A/N: Wow. Haven't written H:LOTS in a while...don't own it, and there you have it.
When he goes into Homicide, something changes.
The stupid thing about it is that she wouldn't have noticed if not for the fact that she misses him enough that it hurts. But she does notice, and so do all the other guys stuck with her in Arson. The difference is that they notice because they are afraid of what he might say; she notices, because he was her partner, is her partner, and because she actually gives a damn.
It is for this reason that she keeps an eye on him, even though she told him she wouldn't worry.
All bets were off when he started to fall.
What strikes her as incredibly, ridiculously amusing about this is the fact that he doesn't seem to know that he is.
If there is one thing that Melanie Scott wants to do right now, it is to knock some sense into her former partner, because no one else is going to do it. She won't, of course, because he wouldn't want her to interfere, though she doubts that he'd actually do anything if she did. They've talked maybe six times since he left Arson, and she knows better than anyone else that Mike Kellerman is one stubborn son of a bitch when he wants to be. And it's starting to get on her nerves.
Home for her partner is a sometimes-charter boat that kind of passes for a houseboat.
It is midnight on a hotter-than-hell summer night in Baltimore when she goes looking for him.
Oddly enough, he's there, standing out on the deck, shirtless and about to light a cigarette when he sees her.
"What're you doing here?" he asks, in no real mood to talk. "It's the middle of the night. Shouldn't you be home with what's-his-face?"
"Shouldn't you be in a bar?" Melanie retorts, annoyed. "Put a shirt on, Kellerman. I want to talk to you."
He rolls his eyes at her. "What are you, my mother?"
She glares. "Don't make me come up there and hit you."
He decides not to test the theory that she won't.
Minutes after her threat, he has a department shirt on, and a pair of sandals and they are headed down the dock, away from the boat.
"Y'know, I had company," Mike remarks, finally lighting the cigarette he was holding onto. Melanie snorts.
"Company, my ass," she replies. "You just finished with the medical examiner…or was it someone else tonight?"
He scowls. "What's with the attitude?"
"What's with the drunk-off-your-ass sleeping around?"
She's in one of her moods, he realizes, but it doesn't stop him from answering.
"Jealous, much?" he asks, and isn't surprised when she swats at him, pissed off enough that her aim is off, and she misses.
"You're an insufferable asshole."
"So why the hell are you talking to me?"
"Because you're still my damn partner and you're being an idiot."
"I'm not your partner."
There is dead silence after this. Melanie blinks, once, twice, and a third time, to make sure that she's steady before looking at him.
"I wasn't aware that we'd reached that conclusion," she says.
"We didn't," Mike says, calmly blowing a smoke ring in front of them. "I did."
"Why the hell would you do that?" Melanie demands. "And without talking to me?"
"Hey there, honey, the road goes both ways," he tells her, and it hits her that he might actually still be drunk.
Now she definitely wants to hit him.
"You don't see it, do you?" she asks. "You really can't see that you're gonna kill yourself if this keeps going."
"Already tried," says Mike. "Got talked out of it, but I gotta tell you, Mel, I'm starting to wonder if I should've listened."
She stares, watches as he stumbles slightly and nearly falls into the water.
"I'm glad you did," she says, quietly, pulling him away from the edge of the dock. "I'm really glad you did."
Mike blows another smoke ring and shrugs. "Could've fooled me," he says, and then, "You know, things have been really screwed up ever since I left Arson."
She knows this, because things have been pretty screwed up for her, too.
None of the other guys want to work with her, because they're dirty, and they know it, and they know that she knows it. Mike is the last real partner she had, and to know that he no longer things there is a partnership between them really hurts. It has been four years since either of them were on solid ground, and neither of them like it.
Mike flicks his cigarette into the water. "So, how's the kid?"
The kid is a four-year-old girl who keeps asking when she'll be able to see 'Mikey' again.
She is an only child who Melanie named 'Michaela' for her partner (which pissed her husband off, but he wasn't there and Mike was, and so at the moment, it had seemed fitting). She is also the only reason why Mike has bothered to talk to her at all over the past few years. It wasn't always like that. Before, there was always something more. Now, they have been reduced to 'how's what's-his-face', and 'how's the kid'. This hurts, too, more than she wants to admit.
"She's fine," Melanie says finally. "Wants to see you."
The half-hearted smile that crosses Mike's face at this is enough to make her think that maybe he still cares.
They continue walking.
They used to burn the midnight oil like this back when they were both in Arson, just walking. Not anymore. Melanie pushes her hair back out of her eyes, and gives him a sideways look.
"Mikey," she says, quietly, "What the hell are you doing to yourself?"
He looks away from her. "I don't know, Mel," he replies. "I really don't know."
Silence. He lights another cigarette and takes a drag; Melanie pretends not to notice this. He gives her an amused look.
"What, no lecture?" he asks. She sighs.
"You wanna burn the hell out of your lings, it's on you," she says.
He laughs, but doesn't answer.
This time, it's actually because there is nothing for him to say.
Things have changed too much, he realizes, as they continue on. They'd hated each other at the beginning and now it's almost to the point where they hate each other again. Her only child is his namesake and in some ways, the only kid he'll ever come close to having, but they've drifted so far apart that he's surprised she still bothers. The problem, he muses, is that as partners, they got too close too fast, and now they want distance, but neither of them can let it go.
"…she really misses you, y'know," Melanie is saying when Mike starts paying attention again. "It'd be nice if you'd drop by."
"You sure I wouldn't be crossing any boundaries?" he asks. Melanie smirks.
"I did that when I named her."
He remembers this, oddly enough.
There are a lot of little things like that, things that he remembers about their partnership as it used to be, and these are the things that keep him holding on. But Melanie doesn't know that. And he is well aware of the fact that all she might see in him now is a burned out cop who drinks too damn much and needs to quit smoking. So he stays away, and so does she, and now they are stuck here in this moment, but neither of them want to walk away.
"How much longer do you really think that you can keep going like this?" she asks, turning in her tracks, stopping directly in front of him. "How long until even I can't pull you out of the fire?"
"What if I told you that it's too late to save me?"
"I'd tell you to shut the hell up, because it isn't."
And there it is, the way they used to be.
For a moment, he can almost believe that this is four years ago, and she's walking even though she shouldn't be, and he's worrying over her about the fact that she's too close to her due date to be wandering around Baltimore. For a minute, he is able to believe that this is a regular occurrence of burning the midnight oil with her, but it's not. And at the moment, he is to afraid of what she'll think if he tells her what's really on his mind, so he says nothing, and just stares. After a moment, she looks away.
"Don't look at me like that," she tells him. "I told you I'd never give up on you, and I meant it."
He shakes his head at her, reaches forward to push her hair back out of her eyes.
"What'd I ever do to get stuck with you?"
She blinks again at this, but doesn't turn away.
"You're such an idiot," she tells him, annoyed by the fact that her voice is shaking. "Why'd you let it get this far?"
"Once you start, it's hard to turn around," comes the reply. "I wasn't aware that anyone cared enough still to come after me."
This time, she is the one who reaches forward, to touch his face with a shaking hand, blinking again.
"I've lost sleep over you, Kellerman," she says, quietly. "It's not really the greatest feeling in the world."
He stays where he is, held there solely by the fact that she is there, too.
"It wouldn't be so hard to turn around if you were with me," he tells her, almost inaudibly. "I miss you, Mel. I don't want to do this anymore."
She nearly laughs. Instead, her hand drops from his face and takes one of his own, squeezing hard.
"I was hoping you would say that," she replies. "I don't burn the midnight oil for just anyone, y'know."
Another half-hearted smile crosses his face at this. "You still think I'm worth it?"
"Well, now that you're done being a jerk, yeah," she replies. "Come on, I'll walk you home."
They go, hand in hand.
It occurs to both of them vaguely, that maybe they shouldn't be standing so close to each other, and maybe he shouldn't be so reluctant to let go of her hand when they get to the boat. But he is, even though he does, and stands there for a moment on the dock before climbing on, watching her as she stands there, rocking back and forth on her heels. There are no shoes on the boat deck; Julianna is gone and there will probably be a note on the table inside that he will not see. After a moment, he reaches across for Melanie's hand, climbing up onto the edge between the water and the dock.
"Don't let me fall, Mel," he says, quietly.
But she catches him, and holds him there quietly against her, when he finally does.