Author's Note: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I think it's my favorite so far. Hope you have fun reading it, and please review!

Rating: M for language.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. By now, this should be fairly obvious.

Chapter Three: Fool Hearted Memory

Daylight gradually pulled Scotty from a deep sleep the next morning. He awoke in a thick fog, with his face buried in the pillow, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his head throbbing. He moaned with regret as his hangover made its unwelcome presence known, and began to try and force himself fully awake. Opening one eye to glance at the clock, he realized that there was plenty of time to get to the airport for the flight back to Philly, but his heart sank when he realized he was going to have to spend a few hours on a plane in his miserable state. Flying with a hangover was the worst.

He sure hoped Lilly had managed to keep her head on straight, though the sudden, hazy memory of her line dancing with Big Daddy didn't instill a lot of confidence. The Lilly Rush he knew didn't dance, so he figured she'd had more than her share of booze as well.

Lilly….when had she left the bar last night, anyway? Scotty's mind fought through the fuzz as he tried to remember the previous evening's events. He pushed himself up onto his elbow slightly to try to get his bearings, and saw his clothing scattered across the floor. As the memory dawned on him, a satisfied smile crept across his face. Oh, yeah...that's right…he'd had sex. Really, really damn good sex. With…

Who?

He couldn't remember.

He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, trying to place the clothing that he couldn't readily identify as his. Black pants. Light blue blouse. Black blazer. Clothing that suddenly seemed uncomfortably familiar. Clothing that could only belong to…

Oh, shit.

Reality hit him like a ton of bricks, and he sat bolt upright in bed, then groaned as his already throbbing head protested the sudden movement with an extra shot of pain. Scotty scrubbed a hand over his stubbled face as the memories came flooding back. Lilly coaxing him out onto the dance floor…Lilly smiling up at him as he bent down to kiss her…Lilly trying to keep up with him as they raced back to the hotel…Lilly pushing aside his pants and taking him in her hands…Lilly screaming in ecstasy as she came…Lilly resting her head on his shoulder and drifting off to sleep…

Oh, SHIT.

He looked to his right and saw the sleeping form of Lilly Rush. His first instinct was to bolt out of bed and hide in the bathroom, but his body wouldn't allow him to move that fast, and besides, the sudden movement would wake her, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be around for that. Who knew what her reaction would be? His mind raced through the possibilities, and every scenario he could conjure up involved her kicking the crap out of him. Slowly, gently, he slid out of the bed, praying with every inch of progress that Lilly didn't wake up. And he figured that apparently, somewhere along the line, he must have done something right, because his prayer was answered. Once on his feet, Scotty fumbled around on the floor for his boxers and tried to get his bearings. He hoped he'd be able to sneak out without waking her, to get back to his room and have some time to figure out how the hell he was going to face her on the plane back to Philly, how the fucking hell they were going to work together after this. Crap. What had he been thinking last night? How could he have let this happen? He'd slept with the wrong woman more than once, but this? This took the cake. Not only was she his co-worker, his partner, hell, his ex-girlfriend's sister, but, he realized, she was his best friend, too. Scotty wasn't exactly sure how many rules that broke, but he knew it was a number higher than he could count in his addled state. Frantically, he gathered up his clothes, threw them on, and headed for the door…

Until he saw the suitcase open on the stand.

SHIT.

It was his suitcase.

Not hers.

His.

Goddammit.

He turned around hastily, taking in the rest of the room, and sure enough, he recognized all the belongings strewn about as his. In his haste, he stubbed his toe on the dresser and swore again.

Lilly moaned and stirred in her sleep, and Scotty froze dead in his tracks. He breathed a sigh of relief when her eyes didn't open, but he decided that it had been entirely too close, and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom, where he realized that a shower was probably in order. He turned on the water, managing to scald himself as he always did when using unfamiliar showers, and began to undress, catching a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. Sunken, bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair, and a full day's worth of stubble. With a rueful smile, he sarcastically congratulated himself. You look like hell, Valens.

He stepped into the shower and just stood there for a few minutes, letting the hot water and steam coax some life back into his body, before fumbling with the little bottle of shampoo and working the suds through his hair.

Sleep slowly released its claim on Lilly as she gradually opened her eyes and, ignoring the dull throbbing of her head, tried in vain to adjust to the brightness of the room. What time was it? She panicked briefly, knowing she had a plane to catch, and rolled over to find the clock radio. The glowing red numbers brought her a sense of relief: it was much earlier than she thought it was.

As conscious thought returned, she heard an unfamiliar sound. Water. Water running…somewhere. The shower…her shower. Who would be taking a shower? Who the hell else would be taking a shower in her room?

She sat up to try to assess the situation, and quickly realized that she wasn't in her own room. Who the hell had she gone home with last night…and what the hell had they done?

Lilly forced herself out of bed, not knowing how long her mystery man had been in the shower, but she reasoned that if he was anything like most men, she wouldn't have long. As Lilly started to gather her discarded clothing from the floor, she suddenly remembered how it had gotten there. Bronze skin…soft lips…gently flowing Spanish…her heart raced at the memory, but the man's face wouldn't spring to mind.

Well, whoever he was, Tennessee had been good to her, and she would return home with confidence. At least here in Nashville, nobody knew about her scads of issues, her tendency to play the porcupine with anyone who tried to get close, her increasingly cemented status as a crazy cat lady. With a slight smile, she wondered how Scotty had fared the previous evening.

Lilly quickly gathered up the rest of her clothing, not sure what she would say to…whoever…but knowing that probably it would be best to say it fully clothed. As she stepped into her pants, she noticed the suitcase in the corner. It looked familiar…oddly familiar…

She crept to the suitcase and turned over the tag, hoping perhaps the man had a business card or something, so maybe she could disguise the fact that she had no idea who the hell he was. What she saw stopped her dead in her tracks.

Detective Scotty Valens, Homicide, Philadelphia Police Department.

Oh, SHIT!

The blood drained from her face, and she could have sworn her heart had stopped beating altogether. It was Scotty? Her bronzed mystery man was Scotty? Her partner? The closest thing she had to a best friend? The one who, until now, apparently, she had mostly viewed as a little brother to watch out for?

A string of obscenities flew out of Lilly's mouth as she hastily searched for her bra (finally finding it on top of the television), threw on the rest of her clothing, and started looking for her shoes. Knowing that she was in Scotty's room, that he was naked in the bathroom, made her want to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. She knew that they could never repeat what happened the previous night. They were partners. Professionals. And friends. They had been tired, drunk, and incredibly, indescribably stupid. It was, quite possibly, no…definitely…the worst mistake she'd ever made, and she hoped against hope that Scotty felt the same way. Regardless, she knew she couldn't face him yet, and she realized, with horror, that she would be spending the entire afternoon sealed in a plane with him, and she couldn't face that, either. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and frantically found the number for her travel agent. Lilly had to find some other flight, some other way to get back to Philly without having to deal with any of this crap until she was coherent enough to even begin to wrap her mind around her amazing, mind-boggling stupidity. It was Friday morning, they had the weekend ahead of them, and maybe, just maybe, they could conduct themselves with some degree of professional decorum the following Monday.

After a brief conversation with the travel agent, it was ascertained that a single seat remained on a flight to Philadelphia leaving in an hour and a half. Even though it would probably cost her a painful amount of her own money, Lilly didn't care. She had to get out. She called a cab, and, this done, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Having solved her immediate problems, Lilly scribbled a note and left it on top of Scotty's suitcase. The shower was still running as she clicked the door closed and hurried back down the hall to her own room.

Scotty climbed out of the shower, dried himself off, and wrapped the towel around his waist. He needed clean clothes; clothes that didn't smell like barbecue or whiskey, but in his haste to hide from Lilly in the bathroom, he had neglected to bring any with him. Quickly, he shaved, splashed some cologne on his face, and opened the door. The steam rushed out of the bathroom in a cloud ahead of him as he crept over to the suitcase, not wanting to disturb Lilly in case she was still sleeping. But when he got to the suitcase, something stopped him cold. A hastily scribbled note in familiar handwriting made her position on the issue perfectly clear.

Valens---

What happened in Nashville stays in Nashville. Catching an early flight. See you in Philly.

--Rush

Scotty's heart sank as he considered her words. It was undoubtedly for the best, but he'd hoped that perhaps they'd be able to at least talk things over before they went home, to avoid the inevitable awkwardness that no doubt awaited them back at the office. And, truth be told, he hadn't wanted it to end here. Not yet. He shook his head as he realized that one taste of Lilly Rush wasn't going to be enough for him, not now, not ever, and he had no fucking idea how he was going to work so closely with her from now on.

Chagrined, he fumbled for some aspirin as his headache returned in full force.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave me a review! Real Life is going to intrude in a major way next week, but I hope to have the next part up soon.