Apart

C.J. Parsons knew what she had to do. Between the help of her therapist and a lot of soul-searching, she had come to one of the biggest decisions of her life. How did she feel about it? Well, frankly, she hated it.

She had been seeing her therapist Marguerite for about five months. It all started when her best friend and business partner Matt Houston suggested she'd see someone to help her deal with all she had been through in a short span of time: a broken engagement with a man who turned out to be a murderer, a serious gunshot wound, and a rather uncomfortable couple of days mistaken for a prostitute after suffering amnesia. At first the visits dealt solely with her post-traumatic stress concerns. They were an accepted part of her private investigator job, and Houston Inc. was footing 100% of the bill, so she dutifully obeyed the weekly regimen. They talked about everything from coping mechanisms, to her upbringing, to her relationships. So naturally, some of the sessions led to discussions about Matt. Actually, a lot of the sessions led to discussions about Matt. No matter what they would be talking about, all roads led back to him, to the point where even C.J. was getting weary of the subject.

Matt was more than her co-worker and friend. He was family. They had known each other since they were kids, been thick as thieves, could read each other's minds and finish each other's sentences. Her B personality was the perfect compliment to his A personality. Ying and yang, bread and butter, Butch and Sundance. But, sadly, Matt didn't see past their friendship.

They analyzed to death all the reasons he could be avoiding a romantic relationship with her and came up with only one answer: because he didn't have to. Oh he was the nicest, kindest friend in the world but it was as if he kept C.J. tucked away in some special corner of his life, always doting and attentive when she was hurt or when he needed her sharp investigator skills, but able to retreat whenever he wanted to avoid something deep. After all, relationships were difficult and oftentimes led to severe consequences. Every day they encountered dangerous situations as evident when a few weeks week prior Matt had saved her from certain death.

A car bomb had been planted in her convertible and just as she was about to open the door, he bolted from out of nowhere, grabbed her, and raced her to safety. Just before the ensuing explosions sent flames hundreds of feet into the air, he dropped her to the ground, protecting her from flying debris with his body as much as he could. He'd rather have every bone broken in his body before she endured so much as a scratch. When it was safe, he removed himself and looked her over, asking her if she was all right. She nodded and said she'd answer him once her heartbeat returned to normal. He took her witty comeback as a good sign and helped her to her feet as she brushed the dirt off her clothes. It was right there and then she thought he'd kiss her. Not one of those quick little pecks he'd often teased her with, but one of those heart-stopping, pulse throbbing, mouth-locking kisses. But the only thing he locked were his eyes. He might have stood there gazing at her all night, trying to decide whether or not to kiss her, if it weren't for Uncle Roy running up to them and asking if they were all right.

He offered to drive her home and she accepted - after all, she was without wheels. The car ride was quiet, though, and the tension could be cut with a knife - tension that seemed to culminate from something that happened a month prior. Ever since that night things had been awkward between them so C.J. thought a few days apart from him was due. She was in need of a vacation anyway with all the overtime she'd been putting in. The idea seemed quickly validated until karma kicked in and she came smack dab in the face with having to ask for Matt's help with a murder at the resort - a case that once again put her in harm's way. If Matt hadn't trusted his instincts and saved her, she'd be like her Mercedes: in a million bits.

The silence was getting to Matt so he caved first.

"You've been quiet."

She glanced out her window and and didn't say a word.

So much for conversation. She used to be the easiest person in the world to talk to, but now?

They arrived at her home. He turned off the ignition and sat there, waiting for her to say something.

"What?" he asked, trying to prompt her.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. Your body language speaks volumes."

"Okay, well then, if you're so good at reading body language, why are you even asking?"

He grunted.

"C.J., you're not making this easy."

"Making what easy?"

"Okay fine," he complained as he climbed out of the car and walked around to open the door for her. Just as he arrived, though, she opened it and climbed out herself.

"I've got it."

He rolled his eyes and followed her to the door where she swung around and abruptly said, "Good night, Houston."

But as she turned to go inside he grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look at him.

"You've always been honest with me. Why the silent treatment? What'd I do wrong?"

She scowled, remaining mute.

"You know, you're not so pretty when you scowl that way," he quipped, hoping to get a reaction out of her.

She wrestled from his grip and shot right back. "Fine. I'll go inside so you won't have to see my ugly mug anymore!"

He sighed heavily.

"Now C.J. … C.J. ... c'mon now!"

She opened the door and tried to slam it shut, but he was too quick, bracing his arm against it.

"C.J. please!"

He followed her inside, cornering her with his soft yet intense dark brown eyes that had more power over her than any force of nature.

"Tell me what you want from me."

"You can't give me what I want … or won't."

"What?"

"All the therapy in the world won't give me what I need."

He rubbed his thumb along his brow, wishing he could interpret at least some of her rant.

"What you need?"

"Yes."

He thought hard, trying to use his honed detective skills on a relationship issue. Stupid.

"Does this have something to do with what happened a month ago?"

Her eyes showed signs of life as soon as he asked that. Okay, so maybe he wasn't so stupid.

"It does, doesn't it?"

She glanced down, suddenly becoming more interested in the carpet fibers than the conversation.

He placed his hand under her chin, lifting it gently.

"C.J. ..."

"We've never talked about it."

No they didn't. Or rather, he didn't. His best friend was irresistible that evening, what with the warm night air and the celebratory mood honoring her late friend Julia at a dinner. Oh there was also some escalating hormones, raging testosterone and adult beverages that played a part. He as handsome as ever in his designer tux, clean-shaven and wearing irresistible cologne. She as gorgeous as ever, her olive complexion and mahogany locks enhanced by a sexy satin-white evening gown. There was also some negotiating and promises that for one night they'd throw out the rulebook and do what felt good. When they awakened the next day they would go back to being friends and business partners as if it never happened. Deal. On with the show.

He took a deep breath, preparing to admit some of those dreaded feelings to make her feel better.

"It was wonderful, C.J."

Those words seemed to soften some of her contempt, even though it made him feel uncomfortable as hell.

"That's the first time you ever said something. I've been waiting for weeks for some kind of feedback. I was feeling rather silly for the way I acted."

Silly? No! Matt thought, triumphing internally, glad they were finally communicating. She was far from silly that night. It was true, however, that he never mentioned it in the weeks following. But that's because they're friends - best friends. Best friends don't need to discuss stuff like that, do they?

"You shouldn't feel silly ... not at all. I, uh, I just didn't think it was necessary to ... and ... well... I'm just not comfortable talking about these kinds of things."

She'll award him that. He's a man after all.

"I should know that much about you. You're a man of action, not words."

Bingo.

He proved that Nobel-prize statement by closing the space between them, grabbing her face with his hands and kissing her. He wanted her to know through his body language that he was up for another night like the one aforementioned.

She pulled back, intent on studying the sincerity in those eyes of his, knowing a few moments of euphoria might leave her feeling remorseful and regretful. But he distracted her, adorning her nape with his kisses, pulling his arms around her tightly as he could, pressing his fingertips into her skin.

For a moment she thought about turning him down. He didn't say anything about a commitment, about remaining monogamous or even the big "L" word, so the smart thing to do was to resist him. No... it was stupid. She couldn't resist the effortless power and charms of a man she's loved for years. Not anymore.

The next day she awakened by herself and for a moment, wondered if she imagined it. Then she detected the leftover remains of his aftershave on her pillow and felt the soft texture of the sheets against her bare skin.

"Houston?" she called out, but he didn't answer. Seconds later, he emerged from the next room, already dressed, no doubt ready to start the day and erase the last ten hours from his memory.

"Take your time, C.J. I'll have coffee ready when you get there."

She was about to reply when he leaned over, gave her a quick kiss on her forehead, and headed out the door.

And just like that, another night was over. No progress, no revelations, no nothing.

She felt like such a fool.

He never mentioned their second encounter, avoided her even more in the weeks following, and seemed more than eager to be apart from her than ever. A job to solve a murder out of town? No problem! He'd take Uncle Roy with him, an excuse that he needed his connection with an old friend to help solve it. It would have been so nice for him to ask her to accompany him. They could have stayed in the same hotel room and mixed a little business with pleasure, but no!

And then he added insult to injury when he met and fell head over heels in love with Elizabeth... and then, even worse, when he announced his engagement to Saint Lizzy! C.J. felt so used, so betrayed. It was as if someone cut her open, ripped her heart out, and stomped all over it. If Matt only knew how many times C.J. wanted to compare notes with Elizabeth regarding his "physical talents." It took everything she had to keep her lips sealed!

Upon hearing this news, Marguerite, who had at one point thought Matt and C.J. belonged together, now thought C.J. needed to take action against the man who was taking her for granted ... and breaking her heart in the process. If near death, two nights in the sack, and a lifetime of loyalty wouldn't get the rock of Gibraltar to move, then nothing would and she was wasting her time.

She couldn't imagine how hard it would be to let her feelings be known. Oh, but wait, she tried that. So there was only one recourse left: to be apart from him.

It was close to eight in the morning when she stepped off the elevator at the penthouse office suite. The lobby was empty, but that didn't surprise her. Chris was on vacation and the temp wouldn't show up until nine. The same was true for Murray who Matt declared was in dire need of a vacation. Roy rarely showed up before ten so she was safe as far as an audience was concerned. If only she was safe from her angst.

She walked into the office and didn't see him at first, until she neared closer to Baby and saw him sprawled out on the couch, seemingly passed out from having too much to drink the night before. She really didn't think she'd find him sleeping there – she thought he would be basking in the afterglow of spending the night with Elizabeth. But there he was, still in his tux sans the jacket, the tie wrangled from his neck, looking as handsome as always. She bent down closer to the back of the couch and kissed him on the forehead, getting a strong whiff of aftershave and scotch. Then she walked over to the bar, took the letter out of her purse, and set it by the coffee maker. By the time he'd see it she would be long gone.

When Matt awakened several minutes later he was greeted by the sound of someone snoring. He scanned the office, saw no one, and realized it must have been him. Embarassed, he tried to move and pull himself together, difficult he soon found because his head felt like a lead balloon. He saw the empty glass on the end table and remembered why: he had one hell of night after Elizabeth left his life, left him standing heartbroken and all torn up inside. Another woman walked out on him because he couldn't balance a relationship with his career. The price sure was steep for a man with nothing but good intentions, trying to save the world from low-lifes, taking on cases that no one else dared, risking his life. Would he ever find true love? In a city of over 15 million people surely he could find one woman who could handle his lifestyle. One woman who was her own person, not reliant on a man for much except the good stuff. One woman who was sexy, beautiful inside and out, had a heart of gold and was honest. One woman who would be his lover, best friend, never leave him. Did this woman exist? Why was she so hard to find?

Oh well. He figured he could bury himself in his work like always, easy to do since they had a half a dozen new cases to consider. He'd better pull himself together right quick though. C.J. would be in any minute now. He could picture her taking one look at him, one look at the office and sighing. With one hand on her hip she'd shake her head as he went about retelling his tale of heartache. Oh, but how could he discuss his love life with C.J. now? Ever since he slept with her, there were some topics off limits and relationship trouble was certainly one of them. It would be in poor taste to wallow in self-pity around the woman whose status had become ambiguous, albeit confused.

He made his way to the bar, stumbling a bit, when he saw what looked to be a letter with C.J.'s handwriting on it. This was odd, he thought, as a sickening feeling entered his gut. Why would C.J. leave him a letter?

His heartbeat doubled in time as he slipped his fingers under the flap and pulled out her handwritten note.

Dear Houston,

I know you may find the timing of this letter a bit odd, but I've been dealing with several issues over the past year that came to a head recently.

I love you. I love you more than you'll ever understand. This shouldn't come as a surprise because I've already told you. You never answered me, even though certain events in the past year drew us closer than we've ever been, and I'm not just talking about the two nights we spent together.

That being said, please know that leaving you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But, for reasons far too complicated to explain, I need to.

I'm as much to blame as you in all this. I should have never led you on thinking I could have casual sex with you and still be okay with us being only friends. What I really wanted from you was obviously something more than you could give.

I'm starting a new life for myself in a town far removed from L.A. Please don't look for me or come after me. Knowing you better than anyone, I realize these words might be in vain, but if you truly care about me, you'll obey my wish. It'll be a lot easier getting over you if I never see you again.

By the time you read this letter, I will be long gone. Say goodbye to Chris, Murray and Uncle Roy for me. Take care.

C.J.

"Good morning, Mattlock!" Roy greeted cheerfully, unaware of the hell Matt was going through.

Staring at the paper clutched in his hand, he didn't answer.

"Matt?"

"I can't believe this."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't believe she'd do this to me!"

"Who? Do what?"

"Boy you think you know someone!"

Roy sighed. "Who are you talking about? Elizabeth?"

"And talk about your lousy timing!"

Frustrated, Roy pursued. "Mattlock?"

But his nephew didn't answer. He was already in the lobby, impatiently pressing the button on the elevator.