This story was written part as the ItCHY stories for Steele86.

Alternate aftermath to Steele of Approval.

As always, I do not own these characters. I simply borrow them because I love them.

Chapter 1

Laura sat in the Rabbit, side of her head resting on the steering wheel, staring at the building before her.

The Rossmore.

Despite having been born and raised in the city of Los Angeles, if only three short years ago someone had asked her the name of the building, she'd have been unable to say. The neighborhood was hardly one she'd haunted in the past either professionally or personally. Apartment and condominium buildings catering to the successful professional lined one side of the street while Hancock Park abutted the other side, providing residents of these costly residences unfettered view of not only the park, but the Los Angeles skyline, as well, from top floors. While she'd dated some affluential men, they had favored the high rises located in the middle of the city, buildings which tended to be convenient to their work and offered many amenities. The Rossmore was not about convenience, but personal style.

Three years ago, she hadn't even known it existed, but in the three years since?

The bittersweet memories of her time spent with the man who lived in the building assailed her.

Quiet evenings spent leaning against the rails of the balcony, staring out at the skyscape, laughter frequently flowing between them. Romantic nights, laying before the fireplace, glasses of champagne in hand, conversing in soft voices. Seductive evenings, dancing in his living room, sharing tantalizing kisses, fleeting touches, but never anything more than that. Comfortable, lazy afternoons, he sitting with feet propped on the coffee table, she laying with her head on his lap, his fingers toying with her hair, as they watched a double feature of his beloved movies together.

It was within those walls, with him, that she'd sought solace after her home had been destroyed, when she'd felt as though her entire world had imploded. He'd… taken care of her, that was the only phrase for it, with a gentleness she'd come to know was part of his nature, not divined for the purpose of seduction. Then, on that first night, as the rain pattered against the windows and the skies lit for lightening, she'd offered herself to him.

"Tonight, if you asked me, I don't think I could say no."

"Tonight… I don't think I could ask."

She'd been left initially feeling bereft when he'd turned her down, but as the sun had rose on the new day and her grief had briefly lost its razor-sharp edge, she'd recognize his refusal for what it was: the most poignant moment of her life. He'd been waiting for more than a year for them to turn that corner, cross that line. Most men would have taken advantage of her moment of vulnerability, either believing they were offering her comfort of a kind or would have been simply content to allow her to deal with the myriad of regrets which would have followed on the morning after. His refusal had underscored the innate… decency… she'd realized very early in their association was core to who he was.

It was within those walls that she'd experienced her first irrational, inexplicable bout of jealousy when it came to this man, as Felicia had slinked out of his bedroom draped in one of his dressing gowns. And it was within those walls that only a week later, he'd first displayed his own streak of jealousy where she was concerned, as she'd arrived at his apartment with Creighton Phillips in tow. They'd made up as often as they'd fought within those walls.

It was within those walls that she'd conducted the longest romance she'd ever had with a man. It was within those walls that he'd most often shared pieces of himself, his past, at times mistakenly having let his guard down for too long while at other times he dared to let her past all walls he'd erected around himself, entrusting her to keep those pieces of himself safe. It was from there that she'd fled countless times, when kisses and gentle caresses, even in the most innocent of places, left her burning with need and she'd find herself panicking over the cost to her heart should they cross that line.

And it was within those walls that she'd left him only hours before sitting on the couch, confused, shocked… defeated.

"Is that piece of paper the only thing that's keeping us together? Do we really have anything else in common besides this agency?"

"Laura, if you're talking about my allergy to legwork—"

"No, it's got nothing to do with that. Don't you see? I mean, losing our license may be the very best thing that ever happened to us. Maybe it'll give us time to think about how we really feel towards each other, outside of work. All we've ever done is play trial-and-error with our personal relationship, as we try to squeeze it into our professional one."

"Are you saying it hasn't worked?"

"Are you saying it has?"

"Well perhaps not consistently, but—"

"All I'm suggesting is that maybe we take some time, think about it for a while. That's all."

She'd been unable to stand the stark hurt reflected in his eyes, departing as soon as she'd said her peace, leaving him still sitting in the couch as if rendered unable to move beneath the weight of it all.

She'd been angry with him. She'd believed he'd let her down yet again, and the cost had been the Agency. Her life's work… gone.

He was everything William Westfield was not: irresponsible, impulsive, reckless, lacking a work ethic, rarely serious, forever living his life on a wing and a prayer. He was everything she had once been but could no longer afford to be.

He had made William… make sense. William was… the logical… the rational decision. William was exactly who she'd fought to become.

But the heart was neither logical nor rational she'd realized, when she'd taken her seat on the plane next to William. Hers had simply… broken… because the man seated next to her was simply… wrong. He didn't make her pulse race the first time she'd seen him after only a few hours apart. When his hand glanced against hers, she wasn't left a little bit breathless. When he looked at her, his eyes didn't sparkle with the amused appreciation that could leave her nerves aflutter. His scent didn't make her knees go a little bit weak or make her fingers flex, wanting nothing more than to touch him.

He wasn't him. And in the end, that was all her heart had cared about.

Which is what had made her get off that plane, return to this building, prepared to enter those walls.

Turning her head and pressing her forehead against the steering wheel, she drew in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. Then with a sharp nod of her head, as though giving herself permission, she climbed out of the Rabbit slinging purse and carry-on bag over her shoulder, the words she'd said to him replaying in her mind for the hundredth time on the evening. Indicting her. For they had been a lie.

"All we've ever done is play trial-and-error with our personal relationship, as we try to squeeze it into our professional one."

It had never been a matter of trying to squeeze their personal relationship into their professional one. It had always been a matter of fearing what came next. It had always been a matter taking the risk, daring to believe that the next step would be the beginning of something new, something richer, not an end.

They'd been frozen in place for too long.

It was time to dig deep, find a little of the Laura Holt who'd once been daring, before she'd learned to be afraid.

Resolved, she stepped out of the elevator on the fifth floor, taking a deep breath as she stopped in front of apartment A. Depressing the buzzer, she rested her forehead against the doorframe and waited for him to answer the door.