She picks the locks. Simple pin and tumbler design, she thinks to herself. She carefully opens the door. She tiptoes inside, and closes, and locks the door behind her. She slips her tools into the pocket of her pants. She tiptoes past the kitchen, through the living room, towards the bedroom. The door is wide open. She holds her breath, and tiptoes into the room.

It was easy for her. She was used to it. She had years, and years of experience. She looks at the bed, against the wall, in the dark. Another skill she had learned, seeing in the dark. These skills were very important when you were trying to be covert. When you were on a mission, trying to be undetected, it was important to carefully plan things out. She hovers near the bed. This, however, was not mission. This was real life.

She was not trying to be sneaky, or even creepy, just certain. She had to be certain, before she made her move. It wasn't as if she was going to suffocate him in his sleep. She could, he was a sound sleeper, but she did not have any ill-will towards him. She knew that he had to make her presence known. She couldn't stand in his room, surrounded by silence, and darkness, all night. This couldn't wait until morning.

It had waited long enough. It had festered inside of her, for so long, that she could no longer control it. She had a hard time controlling herself, when she was around him. Each day that past, was more unbearable than the last. It was time to end this. It was time to end this dance. Five years, they had been dancing around. Around each other, around the truth. It wasn't so bad when there were other around, others to fill up the space between them.

The problem was, there wasn't always someone between them. They were alone, together, most of the time. The weight of things unsaid, was crushing them. She could only picture what they looked like. Dancing around, on opposite sides of the room, when they should be dancing together. The truth neither of them wanted to admit was driving a wedge between them. She could feel it. He could feel it too. They were always dancing, to the same song, to the same beat.

They could just never get it right. Maybe because they had never tried. They tried so hard to ignore it. They tried to pretend everything was normal. They wouldn't admit that they weren't normal, together they were something extraordinary. It was a hard pill to swallow. It was a difficult line to cross. They had stayed behind the line for so long. They had come close to crossing it, too many times.

Now they were going opposite directions, and they both knew, it would end the same way. It would end the same way it always did. It would end. They would get their hearts broken. Then it would just be the two of them, again. The two of them, leading separate lives, when they just wanted to be together. He was right, sometimes the heart wants, what the heart wants. The harder they fought it, the more obvious it was. She was too tired to fight it anymore.

She clears her throat, "You know I could kill you in your sleep," she tells him, knowing the sound of her voice will wake him up.

"You could, but you won't."

"Not tonight."

He looks at the alarm clock, on the bedside stand, "It's 0238, what are you doing here? Better yet, how did you get in here?"

"I picked the lock."

"Do you have no boundaries?"

"I do."

"Then what are you doing, breaking into my apartment, in the middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"You could have called."

"I could have done a lot of things, but I didn't."

"Why are you here?"

"Because it was not a conversation that I wanted to have on the phone."

"You're here, now, so talk."

"My apartment is too quiet."

"It gives you too much time to think?"

"And it's empty," she adds.

"You have made your choices."

"Maybe I made the wrong ones."

"Is this you telling me that you have cold feet? Cold feet about a box full of empty promises, and a commitment, that will probably never be whole-hearted?"

"That was mean."

"That was the truth."

"As long as we're on the truth, let's talk about her."

"What about her?"

"I hate her."

"You've made that very clear."

"She's not right for you. She would have been ok, for the thirty year old version of you, but you are not thirty, anymore."

"What are you saying?"

"She will never be able to commit to you, no matter how long you wait."

"I know that."

"Then why are you with her?"

"Why are you with him? Why are you with a man, that is like the man you hate?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He's more like your father than anyone you've ever been with."

"He is not."

"He's charming, but manipulative. He talks out of both sides of his mouth. He offers you things that he knows he can't give you, to gain your trust. Just when you think that things have changed, he leaves. He promises he's coming back. He promises it's the last time. You know better, at least I hope that you do."

"You are certainly being critical, tonight."

"You're the one who showed up in my room, in the middle of the night. How long did you stand there, watching me sleep, before you woke me up?"

"Does it matter?"

"What is really on your mind? Are you ever going to tell me?"

"No, because you already know."

"But you never say it."

"I shouldn't have to."

"Neither should I."

"It does not work that way. Things will not just happen, on their own."

"I hate when you do this. I hate when you start things, and don't finish them. You never finish the things that you start."

"That isn't true. I didn't start this."

"I didn't start this," she counters.

"Someone started it."

"No, no one has started it, yet. No one will start it. We run into the line of fire, on a daily basis. We chase down monsters, every single day. We face our fears. Yet, somehow we never face this. Why is that?"

"Some things are better left unsaid."

"You cannot leave things unsaid forever."

"You can't decide to just blurt them out, one day, either."

"Something has to change. I am tired of pretending. I am tired of fighting. I am tired."

"You have to be the change you want to see in the world."

"I came to you," she points out, "I made the first move, now it is your move."

"I decline to make a move."

"This drives me crazy. Sometimes talking to you, is like talking to a wall. It is just as difficult, and even less productive."

"We should get some sleep, we have an early day tomorrow."

"With our luck it will be an early morning, and a late night."

He smiles, "With lots of coffee in between."

"I don't think you understand," she insists.

"What don't I understand?"

"Make up your mind. In, or out. Enough in between. Decide, or I am done."

"Done? Done with what?"

"Being your partner."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Where would you go? Who would be your partner?"

"McGee."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because then no one will have my back. You'll have his back, and I'll get shot."

"No, you won't."

"If someone is aiming for me, and McGee, you'll take the person aiming for McGee out first, then I'll be dead. I need you to have my back."

"That is not enough, not anymore."