Rita - "So, I mean, we'll just, um, we'll just move on, I mean, we're...same two people. We haven't changed - partners. So nothing's changed, right...?"

Chris - "Right...right. Nothing has changed."

Rita - "Ok..."

With that awkward conversation concluded, Rita finished her coffee - if you could even call it coffee, it was that bad - in silence as Chris choked down what was left in his cup. Rinsing her mug and placing it in the sink, she told him she needed to head home and get cleaned up for work, but in truth, she was just desperate to leave. She was sure her long-time partner and best friend was now furious with her. Before he could even open his mouth, she walked over, grabbed the keys to the car, gave him a quick hug - it would never do to just run out - and a little kiss on the cheek...

"I'll see you in the office, Sam," she said with as genuine a smile as she could muster, barely able to contain what was about to come out of her.

"Yeah, I'll see you in a few," came the response with a smile that was far more questioning than real.

Out the door and in the car, Rita drove off and made it around the corner before her emotions took over. By the time she stopped in a parking spot, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

"You idiot! What have you done?" she yelled as she bawled. "How could you be so stupid and so insensitive? First, you throw out all the rules the two of you have made - rules you held to for years, through every situation. Then, when the 'morning after' is here, you say to the man with whom you just spent the entire night in the throes of passion, 'It was a mistake'!"

She looked down at her lap and watched a tear fall on her pants, quickly absorbed by the fabric, leaving only a dark spot. There would be more. "And what did he say? 'It was fantastic!' or 'It was great!' or something like that. You look like the total jerk that just emasculated her partner. Wait, you don't 'look' like it, that's who you are. He probably hates your guts!"

"You loved everything about last night. It was not a mistake. It was better and more wonderful than you ever imagined it could be. It was fantastic, and he seemed to have a pretty good time as well. You would have let him throw you down on the kitchen counter this morning if he wanted. But you were so sure," she chastised herself out loud, dragging out the word 'so', "you were so sure he would have regrets this morning, you second-guessed, like you always do to keep from getting hurt, and decided to preempt him with 'regrets' of your own. You tried to sneak out of his place until guilt made you stay and then you made a fool of yourself when he came down. Idiot, idiot, idiot!" Rita emphasized each 'idiot' with a slap of the steering wheel.

Rita put her head back in her hands and cried some more, her thoughts drifting back over the last several days, which had been emotional enough even before this morning. She had been temporarily assigned to work with Detective Price, a good-looking officer who was also more than six feet of ego. That had been hard for her. A little too self-absorbed, much too smooth, and far too cocky, Michael was just the kind of man she tried to avoid in her personal life, and now she was spending most of her waking hours with one. The last time she had worked with someone else, it nearly cost Chris his life. This time, it had almost been her own.

What's more, Chris had taken vacation - at her request - to go visit Jillian and explore what might be left of their relationship. That was much harder for her. She tried to be nonchalant about his trip to Boston, but in her heart, she was terrified that Chris might realize he still had feelings for the surgeon who had saved his life. Even worse, he might decide Boston was where he wanted to be. He would come back long enough to pack his bags and then leave Palm Beach, leave the force he had served so long...and leave her. Every time those thoughts entered her mind, she felt the panic and nausea begin to build. Every night she wasn't undercover with Michael, she waited by the phone, badly wanting Chris to call, but horrified at what he might say. Why had she suggested he go? What was she thinking?

"Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?" she cried to the steering wheel, "We were both in a pretty good place after all the upheaval and broken relationships. You told him was getting more emotionally unbearable, but was that really true? Other than one or two minor incidents," she paused to think back a bit, "he's been a perfect gentleman since he split with Jillian. You didn't need a break from him! Why did you go and bring her up again?" Rita knew no one was listening, but one-sided conversations were all she had the last few days, and she was getting rather used to them. Unfortunately, steering wheels offered little comfort, and she was sure Christopher would offer even less now. She had really messed things up this time.

She looked up and then out the windshield, hoping no one was staring at the 'crazy woman in the parked patrol car', and knowing she had to get back to her place. Sorting herself out a bit, she finished the drive home.

As the hot water cascaded down her hair and face, she carefully rubbed the washcloth over her body. She was sore today. The force of the explosion, from just twenty feet away, had really done a number on her. There may have been just a few visible scratches and scrapes, and a small lump on the back of her head where it hit the ground, but the rest of her ached - badly. Guts, arms, chest, legs, back, everything.

Chris had returned from Boston, and his timing, as usual, was perfect. She was glad he had invited her over after the medics had cleared her, and she was equally glad he spent so much time massaging her aching muscles. He was always around when she needed him and - thinking back to the night he showed up with ice cream and brownies - even a few times when she thought she didn't. That was Christopher. Her Christopher. She loved h...

Wait...Rita stood straight up in the shower.

Had she just thought that? She loved Chris - really loved him? It wasn't the first time she thought it, and, of course, she told him she truly loved him...once. She would never forget that. He had nearly died from that bullet, and he probably should have died. But Jillian's superb surgical skills, Chris' strong spirit, and her own persistent presence and prayers by his side during that terrible time had made the difference. She was sure then that she loved Chris - no, was in love with Chris, completely and totally in love with him - and when he called to her that morning, she told him. It may have been just a whisper, but it was heartfelt and true.

"I love you," Rita whispered again from memory, standing in the shower, but her mind's eye seeing him again, lying there in the hospital with the tubes and wires attached.

Those three words had left her partner speechless. She saw the fleeting look of surprise and confusion in his eyes. She had blind-sided him. Yep, she had blind-sided him and probably driven him straight into Jillian's arms.

This time, it was four words.

"It was a mistake," Rita repeated aloud to the mirror. She hung her head as she toweled off and felt the tears coming again. She had said it to Chris this morning, and just like before, she saw it, that look of surprise and confusion. She had blind-sided him again, and probably driven him away for good.

"Oh, we'll still be partners, and we'll probably still be friends, maybe even good friends. After all, he said nothing has changed." Rita was looking through the closet for an outfit and talking, trying to predict the future to no one in particular. "But it won't be the same. He will be wary of me now. Always on his guard."

Chris Lorenzo knew all about her now. He knew every part of her. She had bared more to him than just her body. Her soul had been part of last night's package, every piece of it, and Chris had done the same. He had rubbed her shoulders, talked about Boston, and then confessed his love for her - true, complete, honest love. He had surprised her, not so much with his feelings for her, but with the fact that he actually told her. "And you aren't blind," she mumbled through the toothbrush in her mouth, "Your relationship with him has changed recently, to the point you started to wonder about your feelings for him."

Then he had kissed her. He kissed her for the first time, not play-acting and not part of undercover work, but for real. His lips were gasoline poured on the embers of her soul. And ever the gentleman, he gave her a way out, apologizing for being forward. Chris was brash sometimes, and confident always, but he was also so unselfish. When he asked if they should stop, there was no way she was going to, and so Chris had committed completely to her.

"He gave all of himself to you last night - heart, body, and soul, and this morning, you threw it back at him. You rejected him. You probably crushed him. 'It was a mistake.' How could you? Ugh, makeup is impossible when you're a blubbering wreck." Rita sighed through more tears, looked at the mirror and decided she was passable. She daubed her eyes dry, then a bit eye shadow and mascara, and called it good. It would have to do.

Breakfast was an afterthought. A glass of juice and two slices of toast that - thanks to more distraction - were burned to a crisp. She scraped a bit of butter over their blackened surfaces, then stopped and looked at them. Yep, just like any chance she had with Chris, burned beyond recognition. His declared love for her was little more than the smoking remains of a funeral pyre. She had picked some losers as lovers in her time, but this time, she had lost the one she really loved. She took the pieces of toast in her hands, looked at them one last time, then crushed them, showering crumbs on the counter. She walked to the garbage can and flung the remnants down, making a second mess as only part of what she threw arrived at its intended destination.

"Figures," she said with resignation, "I can't even make breakfast without making a mess. I love toast and I ruined it." She paused for a moment, "I think I really love Chris Lorenzo and I ruined that, too."

She washed her hands, grabbed her things and headed back to the car, wondering if there was a way out. Could she possibly fix this?

"You need to talk to Christopher, you have to talk to him," she repeated as she approached the office. "He loves you, and I think you love him. Fix this! Talk to him! And for goodness sake, don't give anything away to Lipschitz!"

He had gotten to work before her. She saw his white Challenger in the parking lot. It would never replace the totaled Charger that he loved so much, but at least it had the muscle he craved. She walked through the doors - her stomach in knots - to face her partner, the man she was sure she loved, and all the uncertainty that came with it. Morning-afters were brutal.

Chris stood stone-still as Rita left, and the clang of the door actually jarred him a bit. It jarred him back to a reality he wasn't sure he wanted to face. He looked down, ran his right hand through his hair - there it was, that little twinge of pain that occasionally surfaced to remind him of the old injury - and turned to face the door.

"Wow, what just happened?" he asked the room. There was no response.

He had opened his eyes this morning to complete contentment, scattered bed sheets, the intoxicating aroma of perfume, and the sound of his partner - his beautiful, wonderful Rita - moving around downstairs. He couldn't believe she was still here, which meant two things. First, it wasn't a dream after all. Second, and just as important, she hadn't felt the need to slink back to her apartment.

He had pumped his fist with a whispered, "Yes!" and flopped back in bed, thoroughly thrilled. Then he got up and headed downstairs, only to run into just about the worst situation he could imagine. Rita seemed unhappy with what had happened. More than that, she regretted it. He had already decided he was going to tell her how awesome the previous night - and most of the early morning - had been, but just as he did, she let fly with, "It was a mistake."

He had been stunned, and he continued the conversation aloud so the walls could hear his side. "She sure didn't seem to think it was a mistake last night. I even gave her the chance to put on the brakes before anything happened, but there was no stopping her. Then this morning she says it was a mistake. How was I to respond? There was nothing to do but go along with her. To argue it would be to jeopardize our friendship, and that's more important to me than anything."

Now she was gone. It was amazing how quickly things could turn. He took a deep breath, let it out with a shake of his head and a chuckle, and walked into the kitchen. As he cleaned the dishes and the counters, and made a mental note to buy real coffee, he asked the question that was nearly impossible to answer. "So now what?"

He thought back to what seemed like 'forever ago', but in reality was less than twenty-four hours. As he sat in a seat that catapulted him back to Palm Beach, his mind processed each word Jillian had spoken, carefully analyzing every nuance. Jillian said she loved him, but was finished competing with Rita. It was a battle she couldn't win, because his heart belonged to his partner. Chris had responded with the notion that he and Rita loved each other, but were not in love, and Jillian shook her head and laughed.

"That mantra again, Chris? You just don't get it, do you? I'm glad at least one of us does," she had said. "You can't give me your heart, because it doesn't belong to you anymore. Rita has it. And you can't hold my heart, because you already have one - care to guess whose? Trust me. A woman knows. I know Rita loves you more than the air she breathes, even if she won't admit it. She would rather be dead having your love than alive without it. A woman knows, Chris. You need to go back to Palm Beach. The two of you belong together. End of story."

As the plane's wheels touched down, Chris had decided he was really going to think about what his ex-girlfriend had said. Could he feel elation rising in his soul? Did his feelings for Rita go beyond partners and best friends? Did Rita really feel that way? Was Jillian on to something? Did he dare say anything to Rita? What if Jillian was wrong? Chris folded the kitchen towel, did a final survey of the kitchen - he hated messes - and headed up to the shower.

As the hot water cascaded down his hair and face, his mind continued along the chain of events, to his arrival at home and that terrible phone call. The growing excitement he was feeling was instantly gone, replaced by horror. Rita was working with Michael Price on a drug case and the prime suspect's car had been blown to smithereens. Rita was injured but her condition was unknown. Of course, he had received that call before...once. Rita had been working with another partner - Derek McNeill - on yet another drug case when a gunman attacked her. His phone rang that night as well. Rita and George Donovan were both hurt, but no condition was given. His world had stopped then, and it had stopped last night. There was only Rita. Get to Rita. Help Rita. Save Rita. Nothing else mattered.

As he raced to the scene, he fought to ward off the panic that was building in his guts. He tried to call Night Sweats as he flew through traffic, but the line was busy. He wanted to call Price - oh my, did he want to call Price - but that guy didn't even have a mobile phone. If Chris lived to be a hundred, he would never let Rita work with anyone else again! If Rita was dead, Price wouldn't survive the night, either. And now there was more. He realized that maybe he truly loved Rita, and this love might be little more than a shredded, smoldering body, snatched from him before he could utter a word.

Please God, no!

What an incredible relief it was - Chris reflected as he ran the razor across his cheek - to see Rita not only alive but relatively unscathed. He didn't even lay into Price for not protecting his partner, such was his thrill. He threw his arms around her and she seemed genuinely glad to see him, despite her 'sending him away' because of a bad attitude. And just like before, he had stayed with her until she was cleared, then put her in his car, and drove away - this time to his place rather than hers.

"Rita talked all the way here," Chris said as he finished holstering his pistol and giving himself a final check in the mirror. "And you? You could barely speak. You were so nervous. You had almost lost the woman you loved – there was no way you would let another day go by without saying something. But wow, you were scared."

As he got ready to head downstairs, he looked at the unmade bed where, until thirty minutes ago, he thought he had spent the greatest night of his life. Nope, he would leave it that way, just for a day. He hated unmade beds, too, but wanted to keep the reminder of what had happened there just a little longer. Rather than reject his confession of love last night, she had returned it with full ardor, nothing held back, nothing left in reserve.

"Yeah, that was incredible," he told the sheets, "Everything I could have wanted and more. Every once in a while, I'd think about what it would be like to be with her, but...I just...oh man," he smiled almost in disbelief, "I had no idea it would be so unbelievably great. Too bad 'it was a mistake.' I kind of wondered if that would happen, but when she was still here this morning, I thought we were good."

So he told her things would be fine. He told her nothing would change. But that was a lie, a Texas-sized lie, a gargantuan lie. It was just one night, but the memories were seared into his brain in a way no branding iron could ever do. Everything had indeed changed. He would do his best to keep things normal because that's what Rita wanted - because he knew now he loved her and would do anything for her.

"Wow, the sun is brighter this morning and the sky is bluer," Chris noted as he drove to work. "And this car feels like it has more power when I step into it than it did yesterday. Geez, Chris, you sound like a woman!"

"And I beat her to work today. That almost never happens." Rita had driven the police car home from his apartment, and it wasn't in the parking lot. Chris parked, looked at himself in the rear-view mirror, took a deep breath, and exhaled. "You might feel different, but you don't look any different, because nothing has changed. Well here goes nothing. Be calm, be normal, nothing has changed. The Captain sees everything. But nothing has changed, so there's no problem."

He walked through the doors, knowing he was a terrible liar, and he would never be the same this morning after.