Here's a story I started working on around the same time as First Time. It was suppose to be a one shot, but has turned into a multi-chapter story. Your reviews are always welcomed, but not required. Enjoy!

Catherine couldn't sleep. The room felt too hot when she had the blanket on and too cold when it wasn't. The pillows didn't feel plump enough and the bed just felt too damn large. She could swear there were lumps in the mattress where there hadn't been any the previous night.

She let out a frustrated sigh, knowing sleep was not happening tonight. At least not without Vincent. They'd only been together for two months, but her bed already felt empty without him beside her. Everything felt wrong when he wasn't with her. How could she manage to sleep without his strong arms wrapped around her? Without her nose pressed to his neck so that she cold breathe in the wonderful scent that was all his?

"Dammit," she groaned. Why did she tell him she needed a full night's sleep? Sure she had a major case right now and a few hours sleep were desperately needed. But her mind and body refused to relax without him beside her.

Vincent lay in his bed, unable to relax. His sheets were a wrinkled mess around him; his pillows thrown to the floor. Cat's scent was all over his sheets. Each time his mind began to relax, her scent would invade his senses. He'd wake up for a moment, reaching for her. But then the sleep fog he was in would dissipate and he'd realize she wasn't there.

He promised Cat one night away so that she could regroup while working on a grueling case. Two months of having her in his arms every night made him feel lonelier than he ever had before. He was fighting the urge to go to her. The beast in him wanted to run to her and breathe her in. He wanted her legs tangled with his, her long hair spread across his chest, her light snores in his ears. He just wanted her with him always.

Deciding a few rounds with the boxing bag would help ease some of his frustrations and tire him out, Vincent quickly jumped out of bed. He grabbed the jeans he wore earlier from the floor. He slid them on but didn't bother zipping or buttoning them. Before starting with the boxing bag, he dropped down and started doing push ups. The slither of moonlight coming through the windows made the muscles in his arms and back gleam. A slight sheen broke out along his back and chest as he reached one hundred push ups.

Jumping up, he walked over to the boxing bag and started punching. Maybe after two hundred hits he'd be so exhausted that sleep would claim him.

Catherine finally gave up trying to sleep at midnight. Throwing her blanket off, she slid out of bed and walked into the kitchen. There had to be something in here that could help her sleep. She remembered reading somewhere that drinking warm milk can help a person sleep. If she didn't have such an instant feeling of revulsion at the thought, she'd give it a try. Alcohol could knock her out, but getting up may be a problem.

Standing in front of the open refrigerator, Catherine did a quick inventory of the items inside. Milk. Chicken. Eggs. A green pepper. Nothing to induce sleep. Shutting the refrigerator door, she admitted defeat. She groaned and thumped her head against the door.

The only way she was going to get any sleep was with Vincent's arms wrapped around her. Warm milk, soothing baths and counting sheep weren't going to do the trick. She needed him. She needed the closeness. She needed the comfort his nearness gave her. When she woke up in the morning, she wanted to feel his lips pressed against her neck and the roughness of his stubble against her mouth. Her whole day was going to be screwed if she didn't go to him.

Grabbing her keys, she headed out, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas.

Vincent was in the shower, washing away the sweat, when he heard a car outside. He automatically shut the shower off and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. No one should be here at this time of night. He had no desire to be caught unaware in just a towel.

Hi listened intently, keeping quiet. He didn't want to alert a random passerby that someone lived here. However, if someone was out there to harm him and JT, he would be ready. He walked over to his bed and grabbed a pair of jeans. He slid them on, zipping them. He was dragging out a white t-shirt when he heard a damn from outside.

Cat!

Catherine was here. He dropped the shirt he was preparing to put on and ran out the door. What was she doing here at this time of night? Was she hurt?

He flew down the steps and slammed out of the front door.