The thump on Elliot's door, which had first been so alarming, became, by it's frequency during the past weeks, a rather tiresome and expected occurence.

"Liv. You're a mess." He looked at the intoxicated detective--hair mussed, blouse buttoned crookedly--sprawling across his front porch. Since Alex's "death" she couldn't seem to let him alone, appearing at his house at all hours like a lost puppy that has found it's way home. He guessed the bond of truth between them seemed to her an intangible link to Alex.

"Hey, El," she slurred.

He shook his head. "If i see you on my door step one more time I'm going to have to start charging you rent."

She smiled drunkenly. She knew he didn't mean it.