Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only my ideas for them!

After closing her front door, Jaimie leaned against it and closed her eyes. She couldn't help feeling bad. He'd wanted to talk. They'd done a lot over the last 3 weeks or so, but talking wasn't one of them. They were both good with that. It suited them. At least, it suited her. Not talking meant they didn't have to complicate things with stuff like emotions or having to answer to each other outside of work. She was pretty sure it suited him, too, since he'd made no effort to get to know her better outside of the bedroom. Now he wanted to change things on her and she was left wondering why. Why now? Why her? Why not Ty or Carter? For some reason, the automatic excuse that came to her, that they wouldn't screw him after a good old-fashioned heart-to-heart, didn't satisfy her.

Opening her dark eyes, she turned her head, looking through the shelves at the blanketed form that slowly rose and fell on her bed. Scott was out and would stay out until the alarm goes off at five-thirty. Dependable Scott always did. If she played her cards right, he would give her everything she's always wanted. A nice, stable home; kids playing in a yard that was surrounded by a white picket fence.... She had the 'no worrying about money' part down already. She had a steady job and lived within her means, which was especially easy to do since her personal life had all but evaporated since she started working for Carter. She had to remember she had a good thing going here. She should get back into bed and forget about Dean. He was a big boy and that meant she should put herself first and not worry about him. It wasn't convenient for her to take a stab at being considerate right now.

Decision made, Jaimie pushed away from the door, sighing as she raised her hands to run her fingers through her blond hair, which hung loosely about her shoulders. She stood there for a few minutes, waiting for the tension to seep out of her shoulders. When it didn't, she muttered, "Oh, screw it," and went into the bathroom for a quick shower. She dressed just as quickly in a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a leather jacket. She would go to Dean's apartment, hear him out, and be back in an hour tops because she wasn't going to sleep with him. Casting a glance Scott's way as she slid her feet into a pair of boots, she silently reminded herself that, not only had she made her choice, but there was no choice to be made. He could give her everything she wanted. If she expected him to make her dreams come true, the least she owed him was her fidelity…even if Dean was better in bed. Right? That's what Jaimie Allen would do, and Jaime Allen was who she was now.

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Frustrated with himself, Dean asked himself, again, what he was thinking asking telling Jaimie he wanted to talk. He knew he'd probably spooked her. She probably thought he was about to go all freaky on her and profess his love for her. The very thought of it made him scoff as he pulled a cold bottle of beer out of the fridge and popped it open. He liked her. If asked, he would admit that, but love? He didn't even know her, so how could he love her? Plus, for all he knew, everything that came out of her mouth was as much of a lie as the life she'd built for herself. You can't love someone you can't trust, and he wasn't sure how much he did trust her…which begged the question of what prompted him go to Jaimie to talk tonight. He needed to unwind, but he could have driven out to Pasadena, talked to Ty, crashed at his place, then eaten his food when he got up.

Hearing somebody pounding at his door, Dean set down his beer and picked up his gun. He didn't need to check the time. He knew it was around midnight. The only people who wouldn't care about how late it was to be paying someone a visit were people who didn't want a witness to that visit. At the same time, those people generally didn't knock. He leaned against the wall beside the door, squeezing one eye shut, and looked through the peephole. Despite his surprise, Dean relaxed at the sight of Jaimie standing there in the hall, waiting impatiently for him to let her into his apartment. Wondering why she'd followed him home, he unbolted the deadbolt and opened the door. "Come in," he said, stepping aside to let her walk past him into his sparsely decorated apartment. "I thought you had a guest to entertain," he remarked with a tight smile as he pushed the door closed.

Jaimie faced him, folding her arms in front of herself in an instinctively defensive gesture. What she was defending herself from was unclear, even to her. "I told you, Scott's sleeping," she snapped. A contrite expression instantly overtook her pretty features. "I'm sorry. Look, I just…you said you wanted to talk and I want to listen…if you still want to talk, I mean."

Dean stood right where he was, in front of the door, for a long moment as he stared at her, considering her offer. Did he still want to talk to her? He wasn't sure if he did. Scott's presence at her place and the knowledge that he and Jaimie were back together didn't exactly increase his desire to do so, yet the fact that Jaimie was there meant something to him. She cared enough to leave her boyfriend in the middle of the night to come check on him. "Yeah, okay. You want a beer?" he offered, moving away from the door towards the kitchen area. He laid the gun down on the counter as he walked around it.

Jaimie nodded. "Sure, why not?" Even as she said it, she realized that the tension was seeping out of her neck and shoulders on its own, and that she didn't need the liquid help. She still took the bottle when he handed it out for her. Seeing that he'd already opened it for her, she murmured, "Thanks," and took a sip. She ran her tongue over her lower lip to capture the stray drops as she climbed up onto one of the stools at the counter. "So, what did you want?" she prompted.

Dean remained standing, but leaned his hip against the counter. She watched as he picked up an open bottle and took a long swig of it, wondering what was going on in that head of his. His eyes were so impenetrable and his face was blank, the combination shielding his thoughts and feelings from her. She was beginning to wonder if this was an intentional attempt to ensure she didn't figure out his attempt to kill himself by drowning himself with beer when he finally lowered the bottle. After wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, he said, "You know, I was a boy scout."

Jaimie's eyes widened with surprise. "I'm sorry, what?" She wasn't sure what she'd expected when she came over, but this was so off her radar that she couldn't cover the fact that he'd thrown her for a loop.

"A boy scout... You know, camping, survival skills, raffle tickets… Right up until I was thirteen."

Jaimie smiled tentatively. "Sorry, but I can't really see you in a uniform. I know, weird because I know you're a cop…but I have trouble seeing you like that sometimes."

Dean gave her one of those cryptic looks of his before lowering his gaze towards his bottle and asking quietly. "Well how do you see me?"

She didn't have to think twice about it. "I see you as someone who does whatever it takes to do what needs to be done, someone who doesn't settle."

"Settle?" he queried, looking up at her.

Jaimie nodded. "Yeah. You don't settle for anything less than your own expectations and you don't settle down. You're like a premature version of Carter."

"Premature, huh? How do you figure that?" Dean asked as he went over to the refrigerator for another beer.

"Well, Carter told me he was married…No, thanks," she broke off when Dean held up a fresh bottle in an offering manner. "Anyway, I don't see anyone marrying him with him being the way he is now. It's like he's constantly undercover. He doesn't just blend in with the crowd, but with the living."

"And that's how you see me?"

Jaimie stared at him for a minute, trying to scrutinize his face to no avail. "I think you toe the line," she answered. She glanced around at her surroundings, noting how lifeless they were. There were no clues as to who lived here. It reminded her of home in a way. She'd put more effort into her apartment to try and keep up with appearances, but, in reality, it was just as empty. She wondered, not for the first time, whether it was always this way. She looked back at him. "Am I wrong?"

Dean shrugged, taking the few steps necessary for him to lean forward against the counter, right across from her. "Why are you here, Jaimie?" he asked, staring into her eyes.

"You said you wanted to talk," she replied, meeting his gaze head on.

"So you left your boyfriend sleeping in your bed…just to come over here and talk to me?"

Jaimie blinked, and then she lowered her gaze. "Yeah. You gonna to make a big deal out of it?"

"No, just wondering why you did it. So you just came to talk?"

Jaimie raised her gaze again, huffing slightly. "Yes."

"Sure about that?"

"No," she admitted roughly, leaning forward across the counter and reaching out with one hand to grab his shirt and tug him closer so she could press her lips against his. He responded quickly, pulling her across the counter without breaking their kiss so that she was sitting on his side of it and he was standing between her legs. This was wrong, she knew it, but, at the same time, she didn't really care. She could tell herself she did, but she really didn't. She reached down and unfastened his jeans as he did the same to hers.

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The hour stretched into several, but it was still dark out when Jaimie quietly slipped into her apartment. She glanced at Scott and found him the way she left him, sleeping in bed. She waited for her conscience to attack her, and was disappointed when it didn't. She bent down and pulled off her boots, then proceeded to undress herself. After tossing on one of the too-big-for-her shirts Scott had left there, she slid into bed, lying on her side, facing away from Scott. As she waited for sleep to claim her, she felt Scott shift closer and toss an arm around her. She didn't welcome the contact, but she didn't try to scoot out of reach or move his arm because she didn't want to wake him.

Scott stared at the back of Jaimie's head through half-closed eyes. He'd felt the way she stiffened at his touch and wondered at it the same way he'd wondered at her absence. Instead of coming back to bed after getting rid of whoever was at the door, she'd left. Who was at the door? Where did she go tonight? He loved her. He didn't want to doubt her, but she made it hard for him sometimes, like now. It wasn't always this way, just since the last few months. Whatever was going on with her, he had no intention of losing her.

A/N: So, what do you guys think? I just watched all the episodes of Dark Blue this past week and I am so hooked! I was also feeling uber inspired to write something for it. This was primarily a 'set up' chapter. It might have piggybacked off of K-Town, but all that follows will come from me, so I will be thinking up any missions that are to come.