs him to know it. She wonders, though, how will she find the courage to say it all? She knows that it won't all be resolved tonight but, if he gives her just one more chance, she will make it known to him before they leave for home. She needs to tell him because she can't bear for him to doubt himself any longer. She knows how much it hurts to believe yourself unworthy, and hates that she has created this insecurity in him.

"I'm sorry," Lindsay says hoping that Bobby still believes what they have is salvageable, that, once again, he will forgive her.

Bobby looks up in surprise, "You?" he whispers.

"Bobby, I..." she starts then, sighing, steps forward to stand directly in front of him. She finds it almost impossible to face the pain in his eyes, but reminding herself that it is there because of her she takes her punishment.

Bobby watches Lindsay's hands as they struggle not to reach out and touch him. He needs their touch, though, so lifting his own, he asks for hers in return. Lindsay smiles tearfully at him as their hands join. Their connection seems to bring assurance to her and she begins to speak.

"I'm sorry that I leave... it's just..." the words won't come, no matter how much she wants to say them, they refuse to surface, dropping her head a little, she sighs, "I hate confrontations, I don't like arguing, Bobby."

Bobby can't help but bark a laugh, leaning back into the couch, he looks up at her, "You? Lindsay, you can out argue anyone..."

"That's different, Bobby, that's work, this... this is my life, the stakes are so much higher here and it terrifies me. What if... Bobby, you know that sometimes I go too far, once I get started who knows where I'll end up... I can't do that personally, what if I go too far, what if I say something that I can never take back, what if I hurt you too much... what if I...? How many arguments do I actually finish with you? Bobby, I always think that I can control it, can control myself, but then you're there and I'm over emotional and I get defensive... I get bitchy... and I get scared... I don't leave because I don't want to be with you, I leave because I'm afraid of what I'll say next, that I'll go too far and, in doing so, I'll lose you. "

"You leave me so that you won't lose me?" Bobby says, amusement warring with doubt.

"I leave you before I can make you hate me. I need you Bobby, more than you know... I... you're my best friend, I leave in the hope that I don't jeopardize that..."

"Lindsay," he says affectionately, looking at her and shaking his head.

"Don't," she pleads, not wanting his platitudes. "I have hurt you, Bobby, things that I've said... that I've done, I have hurt you."

Bobby sits up straight, holding her hand in both of his he tugs on it a little until she meets his eyes. "I know that you have and I've hurt you too... Lindsay, isn't that what tonight's been about? When we were here I hurt you... Lindsay, we both say things in anger... we bait one another and go too far..."

"I don't mean to..."

"I know that... neither do I... heat of passion."

Lindsay nods, and whispers, "I just get so scared."

Bobby nods too, he sees how frightened she is and says, "We need to learn to talk without shouting." Lindsay smiles at the thought of him suggesting that, seeing her point, Bobby concedes, "Or maybe we should implement a safe word..."

"What like uncle?" she grins.

Bobby grins, "Yeah, but one that will work, that one has no affect on you."

Lindsay smiles, knowing that he's only teasing, that his suggestion isn't sincere, it's just a way to lighten the mood, but, in a way, it is her point.

"But, see, Bobby, when I get to that stage, even if we had a word... I don't think that anything could make me stop. I want to, believe me, I do want to but... I can't. I just keep pounding at you until I realize how close to the line I've become... I stop then, more for fear than intention... when I see what I've done and know what I'm about to do... I have to go, Bobby, I'm so afraid of what I might do to you, to us, if I stay... I couldn't bear for you to hate me. I need you in my life, I love you so much, I can't... I can't lose you..."

Dropping her hands, Bobby stands so that he can take her fully into his arms. "What you never seem to get, Lindsay, is that I love you and that ~that~ will never change." He feels her nod and hears a muffled reply. Although he hadn't heard her words, he doesn't press her for an elaboration, instead, he allows her to take the comfort that she needs from him. Although Lindsay puts on a good show, time has taught him of her true diffident nature, he still struggles everyday to believe in this characteristic of the woman that he loves. Although he looks upon it with dubiety, he cannot deny that it is there. On the outside she appears strong and confident but he now knows that it is an act, one which she only drops around him and only when the strain of concealing it causes her armor to break. He hopes that, in time, she'll allow him in sooner, that she won't wait until she breaks before turning to him.

Eventually Lindsay pulls away, looking up at Bobby, she sighs, "I'm tired."

"Of?" he asks nervously.

She shakes her head, then says, "Of being awake. Bobby, you're right, we have unfinished business, a lot of it, but we are never going to get through it all tonight. We have a whole week ahead of us, so can we please..."

"Let's go to bed," he agrees, nodding.

Lindsay's relief is undeniable and Bobby draws her into another long embrace before they part in order to walk to the bedroom. Their usual night time synchrony is off and by the time Lindsay leaves the bathroom Bobby is asleep. She smiles at him, she doesn't admit, even to herself, that she'd hoped for this. She'd been terrified that the issue wasn't going to be let rest and had felt too fragile, too vulnerable, to say anymore. As much as she is determined to tell Bobby the whole truth, she'd found herself unable to do so tonight. She had been too unsettled for the required words to form and had found herself circling in a conversation that was saying nothing. She needs time to compose herself and her thoughts before again trying to complete this conversation. She needs her mind at it's strongest for emotional discussions, needs time to prepare what she wants to say, needs her checklist of do's and don'ts firmly in place before she's prepared to say a thing. There is too much to lose, where personal issues are concerned, to allow for an impromptu argument to arise.

~~~~~~~


Hearing Bobby shift behind her, Lindsay asks, "You awake?" When he mumbles an affirmative reply, she whispers, "Bobby, I'm cold."

Bobby shuffles over and spoons up behind her. Placing his arm around her waist and drawing her more fully against him, he asks, "Better?"

"Mmm hmm," she hums.

After a moment of silence, Bobby asks, "Were you really cold?"

"I'm much warmer now," Lindsay replies.

"That's not what I asked." He pauses, waiting for an answer, but when she makes no reply, he again asks, "Lindsay, were you cold?"

Rolling over so that she's facing him, she states fractiously, "I wanted to be held, is that what you want to hear?"

"Only if it is true," he replies defensively.

Looking at him, Lindsay sees only curiosity in his expression, and her momentary annoyance at having been caught out wanes. "I was feeling lonely," she admits, terrified as she does so; honesty, though desired is frightening. Moving back towards him, she lays her cheek against his chest, waiting with trepidation for his reaction.

Bobby's arms encircle her as he whispers, "Well, we can't have that now can we?"

Lindsay feels his lips press softly against her head and relaxes into the soothing motions of his hand as it caresses her back. She can feel his relief and pleasure that she has been honest with him. Truth be told, she had been worried about all that she'd said tonight and, in consequence, what Bobby was thinking. She'd really let her guard down and, for once, had told it like it is. Bobby had seemed to take it well, he'd made all the right comments and gestures, listened to her and even opened up, a little, himself. She'd been grateful that for once they hadn't relied too heavily on persiflage. But lying in bed, she'd begun to feel isolated. Bobby had been asleep almost before his head had hit the pillow, leaving her alone with her thoughts, alone to remember a time not so long ago when she'd spent some of the loneliest nights she's ever known in this very bed.

Lindsay had felt anxious remembering how they'd retired each night in indignant silence. Lying there and having him so near yet not touching had been too much like old times, like terrible times. She couldn't go through it again, so this time, at the first sign of his return to consciousness, she had reached out, bold faced lied while doing so, but had reached out nonetheless. Of course, Bobby had to go and call her on it, didn't he? Why couldn't he have been that insightful last time they had been here? Why hadn't he ever noticed how much he had been hurting her then?

"I'm sorry," she hears him whisper, before another soft kiss is applied to her temple.

Lindsay knows that for both their sakes the time has come to move on, there needs to be mutual forgiveness now or they'll never get past this. Rising on her elbow, she says, "I'm sorry too."

"You?" he replies, again surprised to hear it.

"Bobby!" she says a little exasperated with his insistence on taking all the blame. She kisses his cheek before laying her head beside his on the pillow, "This wasn't all you," she says, "You know that."

He looks incredulous and she shakes her head in censure at his wanting to lay the guilt solely on himself. "Yes, I was hurt by the way you acted, but Bobby, you acted that way because you were hurting and the reason for that is my behavior."

"Lindsay! No."

"Bobby, yes! And I'm not playing the blame game with you now, so, just listen." He smiles at her directive and she takes his hand as she explains her theory. "I'm not talking about my behavior when we were here, I think... I think for you that was just the catalyst, but what you were really venting against were things from the past."

He shakes his head, more in confusion then a negation of her claim.

"Bobby, I'll admit that so far it's been a difficult year for me and, by extension, it has been for you too. I know, in a way, just when you get comfortable I bring you down again."

"Lindsay..."

"I can't apologize for how I've felt, this is a journey that I needed to complete but I am sorry for the way that it's made you feel. I am sorry that you don't know how much you mean to me... that you... I never meant for you to feel that I've shut you out, that I don't need you as much as I do. I'm sorry you believe that I doubt you, I don't... I never meant to hurt you and... whether you want to accept it or not, Bobby, I am sorry."

He nods and she knows that he's accepted her apology, he may not agree with its necessity but he accepts that she needs to give it. Lindsay can tell by his terse manner that he's feeling unsettled again. She honestly hates that with each breakthrough that she makes in her own insecurities, Bobby's seem to be increased.

"Are you still on that journey?" he quietly asks.

Lindsay reaches out and smoothes the hair off of his brow, hoping that she can as easily soothe his concern, "No, Bobby, I think that starting from tonight, I'm on a new journey," she leans in closer and softly kisses him, then adds, "A much happier one, one that we can complete together."

Bobby smiles, draws her against him and kisses her again.

They both know that they've said enough for one night. Considering the change in time zone it's a wonder that they're still coherent. Had they been home in Boston, they'd be rising again in a little over two hours and yet here they are with barely a wink of sleep between them. Although neither gives it much consideration, their soft kisses soon progress to include tender touches too. With bodies too exhausted for rigorous, and minds more intent on solace than arousal, they continue along each step without fanfare. Lindsay's leg hooks over Bobby's thigh as she welcomes him in. They hold tight, softly caress and kiss as their bodies rock steadily against one another. Completion is heralded in with sighs instead of roars. This is what we should have been doing, their bodies remind them, this is what those lonely nights and broken hearts had needed, this is how we belong, this is us. Regret forgotten, they roll into slumber on the crest of their love.

*~*~*~*~*

    To be continued
Nag me