I'm suffering. There's not enough Brass going on. My Brass magnum opus is still in the works but not nearly ready for posting, and this popped into my head. What can I say, I had this dream...

She woke soaked and breathing heavily. As she forced her heart to slow, she collected her thoughts, trying to remember her dream. She could still feel his hands on her, his warm breath making her tingle. And she ached for him…was wet and ready. "My god," she exhaled as she lay in her bed alone. She closed her eyes and tried to bring his image into her mind, but she couldn't. Who was this very hot man of her dreams, she wondered.

Her thoughts lingered on her dream as she showered. Her hands moved sensually over her body as she tried to remember. Her eyes closed as her hands moved down her torso, sexual tension knotting as she imagined that they were his hands. If only she knew who it was creating this desire in her…

Once she made it to the lab, her mind was on work. After finishing a quarterly report that was already three days late, she was called to one of the seedy motels that dotted the city and was met by Lou Vartann. "Catherine," he greeted her ambiguously.

Catherine nodded at him, equally vague. "So what we got?" she asked.

As he launched into an explanation of the crime scene and the vic, she briefly wondered if he was the man in her dreams. But she quickly dismissed the idea because she knew the feel of his hands and knew the man of her dreams was definitely not him. Lou's touch was always a little possessive, unlike Mr. Dreamy. Closing her mind to the thought, she turned her attention back to the scene.

By the end of her shift, they had a suspect; it had been an easy case and she left the interrogation room confident of a conviction. As she turned the corner in the hallway, she barely missed bumping into Jim Brass. Stepping back, she mumbled an apology for nearly running him over and stopped when she looked at his face. Things had been tense between them since their argument last year. His sadness over the situation showed in his expression.

She knew she'd continued it longer than necessary, the fight. She'd gone over his head and pulled strings to get what she wanted, what she thought was right. And in the end, he'd been right… for the most part. He'd tried to talk to her after they'd had time to simmer down, but she'd brushed him off. Since then, they worked together okay, but the old feelings of friendship and camaraderie were gone. And she regretted it.

She watched as he started to say something to her and then shrugged. "Good night, Catherine," he finally said as he moved to go around her. She turned and watched him as he walked away and her heart plummeted. She really needed to find a way to talk to him, to get back some of their friendship.

Once she was asleep, the dream returned. He was over her enveloping her in his warmth, his hands touching her lovingly. She felt herself arching towards him, needing him, wanting him. "Fuck me," she moaned, "now…" She felt him at her opening and arched to him more. And then she woke up, crying in frustration. Who was this man of her dreams?

That night as she surveyed the latest crime scene, gunfire broke out. Jim was standing nearby and tackled her to the ground as soon as he heard the first spurt from the automatic weapon. "He's on the roof," she heard Jim yell to Mitch, the uniformed officer with them. Jim continued to cover her but she felt his weight shift as he pulled his weapon. She could see him in her mind's eye as he surveyed the area, looking for the shooter.

Another spurt of gunfire helped Jim and Mitch locate the shooter and as the next burst began Jim and Mitch exchanged shots with the shooter and it was over. Jim lifted himself off of her, apologizing awkwardly for knocking her to the ground. "Hope I didn't squish you," he said sheepishly. He was wearing the patently Jim Brass look of protectiveness, the one he reserved for his people. Jim had two categories under the heading of his people; there were the cops that worked for him, who were professionally his and there were the people he cared about, who he looked at as his personally. He was looking at her with the expression that told her that he still considered her as part of both, in spite of the last year.

Still surprised by the events, Catherine shook her head that he hadn't. "No, you didn't…thank you," said as she brushed off. Feeling him still next to her, she looked up, catching an odd glimmer in his eyes. Then with a smirk, he reached up and pulled some dried grass from her hair. Her eyes widened as his fingers brushed through her hair, his touch creating feelings that she was unaccustomed to from him. Shifting her gaze to his face, she realized just how much she had missed him since their fight. "Jim…I…"

"Hey Jim," Mitch called out to his captain. Jim turned towards the officer and Catherine realized the moment was lost. A feeling of loss stayed with her the rest of the night.

She was dreaming again. This time he was closer than ever. His chest hair ticked her breasts and he was nuzzling her neck, whispering to her. She could feel the pressure of him at her opening, his tip just beginning to enter her….

The ringing of her phone woke her, sweaty and panting. Still clearing her mind she answered, half expecting it to be the lab calling her in. It was a surprise to hear Jim's voice on the other end. "I know you're probably asleep," he said apologetically. "I was too…but I dreamed…well, I just needed to hear that you are okay. I know Vartann is probably there taking care of you and all, but…"

"I'm fine, Jim," she said with a frown. Why did he think Lou was there? She and Lou hadn't been together for months, not since he'd gotten so worked up over things that she considered her business. They'd almost gotten back together after they were blown up a couple of weeks ago but whatever had drawn them together the first time just hadn't been there. So yeah, she was sleeping alone. "You were dreaming…. About me?" Her mind was still fuzzy from sleep and her own dream. Things weren't making sense.

"Yeah…I kept hearing shots and…I didn't make to you in time," he said softly, his voice giving away his upset.

"Oh," was all she could say as the enormity of it hit her. "I'm fine Jim, really. Remember, none of the shots hit me. And besides…you were covering me… protecting me with your body. In fact, Jim Brass…. I thought we had an agreement after you were shot a few years back. You weren't going to get hurt like that again." Her voice sounded edgy, she knew. But between his concern for her and the memory of their friendship back then, she was feeling very emotional.

His chuckle at the other end of the line warmed her. "Yeah, I did promise didn't I? Well, I'm just glad you're okay…and thanks for talking to me. Now maybe I can get some sleep…and I'll let you get back to yours too."

He was thanking her for talking to him? Since when did he do that; feel the need to do that? "Wait a minute," she practically yelled into the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Now that you woke me up, you owe me," she said lightly.

The silence at the other end scared her a little. "I do?" he asked finally.

"Yeah…breakfast…or lunch; whatever time of day it is…"

"But what about Vartann? Wouldn't you rather…"

"Why do you keep mentioning Lou?

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a detective if I hadn't seen what was going on between the two of you… Seriously Catherine, you think you two were hiding it?"

"Noooo..but…Jim, you'd better polish those detective skills a little… we're over. I think he was expecting something that …" Why was she telling him this? It wasn't his business, was it? "Well, let's just say we were looking for different things."

"Oh," was his only response. Then after a heavy silence, he cleared his throat. "So…late lunch maybe?"

She heard the hesitation in his voice, knew he wasn't sure that he wanted to do this. Her instinct was to let it go but something spurred her and she said yes. "I can be ready in less than an hour…"

He was there in forty five minutes. Several things struck Catherine as she opened the door to him. First, he had obviously showered and shaved after they hung up. He was wearing a snug blue/gray polo and jeans, a look she wasn't used to with him. Usually she saw him in suits or maybe slacks and a shirt, but never quite so casual. As she eyed him, all she could think was how good casual looked on him. His collar was open, wisps of his bushy chest hair peeking out tauntingly. And as her eyes made their way to his face, she was surprised by the shyness she saw there. Jim Brass was not shy; it just wasn't possible, she thought. The man definitely fit the name. But as he stood there on her front porch his expression was decidedly bashful.

A smile crept into his expression. "You ready?" he asked.

She smiled back at him. "Sure, let me just grab my…" she turned to snatch her purse from a table in her foyer, "bag." Then she stopped as she looked up at him again. Damn he looked good in that shirt, she thought. Then stepping out, she closed and locked her door and then followed him to his car.

"So where you wanna eat" he asked as they settled in.

"You choose," she said, laying her head against the headrest. She could feel the odd look Jim was giving her, even though her eyes were closed.

She felt the car stop and knew they had arrived when she heard the click of him turning off the ignition. "Wanna go in or are you just gonna take a nap," she heard him ask lightly.

Turning her head toward him, she opened one eye. He was smirking at her. "Mmm, not sure yet," she answered. Then opening both eyes, it occurred to her again how good he looked in his casual attire. The steel blue shirt set off his eyes and gave color to his complexion. Watching as he got out and walked around to her door to open it, she laughed inwardly at where her mind was going. All sixty year old men should look so good in jeans, she thought.

The conversation was light as they ate, almost like the old days. But she sensed awkwardness from Jim, like he was holding her at arms length. She decided she needed to do something about that. "Jim…this…thing," she motioned with her hand as she spoke, "between us…I um….well, I'm sorry."

He looked across the table at her warily. "Catherine?"

She couldn't read him, couldn't tell if he was playing dumb or he really didn't know what she was talking about. Of course he knew, she told herself. So what game was he playing? "Since I made that call, to bring Nate Haskell to Vegas, it's been … well, it just hasn't been the same between us."

Jim sighed as he waved off the waitress that was about to pour him another cup of coffee. Catherine watched as his jaw tensed and then relaxed. His eyes rolled around the table, as he formulated his response. "I thought I could trust you, Catherine. I need to be able to trust the people I work with. If you'd talked to me before…if you'd given me a chance to explain all the reasons it was a bad idea…" He sighed again. "But you just went ahead and made the call. My guess is that you knew what I'd say, what I'd think of the idea. You didn't care…you and Ray had to do it your way and he paid the price. And seeing how things turned out, other people are paying too."

Catherine's stomach churned as he mentioned the way things turned out. Haskell had used his trial as a means of escape. "Yeah, I know…he's in the wind and people died for it….will die for it."

"Look, I'm not trying to lay a guilt trip on you; we all make mistakes and some turn out worse than others. But… this is the kind of thing I would have warned you about…that he would use it to his advantage. I can't cover you if you're gonna go behind my back…or over my head."

"I just thought…I knew we were right; that bringing Haskell here would help the case…and it did."

Jim snorted. "Yeah, maybe. But at what cost?" He paused and looked across the table at her. Then something in his demeanor relaxed. "Look, that's all past. Thing is, I need to know I can trust you and right now…I'm not so sure."

His words hurt…stung deep. But she knew he was right. She did know he'd be against it and so she went over his head. And to make matters worse, she'd been vindictive after and although it hadn't played out exactly like Jim predicted, he'd been right that it would go bad. Catherine didn't like being wrong and she'd lashed out at Jim on several occasions. He'd been her target because he knew better than anyone how badly she'd screwed up. She swallowed roughly and then took a deep breath. Then looking up, across the table into his probing blue eyes, she let the breath out. "I'm sorry. I know I screwed up and …and for awhile, somehow I blamed you. I'm not sure why I acted the way I did, except…" she shrugged, "I've always been able to count on you and…maybe I counted on you too much." She looked down at her hands, tears slipping out of her eyes as she tried to decide what to say next. She was surprised when he reached across and covered her hands with one of his own.

"Hey, you can still count on me…but I have to know I can count on you too," he said softly, his voice laced with emotion.

Nodding that she understood, she fought to contain the barrage of emotions that were overwhelming her. Then finally, when she thought she could speak, she looked up into his face, into his watery eyes. "I've missed you, you know," she said with a weak smile.

The drive back to her house was quiet, each wondering where things would go from here. Jim had hoped all along that they would somehow get back on track; she was after all, one of his favorite CSIs. Catherine was replaying their conversation, hurt that he couldn't trust her but accepting that the blame was hers. She felt terrible. But she also felt hope because he seemed to forgive her…he had said we all make mistakes. Typical Jim Brass, she thought, that he wasn't angry that she screwed up but was angry that she had done so in a way that he couldn't cover for her… help her.

Frowning as her thoughts followed that new twist, she turned to look at him, studying his profile. His jaw was set and firm, with the usual Brass confidence. A thought tickled through her brain that he had a Roman profile and she smiled inwardly at the thought of him in a toga. Somehow in her mind's eye, he was suddenly John Belushi running through a frat house in a toga yelling "toga party."

Her light chuckle caught his attention and he stole a glance over at her. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing… just thinking," she answered.

He grimaced. "Okay, what gives…no fair holding back."

"Okay, okay…just…well, I had this thought that you kind of have a …"

"What?" he said impatiently.

"…Roman profile. And that led to a mental picture of you as John Belushi in Animal House…" Jim smirked. "…in a toga," she finished.

Jim chuckled. "A toga, huh? That's um…scary."

Seeing an opportunity, Catherine continued the conversation. "So were you in a fraternity in college?"

Jim shook his head. "No, I was just back from 'Nam and was just trying to get through school… get on with life. Besides, I got married after a couple of years and that doesn't really fit with fraternity life…at least not what I saw of it."

Catherine looked at him, trying to picture a much younger Jim Brass. "What?" he asked, mildly miffed.

"Nothing, just trying to picture you back then…I'll bet you were something…"

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, I was something alright…" he said with a tinge of regret in his tone. He pulled into her drive and stopped.

Eyeing him, Catherine knew she'd plucked a tender string in him with the probe into his past. "Wanna come in for coffee?" she asked, hoping she could turn his thoughts away.

He smiled at her. "No, thanks but I'd better get home." Sadness overwhelmed her as she climbed out of the car and walked away.

The end is written but I'm curious to see how you guys think this should go. So drop me a comment or two and tell me how you see it ending.