A/N: I started working on this one quite a while ago and only recently realized I never finished it. I've tweeked the chapters that were already posted, and added a couple more for your entertainment...and put the seperators back in! :-D

Enjoy!

Music was blasting throughout the club, the bass pulsing through every molecule of Eric's body. He smiled, a glass in one hand and his cell phone in the other, scanning the crowd. He lifted the glass to his mouth to take a drink, but found nothing but rattling ice cubes. Glancing down at his phone, he noticed the lack of activity and decided to hit the bar for a refill.

"Whisky sour," he told the bartender, setting his glass down.

The woman next to him wrinkled up her nose. "I prefer amaretto," she grinned.

He turned to look at her. She's pretty. "Amaretto sours are kind of a girly drink," he smiled back.

"I know," she conceded with a laugh. "But promise you won't judge me based on my drink choices."

His smile grew into an amused grin. "Okay. I promise." The screen on his phone lit up, flashing a message from a nearby club-goer, and Eric's eyes darted to it.

The woman's gaze followed his, unable to read the small text on the screen, but guessing what it said by the look on his face. "Ah, I see you have other plans."

He typed a few words quickly before looking up again. "Uh, yeah, I guess I do now."

"Girlfriend?" she asked curiously. Then, backpedaling, "Not that it's any of my business."

He shook his head lightly. "Not a girlfriend," he answered good-naturedly.

"She must be important, though. You seem excited to see her."

Another message flashed on screen, and he replied to it quickly. "Actually, I don't know who she is."

"Just that she wants to hook up with you," she added, catching on. "And you don't want to know more than that."

He stopped typing and looked at the woman beside him, raising an eyebrow. "You disapprove?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Like I said," she responded nonchalantly, "it's none of my business." The bartender brought their drinks over and she lifted hers to her lips, taking a sip. "All I know is that I left my friends and family to move to Miami—I don't have anyone here, and I'd like to change that. Anonymous is the last thing I want."

"Well, you're not me," he told her, hitting the send key.

"Nope," she replied. She watched him down his drink and turn to head back out into the crowd, but grabbed his arm before he could disappear. "Hey…" She waited until his eyes met hers before continuing, "You seem like a nice guy—if you change your mind about the anonymous thing and decide you want to actually get to know someone, come find me."

He managed a small smile for her. "Yeah, okay."

She released his arm and allowed her eyes to follow him into the sea of people, unsure what it was about him that attracted her. He was, after all, just a guy looking for a quick meaningless score. And he had just blown her off to do it. But there was something about him that grabbed her interest and held it firmly.

Could be his looks, she smirked to herself. Those big brown eyes and that killer smile…yum-my!

Finishing her own drink, she knew that his appearance was only part of the equation. She just couldn't nail down the rest.

"Call it intuition, I guess," she said aloud to no one in particular. "Let's just see if he comes back."

ooo

A week later, Eric lost his badge during one of his nameless encounters, and it was used to perpetrate a crime. That was the wakeup call he needed and, with the support of his friends, he decided it was time to pay a visit to the departmental psychologist.

When his turn came, he stepped into the office and stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room.

"Have a seat," Dr. Jamison offered, gesturing to several pieces of furniture.

Eric hesitated. "Should I lie down on the couch?" he asked, only half joking.

She smiled. "If you like. And we can talk about your childhood imaginary friends, too."

Realizing he was being teased, Eric smiled back and took a seat in a comfortable chair across from the therapist. "So where should I start?"

"Well, let's start with what made you decide to come in today."

"I guess it's because I've been behaving…well, pretty recklessly." He described his habit of sleeping with women he didn't know or want to know. He told the counselor how uncharacteristic this behavior was for him, how he had never treated women that way before, how he would have never risked his own health like that. He described his colleagues' concern for him and how he pushed them away, becoming defensive when he really had no reason to. He talked about the girl at the club, too, that had shown concern for him even though he was a complete stranger to her, and how he had brushed her off like he did with everyone else.

"My best friend was killed in the line of duty a couple of months ago, and my coworkers think that my, uh, recent behavior has something to do with that."

"What do you think?" the psychologist asked.

Eric blew out a breath. "I think they might be right, and that his death might be more than I can handle alone, which is why I'm here."

"You're a smart man," she told him. "You may have figured it out a little later than you would have liked, but you've accepted the fact that you need help dealing, and a lot of people never do that."

"So what now?" he asked tentatively.

Dr. Jamison leaned back in her chair. "You need to grieve the loss of your friend," she said. "It sounds to me like you want comfort, which is why you seek these women out, but you're afraid that you'll lose anyone else who gets close to you, the way you lost your best friend. If you allow your friends to get close to you again, and allow yourself to confide in them, it would lessen the load you carry mentally and emotionally, and help you grieve."

"That sounds great, Doc," Eric shrugged. "But I don't think I can do it. I can't just walk up to the people closest to me and say 'hey, you wanna talk about Speed's death?' It doesn't work that way."

She nodded. "It is hard to talk to people you know. The better you know them, the harder it is sometimes to open up to them." She made some notes on the pad of paper in her lap and thought for a moment. "So start with something simple…a topic that's comfortable, or a person you don't know as well. What about that girl you talked to at the club?"

He eyed the doctor, wondering where she was going. "What about her?"

"You said you were attracted to this woman, right?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Then follow up on that," she instructed. "Find her, get to know her. It'll get you in the right frame of mind to patch things up with your close friends, give you a little practice trusting people again."

"You want me to use her as a guinea pig?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course not," the psychologist corrected. "Think of it this way: if things work out with this girl from the club, then at the very least you have a new friend, someone else to open up to. If it doesn't work out and you two don't become close, then at least you've taken a step in the healing process, and you'll be in better shape to repair your current relationships."

He mulled that over for a few minutes. "I might be able to do that," he decided. "I normally would have asked her out anyway…"

"Good," she smiled. "Give it a try and see how things go. I want to see you back here in a week or two, and I want to hear all about her."

Eric smiled. "My homework is to date a pretty girl," he chuckled. "If I'd have known that before, I would have come in sooner."

Dr. Jamison returned his smile. "Just take it slow," she cautioned, walking him to the door. "Don't force anything…let things happen naturally."

"Okay," he replied. "Thanks for the advice."

The therapist patted him on the shoulder. "Good luck."

ooo

Every night for a week Eric showered and changed his clothes after work, heading out to the same club where he had met the amaretto sour girl. He would dance a little and try to have a good time, but kept his eyes peeled looking for her.

Sunday night he struck gold. She came in a few minutes after he did and made her way to the bar, dancing in rhythm with the music as she moved. He smiled and wove his way through the crowd toward her.

"Amaretto sour," she told the bartender just as Eric reached her.

He leaned against the bar. "I prefer whisky," he remarked, flashing her a grin.

Recognizing his voice and, when she turned, his face, she laughed. "Hey! I was wondering if I was ever going to see you again."

He lowered his head a little and replied, "Well, I figured I'd better find you because I owe you an apology."

"For what?" she asked.

"For blowing you off," he told her.

She waived a hand at him dismissively. "People blow people off in bars all the time," she reminded him. "It's no big deal."

"It is," he insisted. "You were trying to be nice to me, and all I was interested in was doing something stupid."

"And how did that go?"

He sighed. "I said it was stupid, right? Let's just say I've learned my lesson."

Her drink arrived and she took a sip. "So now what?"

"Well, I was thinking that you and I might hang out a little…if your offer is still good."

"My offer to get to know each other?" she smiled. "Yeah, it's still good."

He straightened up and extended his hand to her, returning her smile. "My name is Eric."

She grinned, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "I'm Shauna."