AN: This is my first RS fic. I hope you all like it. :) Please read and review.

"London Nap"

Blindly, he followed her down the hall of the impersonal hotel. He entered the room, closing the door behind him. As she performed her ritual of checking on her personal items to insure they were undisturbed, he stretched himself out on the bed with each flex of the limb revealing his frustration and disappointment. They had been so close this time to finding something about him that would have been certifiably genuine. The drawers thudded gently and closet doors clicked open and shut, while he meditated once again on the reality that she was by far the most intelligent woman he had ever known. And not only intelligent, but beautiful, compassionate, and though it was not always evident, she was—fortunately for him—patient. With that in mind, he found himself wishing that he could give her what she wanted, what she deserved: stability, security, belonging, guarantees. But how could he honestly offer that to her when he did not even known who he was? All he could sincerely promise her was that he would never leave her. But who was to say she would always consider that favorably? Supposing the truth of who he was one day made her realize that she was far better off without him. Regretfully, he considered the plans he had made for tomorrow. He had hoped to assure her once and for all that his unwillingness to make a commitment had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the fact that he was not sure what he would be getting her into. Since he once again had no parents or identity, those plans now seemed a little too grandiose for someone in his position.

While he was reaching the pinnacle of his morose conclusions, he glanced left long enough to see her curl up next to him on the bed. "Tired, Miss Holt?" he queried distractedly.

"Not really," she answered softly. "Well, maybe a little. You?"

"Hmm-mm." He felt small, soft fingers slip against his palm and gratefully accepted them. Meeting her eyes again, he whispered, "Thank you for going with me today."

She acknowledged with a sad smile and said only, "I wish it would have ended better for you."

He sighed heavily and turned his attention back to the ceiling. "Can finding out the truth really be considered a bad ending?"

"Maybe not bad. But it could still be disappointing."

For more reasons than one, he thought bitterly. "How have things been at the agency?" Pondering whether or not to let him have his way in diverting the subject, she absently stroked his fingers. Unable to cause him more disappointment, she mentally assented. But how to answer that question. Business had been steady. But overall very uneventful without him there. From this thought she drew her answer.

"Pretty dull, really. You didn't miss much." A moment filled with a thousand hopes and a million hesitations passed between them before he replied by possessively locking his fingers with hers.

"Yes I did." He captured her gaze again in an effort to solidify his meaning. Her lips parted briefly, but words did not come. Instead, she clung more tightly to his arm and buried her face against his shoulder. Regularly during their separation, she had hoped he was miserable. She found herself angry at him for going away and even angrier at herself for not giving him a reason to stay. But now her prevailing emotion was not satisfaction that he had suffered, but relief that she had not suffered alone.

"Me too," she answered weakly. Stifling a relieved chuckle he moved his arm around her and pulled her against his side. Reflexively she draped her arm across his torso and was met with a grimace.

"Just a little higher, please, Laura." She apologetically moved her arm up to rest on his chest away from his wounded midsection.

"Sorry," she offered guiltily. "Habit."

"It's all right. I'm okay. But consider yourself warned. Next time I make you go lower." he pardoned her with a wink. Her response was typical. A faint smile accompanied by a roll of the eyes, but he didn't care today. It felt good to hold her again. Her physical absence had been difficult for him. He had been accustomed to touching her if only in some small way at least once or twice a day. Lately, it had grown worse when he would lie down for the night to think of her and try to sleep. He had started to forget her face. It was becoming more and more difficult to remember the smell of her perfume, and the feel of her hair in his fingers. The sound of her laughter had all but escaped his memory, and the taste of her kiss was gone. He had wondered sadly if it would ever return. But now he held her close, and savored the feeling of her slender frame pressed against him. Somehow he had to make her stay. He missed the life they shared together. Working with her by day and playing with her by night. Maybe so much togetherness caused a few more arguments than were absolutely necessary, but they always managed to work things out. Until the last one of course. He had thought she was just angry about their license being revoked, but when he had gone to her loft to make amends and overheard another man making travel plans with his Laura, he had lost all perspective. He had left, and now they could not go back to how things had been. He was stranded. Stuck in London with no means of getting out. But letting her go was out of the question. Not now that he had her again. No. He had to find a way to keep her exactly where she was right now. His body responded to his mind by holding her more closely. She did not seem to mind, tilting her face up to rest against his neck. Her warm, even breaths on his skin reminded him of how lonely he had been. The only people who had touched him since leaving Laura had been trying to toss him in the clink. Except Felicia. A good deal of time had been spent recently trying to decide if his excuse of being "previously committed" had been just an excuse or a truth of fundamental importance. He knew that he loved Laura, but did that mean he was committed to her? Ultimately, that depended entirely on Laura. If she wanted to be with him, he would drop the possibility of anyone else in a moment. But how could he commit himself to someone who did not want him? Being close to her was acting as a tonic on him. He felt more relaxed than he had in months, in spite of being uncertain of her feelings. He had finally resolved to discuss their future when he heard the change in her breathing. She was asleep. Typical. He kissed her forehead softly and was rewarded by a wayward leg locking over his and her hand slipping inside the collar of his shirt. At least subconsciously she wanted to be with him.

"Sweet dreams, Miss Holt." He felt soft lips briefly caress his neck.

"Don't let me sleep too long," she requested. Or maybe even consciously.