"Love sought is good, but given unsought is better." Twelfth Night, Act 3, Scene 1

The two lovers were out of breath. C.J. was trembling all over, with tears trickling from her eyes. Houston was gently kissing her tears away. She tried to speak, "I… I… didn't…" She shook her head and tried to start again, "Nnnnn… wa… mmm… I… not…"

He was getting a little concerned that she was still trembling and not able to form a coherent sentence, so he said, "You can keep the sweatshirt." Her trembling turned into a fit of giggles, and he giggled along with her.

Five and a half months earlier:

It was a deluge outside as C.J. ran from her car to Houston's condo at the marina. He had been gone for three weeks after Elizabeth had walked out on him. The "wedding that wasn't" being interrupted by a psycho serial killer freaked her out completely, and even though Houston had promised to give up being a PI for her, she realized that he was his job, and trouble would always follow him. He didn't say where he was going or how long he would be gone, but that he'd keep in touch. He hadn't called yet, but she figured he'd be gone a few months to nurse his wounded heart. The lawyer let herself in with her key and kicked her flats off at the door (not her usual footwear, but she didn't want to ruin any of her high heels in the rain), and left her handbag on the chair. She was wearing a pair of white cotton shorts and an embroidered, light blue cotton top; both were drenched and she muttered to herself, "This is why the umbrella should just stay in the car…" It was unusual for California to have rain storms at this time of year, but here it was anyway.

She made her way up the stairs and started shivering because the AC was turned down very low. She commented under her breath, "Is he going to hang meat in here?"

She didn't want to drip through the house on her-self appointed mission of checking on his house plants, so she went through the kitchen into the laundry room and started to strip, then stopped to look for something to put on. She spotted his old college sweatshirt, and after tossing all her clothes in the dryer, put it on. It hit her above the mid-thigh mark, but she didn't worry too much since no one was there to see her anyway. She grabbed a pair of his thick socks and put those on, too. His sweatshirt still had the scent of his cologne, and she sniffed it and sighed. She hoped that he was enjoying his time away, and that he would return safely, but for now she could enjoy the aroma of his cologne. After she grabbed a towel and squeezed the rainwater out of her hair, she gave her brown locks a quick tussle, then set out to do what she came there to do.

She walked to the living room and opened the curtains a bit, then looked in the corner at the plant that was wilting there. "Come on little guy, let's get you a drink, then I'll put you out on the patio. Not much sun today, but it'll be better than this dark room." She padded her way back to the kitchen to look for the watering can.

Houston, wearing sweats and a T-shirt, had wandered out from his bedroom when he heard C.J.'s voice. She hadn't noticed him as he made his way over and leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, and watched her open the cupboard, As she leaned down to get the watering can, his sweatshirt slid up her legs to reveal the curve of her posterior, which gave him a rush of feelings that he probably ought not to have for his best friend and business partner, but on the other hand, it was a nice posterior. So he said, in a calm, even tone, "That's my sweatshirt you're wearing."

C.J. jumped and let out a startled yelp, "HOUSTON! Holy crap, you scared me!" She stood up straight and pulled the sweatshirt down.

"I don't know why you're surprised; I live here. And that's my sweatshirt you're wearing." He said in a bemused tone, while giving her a devilish grin. He started to wonder what she would do if he acted on his sudden impulse to kiss her, but he quickly suppressed that urge. Not the time, not yet.

She kept tugging the sweatshirt down her legs; she felt very exposed, and her cheeks reddened. "I came by to check on your plants." She couldn't believe her luck, him catching her in this state of undress, so she tried to change the subject. "When did you get back?"

He couldn't take his eyes off of her; she looked too damn sexy in his sweatshirt, "Last night. It was pretty late, so I didn't want to call and wake you." He paused and then said, "That's my sweatshirt you're wearing." He didn't add his thoughts on how alluring she looked wearing it though.

"I know," she said with a slight tone of exasperation, 'What is with him and this dumb sweatshirt?" she thought. But the way he was looking at her, was he thinking…? "Nah", she thought. They were just friends, best friends, and nothing more. "I needed something to put on while my clothes are drying, and it is cold in here."

He glanced quickly down at her chest and said, "I can see that. Your thermometers are up." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. Then he smirked as she went to cover her chest with her arms, but then realized the sweatshirt rode up when she did, so she went back to tugging it down her legs. "Heeey! Don't stretch it out!" His tone was almost like a little boy whining over someone taking his toy.

Incredulous, she snapped, "You've got to be kidding me right now!" She glowered at him while she pulled it down more, deciding that covering her lower half was more important than him looking at her "thermometers". She was feeling more and more naked by the second.

He continued in a slightly whiny voice, "Stoooop, you're gonna stretch it."

She glowered at him, "Well, then go get me something to put on my lower half, ya big baby." She rolled her eyes as he walked away.

He shouted over his shoulder, "I heard that eye roll!" He laughed at her laughing at him. He had truly missed their banter since he had left three weeks ago. Then, the more he thought about it on his way to his room, it had been longer than that, really. Why didn't he see then how much he needed her playfulness in his life? Elizabeth was so serious and dramatic and downright dower pretty much all the time, but C.J. was always so easy going and lighthearted even when she had been in the hospital after surgery to remove a bullet or two or three from her body. She could always make his day with her smile, and her laugh… Without thinking he went to the dresser and grabbed a pair of white cotton panties from his "guest" drawer, and as he was about to walk out of the room, he spotted something that made him grin.

As he positioned himself in the door way he tossed a roll of thick cotton string to her and she caught it one handed. She looked at it and said in an irritated voice, "Oh, ha-ha. You're hilllll-arious." She dropped the roll onto the floor and it spun away. She then narrowed her eyes at him and tugged the sweatshirt down even harder. That got his attention.

His eyes widened, "OK! OK! Stop stretching it!" So he pulled the panties out of his back pocket and tossed them to her, but she didn't attempt to catch them, they hit her in the chest, and then fell to the floor.

She looked at them, then looked up at him and asked in a flat tone, "Whose panties are those?" She set her jaw at the thought of who they belonged to. No way in HELL was she going to wear her underwear for more reasons than one.

His eyes widened and he realized his error, "Ehrrr… Oh… Yeah, hold on." He walked back to his room and grabbed a pair of Christmas boxers that someone had given him, but he never wore, and returned to the kitchen, then tossed them to her and she caught them.

"Turn around," she ordered him. He waggled his eye brows at her before he did so. She said jokingly, "I'm surprised you're not worried about your socks."

He chuckled, "I've seen your bare feet many times. However, your bare…"

"Oh, stop!" she fussed at him, "Honestly!" She pulled them up, but they were too big for her so she had to hold them at the waistband so they wouldn't fall down. "Alright, you can turn around now." When he did, he smiled and chuckled. "What?" she asked slightly annoyed. Now she had her top and bottom covered, but she still felt naked in front of him.

"Don't think you're going to be able to water the plants AND hold up your britches." He spotted the string on the floor, and said, "Here let me tie them up for you." He walked over to where she was leaning against the counter, picked up the string and told her, "hold my sweatshirt up a bit, will ya'?" She did and watched him as he pulled the waistband to one side to tie it off, but then he spied the scar on her abdomen, and paused. His mood changed suddenly, like a gust of wind had taken him to a dark place.

She sensed something had changed, but she wasn't sure what it was, so without looking up she softly said, "What?"

One of the many questions he had asked himself in the past three weeks came back to him in rush. He leaned his forehead down on hers, and whispered, "Why are you still here?"

She had a feeling the question was deeper than it appeared on the surface by the way his tone of voice changed. Hoping to lighten his mood, she whispered back, "Because… My clothes are still in the dryer."

He chuckled softly, lifted his head to give her a kiss on the forehead, and then rested his head on hers again, both of them looking down at her scar. With his left hand he found her right hip, with his other hand he gently traced her scar with his thumb, over and over while he spoke softly, "No… I mean, why are you still… working with me? You could be in a safe corporate environment or even working for the DA. Why would you want to stay in a job that's gotten you shot three times?" He didn't even mention the various other injuries and kidnappings.

She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. He knew why. She had told him minutes before before being shot for the second time, as they were making their escape from a building looking for evidence that would exonerate him from a murder charge. But he hadn't responded to her declaration of love the first time, and she didn't think this was the time to repeat herself. So she chose to tell him the other half of the truth and in a quiet voice said, "Because I'm the job… Just like you're the job... I like helping people. Doing the research. The field work. Catching the bad guys, so they can't hurt anyone ever again. I understand, maybe better than anyone, why you do what you do. I love helping you in your mission. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He didn't respond right away. As he continued to stroke her scar, he struggled to say the next part, and so kept his voice low, "Your last gunshot wound… I was so… I really thought I was going to lose you." She put her hands on his arms and gently caressed them. The energy that passed between them was palpable. He continued, "I know you like the field work, but…" He shook his head, "I'm sorry if you felt like Uncle Roy replaced you…"

She interrupted, "It is O-K. He's one of the few family members you have left and you want to spend time with him. I get that. He has a lot of good connections that have helped. But I would be lying if I said that I didn't miss being out there with you."

His voice was choked with emotion, "The last time you were, you were almost blown up, and that was after the gunshot wound that almost claimed your life. I've lost so many people I care about. I just can't… lose you."

She smiled as she whispered, "In case you haven't figured it out; I'm kinda hard to lose, pal." He chuckled softly, and she gave his arms a squeeze and continued, "I don't want to lose you either, and it's been real close a couple of times. But it's part of the job, not a fun part, but it's the risk we both are willing to take to help people. OK?"

They stood like that for a few minutes, him stroking her scar, her gently rubbing his arms, when he asked in the same soft tone, "Does it hurt you still?"

She decided to be honest with him, "Sometimes. They said they removed quite a bit of the scar tissue from the first…" She didn't like to say it. Whether it was "bullet wound" or "gunshot wound" they both had a ring to them that she wouldn't accept into her life – she was not going to be anyone's victim; she was a survivor. She swallowed hard then continued, "...time, while they were in there. The surgeon said I may need to have another surgery to remove the scar tissue from this last time if it causes me too much pain, but..." Her voice trailed off.

He finished her thought, "You don't want to be in the hospital again." He felt her head nod slightly. Neither one of them were "good little patients", so he understood her feelings on the matter completely. "Promise me if it ever gets too bad, you'll get it taken care of. I'll take you anywhere in the world you want to go to recover."

She pondered that last sentence. He had sent her to Hawaii alone to finish recovering the last time, which had its upsides… One rather tall, handsome upside… But Houston had just said, "I'll take you…" Would he really want to come along? She made herself stop trying to read anything into it. "I might take you up on that."

He tilted his head up and kissed her on the forehead again. "Good. Now, let's get this tied up so you can commence with the plant waterin'." They both giggled, and he got the boxers tied so they wouldn't fall down. He then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug that she willingly joined, and hugged him back resting her head on his chest. "Tell you what, after you finish watering the plants, why don't we watch the game? I'll make us some snacks…"

"Sounds good to me." She said with a big smile as she pulled back from the hug.

"Do you want a beer or wine or…" He left it as an open ended choice, since she knew what he kept in the house adult beverage-wise.

"I'll take white wine if you have it." She gave him a peck on the cheek then went to fill the watering can.

After she finished watering the plants and setting them outside for some light, she joined him on the brown leather sofa downstairs. She was close to him on his left side, but not close enough for his liking, so he put an arm around her and slid her so that their bodies were touching. He needed her close to him after everything that happened and his trip away. She smiled at him, and then leaned forward to grab her glass of wine. When she leaned back she rested her head on his shoulder. They watched the game while munching on nachos, an easy quiet between them. She wanted to ask him more about his trip, but knew he would tell her when he was ready.

She moved her foot up on to the couch, exposing an almost vertical bruise on her inner thigh. He looked at the deep purple mark and asked in a concerned voice, "How'd you get that?"

She didn't see what he was looking at so she asked, "Get what?"

He reached over and lightly touched the bruise, "That."

She hesitated, "Oh, that… Well…" She knew she couldn't lie to him, because ever since they were kids he could always spot her lies, but she could hedge the truth a bit, "Doc wanted to take up this new type of… dancing… It's… It works a lot on building your core muscles, flexibility… That sort of thing…" She hoped he wouldn't ask too many more questions. But she knew him too well.

He raised an eyebrow, "Dancing?" He didn't believe for one second that dancing was the reason.

"Yup." She gave him a quick sideways glance.

"That causes this…" he poked her purple mark and she flinched, "Sorry… this kind of bruising?"

"Yup." She shot him another glance and started to blush. As far as she was concerned she was never going to tell him, because he would never let her live it down if he knew.

The PI in him spotted a secret and he had to know more, so he began the methodical weeding out of the truth, "So, your friend, physician, and sorority sister, Carol, a.k.a. Doc, got you to take a dance class that causes that kind of injury? What did she say when she saw it?"

C.J. sighed, he was not going to let this go, "She said, and I quote, 'Suck it up, buttercup! No pain, no gain'." She wrinkled her nose while saying, "I'm thinking about switching doctors. Who do you go to?"

He laughed, "We go to the same one, when you can get me to go."

She grinned and said, "Damn…" In a vain effort to change the subject she said, "Oooo! Look at the score!" She pointed to the TV.

He didn't look; his gaze remained firmly fixed on her face looking for any tells. "Nice try. So what kind of dancing would leave a vertical bruise on a thigh…? Hmmm… I can two-step with the best of them, but never gave or received an injury like that. Salsa? Tango? No, can't be it..." He was looking at her intently while she avoided his gaze. Just then the buzzer on the dryer went off.

She hopped up quickly, setting her glass down, and said hurriedly, "Wup, dryer's done. Better go, don't want them to wrinkle." She beat a hasty retreat up the stairs.

He called out after her, "This isn't over! I will find out!" He could ask Doc, but then she'd want him to come in for a checkup to get the answer. Maybe as a last resort he'd consider it.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" She hollered over her shoulder. After she dressed, she put his sweatshirt back on because she was still cold, and because she was enjoying how it annoyed him. He seemed to be coming back to his former, fun self over this silly sweatshirt. She then rejoined him on the couch to watch the rest of the game.

He eyed her, "Don't try to steal that sweatshirt. I will call Hoyt and press charges if I have to."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Ya' gonna tell Uncle Roy on me, too?"

He narrowed his eyes, "I might. Let's hope it doesn't have to come to that."

"We can only hope." She said with a laugh. She snuggled next to him with his arm around her shoulder and they went back to watching the game. The rain had stopped and the sun came out. She commented, "Good, now your plants will get some much needed sun."

A while later, he looked over at her and said, "Can I run something by you?"

She wasn't sure if she was going to like this, so she asked suspiciously, "As your friend or your lawyer?"

He mused, "I think I might need both."

She looked at him, "Color me intrigued."

"I was thinking about buying my ranch back." He saw her raised eyebrows and said, "I've enjoyed being close to the water and learning how to sail, but… I'm really a cowboy at heart."

She smiled and enthused, "Yeah, ya' are." as she nudged him, then asked, "So what do you need me to do?"

He was happy she was on board with his sudden desire to get back to… himself. "Figure out what the fair market value is on the ranch, then make them a VERY generous offer to buy it."

She was thrilled that he wanted to move back to the ranch. He needed a place to get away from the action of L.A. He could ride his horses and get his mind off of things and refocus when he was on the ranch. This house didn't have the same effect on him, quite the opposite, really. She inquired, "Will I get to board my horse there again?"

He gave her a stern look, "I don't know. Not sure if I want a sweatshirt thief on the grounds."

She became mock indigent, "How have I stolen? Your honor, my client hasn't even removed the sweatshirt in question from the premises, so HOW can it be stolen? Move for dismissal."

His stern look continued, "Overruled."

She retorted with, "Oh, bite me."

He bared his teeth and went for her shoulder as she laughed and pulled away. He caught her and pulled her back to him saying, "Settled down there counselor. So will you help me?"

Still laughing, she replied, "Of course, I will. I'll get started on Monday."

Feigning surprise he said, "Boy, I've been gone three weeks and you think you get an entire weekend off?"

She shook her head, "You know what? This sweatshirt is going home with me, if that's your attitude."

He laughed and said, "I will take that off you." as he reached for the hem.

"You can try, but Too Mean taught me some moves…" Her voice trailed off as his death hit her again. Hard. And out of nowhere. Her chin quivered, and she sadly intoned, "I miss him." A couple of tears rolled down her cheek, "His workouts were killer, but he was sweet, too."

Houston stopped and pulled her in for a hug, "I miss him too. He was a brave man." Thinking back on how Too Mean had sacrificed himself so that Houston could get his cousin, Will, out of a POW camp in Vietnam. He pulled her down next to him as he lay down on the couch, and she rested her head on his chest. They watched the rest of the game with their arms around each other, having been reminded that in their profession, life could be too short and not to overlook the little moments with each other.

She got up and walked over to put on her shoes with her purse in hand. He suddenly realized he was sad to see her leaving, but she had declined his offer for dinner, saying she had to get up early in the morning. She smiled at him and said, "Uncle Roy is coming over to my place tomorrow to show me how he makes Coq Au Vin. You want to join us?"

"I'd love to. Can I bring anything?" He replied happily as he walked over to her.

"Just yourself." She said with a wink, and then gave him a peck in the cheek, and was out the door.

"Oh! What time?" He almost forgot to ask as she was walking down to the sidewalk that lead to the parking lot.

"He's coming over about three to get started, but you can come over anytime you're ready." She said over her shoulder picking up her pace as she made her way down the sidewalk.

"I'll be there." He sighed as he watched her walk away. As he was closing the door he wondered if it was too soon to take that next step with her. She wouldn't want to think that she might be the "rebound" girl. He wouldn't want her to think that either. He also wouldn't want her to think that she was a "consolation prize" or "last resort". His time away, and tonight with her, had shown him that he had been fighting a losing and pointless battle with his feelings towards C.J. She was the one he wanted and needed to be with. More importantly, she was the one he loved. "Maybe I could tell her tomorrow? No. Wait until after I get the ranch back. Give it some time," he thought.

Then it hit him, "Oh, shit! She's got my sweatshirt!" He ran out to try and catch her, but she was already pulling out onto the road and he could have sworn he heard her laugh.