A/N: Just a drabble that appeared in my head while driving and listening to Emeli Sande's My Kind of Love. Not your standard Valentine.


How had he gotten here? The case had been a bad one, and it ended badly. Three dead, including a fellow agent, and a gigantic mess left in the wake of it all. He made his way home, after one impulsive stop, and now sat in his darkened living room. Alone. Well, not quite alone. He had his old friend Jack sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Fritz sighed. He'd had worse cases, gone through worse things, without grabbing for a bottle. Why now? Brenda was away, but it probably wouldn't have mattered either way. Addiction was full of whys, and a trigger could result from far, far less. He'd sometimes felt the pull on good days, too. Asking why was a futile exercise. But now here he was, contemplating his tete-a-tete with Mr. Daniels.

The bottle and liquid within beckoned him, shimmering in the dim light that streamed in from the kitchen. It was seductive. And he was weak.


Brenda drove as fast as she dared and traffic would allow. Today was one of those days she wished she still had her badge and LAPD Crown Vic. Then she could have hit the lights and sirens and had the traffic part for her as she raced home. She cursed as a tractor-trailer pulled into her lane, forcing her to slow down. She had to get home. She'd talked to Fritz earlier and he'd told her about the case. He seemed out of sorts, "off" somehow, and ice shot down her spine. It was just a gut feeling, but those had never been far off, so she'd extricated herself from the meetings, checked out of the hotel, and hit the highway.

She was so grateful that this conference was in San Diego and not Sacramento like the last one was. She'd never make it home in time then. In time for what, she wasn't exactly certain, but she prayed to the God she didn't believe in that she'd make it.


He was drowning. Waves of darkness crashed and roiled over him. He was powerless and sinking. Then he sensed a shift - sweet air and light as soft familiar hands cupped his face, bringing him to the surface. He opened his eyes to an angel knelt before him.

"I didn't drink it."

"I know." The icy cold that had streaked down her spine earlier snaked around her heart when she saw the whiskey, nearly stopping it until she saw that the bottle was unopened. She marshaled all she had, to be strong for him the way he had been for her so many times.

"I couldn't call my sponsor. He had plans for tonight with his wife."

"And now so do you. Come on." She stood up and took his hand and tugged gently. "We'll go to a meeting."

He was bowled over. Not 'you'll go to a meeting', but 'we'll go to a meeting'. Until not long ago, this probably never would have happened. But she'd learned to let go and let him in, even this part of his life.

"Some Valentine's Day, huh?"

"I'm spendin' it with you. Besides, you're takin' me out for ice cream after. Or maybe cheesecake from that little place on Figueroa. I haven't decided."

He laughed as he rose to his feet. And marveled. Just minutes ago there had been nothing but his own weakness and the dark. He looked down into her beautiful brown eyes and saw what he needed to sustain him. Strength and light. And, of course, love.