Lil looks like she got run over by an eighteen-wheeler. No kiddin'. She's got shadows under her eyes, her nose is red, and she's limpin' around with that bulky cast completely encasin' her left leg. She's dressed simply in a pair of joggin' shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt. She looks downright awful.

"You're lookin' better," I say anyway, grinnin' at her as she leans in her doorway.

"I look horrible," she answers, her eyes a little cloudy. She manages a small, tired smile and adds, "Thanks anyway. What are you doing here?"

I shrug. "I wanted to check up on my partner. I can't do that?"

Lil shrugs. "I'm fine. You didn't have to come. You could have called."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," I say, only half-truthfully. I also just wanted to see her. But I'll probably get struck by lightning before I tell her that.

"Well, I'm sick," she says, sniffling. "Can you believe my luck? First I break my leg and nearly die from smoke inhalation and then I come down with a cold. Figures."

I can't help but smile. She just looks so adorable, even if she looks miserable. There probably ain't a thing in the world that can make Lil look anythin' short of gorgeous.

"I brought coffee," I say, holdin' up one of the steamin' cups. But then I frown and pull back slightly. "I don't know if it's good for you, what with you bein' sick and all."

She shoots me a mock-glare and snatches the coffee right outta my hand. "I don't care. I've been drinking soup all day. I need some energy."

I shrug and smile. "Whatever you say, Lil."

She takes a long sip of coffee and sighs contentedly, a little gleam returnin' to her eyes. "You want to come in?"

I pretend like I haven't been waitin' for her to ask. "Sure. Why not." She walks back into her house and I follow, shuttin' the door firmly behind me. With a long sigh, she flops down on her couch, legs crossed, and sips the coffee again. I sit down beside her, not touchin', and eye the blankets. "You sleep here?"

"Last night," she answers with another sigh. "And all morning. I haven't been up to looking at the case files." She gives the files a half-hearted touch, shifting them from their position on the coffee table.

I move them away from her. "That's good. You should be restin'."

"I've been resting for almost a week now, Scotty," she says. "I'm getting bored."

"Then come back," I say. I'm more than ready to see her back across from me in the bullpen. "But not before you're ready," I add firmly.

"Yeah, I will. Tomorrow maybe," she replies, leaning back into the couch. "But I feel awful right now."

I smile. "You look awful. Can I get you anythin'? Medicine?"

She shakes her head tiredly. "Already took some about an hour ago. Apparently I took the wrong one because I'm starting to get kind of drowsy."

"At least you know it's workin'."

She smiles. "There's that."

We sit for a moment in silence. Lil takes another swallow of her coffee, and I do the same to mine. I already drank half of mine on the way to Lil's though, so pretty soon I'm empty-handed and left with nothin' to do but watch her. Which ain't a bad thing at all. God, she's beautiful. I love the way the light plays with her hair and her eyes. I also love the way she's dressed: so casual, so…not Lil. It ain't bad. In fact, it's kinda sexy. Which is a bad thing, seein' as I have enough trouble keepin' my hands to myself when she's in her work clothes. I just about sit on my hands as I wait for her to finish her coffee.

"What are you doing here?" she asks eventually. "It's a Friday night. Don't you have plans?"

I shrug. "Nah. Not really."

"No date?" she teases. "What happened to you, Casanova?"

You happened to me, gorgeous. I smile to myself and answer, "Nothin'. Just didn't feel like it."

She sounds carefully neutral. "Oh? That's nice."

Hah, I think. You jealous, Lil? She is. She admitted it to me that night at the bar. It makes me grin like a fool rememberin' it.

"No plans for you either, huh?" I say, leanin' my head on my hand, elbow on the back of the couch.

She laughs. "Does it look like I'm in any shape for plans?"

I grin. "You don't look too bad."

"Liar."

I shrug. "Think what you want. But anyway, if you don't have plans, wanna do somethin'?"

"Something?" she repeats, soundin' interested. "Like what?"

I shrug again. "Watch a movie, have some dinner—that sort of thing. In the house, of course."

She looks at me for a moment, her expression unreadable, before noddin' slowly. "Yeah. That sounds nice."

Great. I try not to look too pleased with myself as I collect her now-empty coffee cup and head to the kitchen. "You want somethin' while I'm back here?"

She laughs. "Yeah, make yourself at home, why don't you."

I smile too and throw the coffee cups away before openin' her refrigerator. Which, predictably, is empty. "What did you eat this mornin'?" I call, my brow furrowin'.

"I might have had some soup," she calls back. "Or that might have been yesterday."

I frown. "You're sick. You should be eatin' right."

"I haven't exactly had time or energy to run to the supermarket," she remarked wryly. "Don't worry, I've been eating enough."

"No wonder you're sick," I mutter, closin' the refrigerator. I open her cabinets and manage to rustle up some oatmeal for her and cereal for myself. Bringin' the food back to the couch, I hand her the bowl and drop down next to her.

"I have oatmeal?" she asks in bemusement.

I shrug. "It was behind all those other empty boxes in your pantry. Speakin' of which, you should clean that thing out."

She grins. "I don't have time."

"Make some," I say, "'cause I think I saw some mold growin' in there."

"Ooh, dangerous." She grins as she licks her spoon, and I can't help but stare. God, just watchin' her lick her spoon like that makes my mouth go dry. Does she have any idea how absolutely sexy she is? Obviously not, or she wouldn't be torturin' me like this.

I clear my throat and wrench my gaze away from her with an effort. "So. You got any interestin' movies?"

She shakes her head. "I don't watch movies usually. What with murders to solve and all."

Figures. "Well," I ask, "what d'you like? Horror? Mystery? Drama?"

She laughs, a bit hoarsely. "Don't we get enough of all three of those on the job? I like watching things I don't get everyday."

"Comedy?" I guess. When Lil makes a face, I laugh. Sure, we get comedy in the bullpen all the time. Usually in the form of Miller beatin' the crap outta Vera for donuts, but it's comedy all the same. So that can't be it. I tilt my head and think for another moment before sayin', "So what else is there?"

She ducks her head, lookin' almost embarrassed. "Well…I wouldn't be telling you at all if I wasn't all doped up on medicine, okay?"

Oh, excuses again. I'm startin' to enjoy 'em—a lot. "Sure." Whatever she needs to tell herself.

A slight blush makes her cheeks all rosy, and she mutters quickly, "Romance."

I smile. Of course. So Lil and so not Lil at the same time. Just the perfect blend of the Lil I see in work and the one sittin' in front of me right now. But her answer also sends a pang of sadness through me, knowin' that she has pretty much zero romance in her life when she deserves so much more.

"That ain't anythin' to be embarrassed about," I say, grinnin' at her. "I like 'em too sometimes."

At that, she laughs. "Really. Scotty Valens, watching romance flicks?"

"Only when they're good," I reply, smilin' broadly at her. "So, you got any?"

She nods slowly. "I might. An old one, I think, my mom's. Ghost. You ever watch it?"

I remember the movie vaguely, rememberin' that Elisa used to gush about it endlessly. "Yeah, once or twice."

She throws off the blankets and goes over to the box below her TV. "It's probably in here somewhere," she mutters, diggin' through the box's contents. I raise my eyebrows when she pulls out old file after old file.

"You keep the case files?" I ask, bemused.

"Copies," she answers. "I don't know why. I just like to have them around, you know? Mementos, sort of. So I remember those people when no one else will."

I fight the urge to get up and envelop her in a tight hug. She has got to have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known. God, how can she be so freakin' gorgeous and so kind and not have someone lovin' her to death? And then I smile faintly as I remember she does—me. She just doesn't know it yet.

"Aha!" she exclaims, wavin' the dusty movie case at me. "Found it." She pops it in and turns the TV on before comin' back to sit beside me. She slurps her oatmeal as the credits come on, and I can't help but smile at how adorable she looks, sittin' there buried in blankets and slurpin' oatmeal like a little kid. How the hell have I been resistin' a woman like this for five years? I've got better self-control than I thought.

We settle into the movie silently, sittin' on our respective sides of the couch. I hope she can't tell I'm itchin' to pull her over into my arms. I hope she can't tell I'm wantin' to cuddle with her more than I've wanted anythin' in a long, long time. I watch her more than I watch the movie, just tracin' the lines of her face. She's just so beautiful. How is it I never get tired of lookin' at her? Everythin' from her straight nose to her strong jaw that clenches when she's gettin' stubborn to her full, red lips is perfect. And her eyes…

She turns suddenly to look at me, and our eyes catch, and I see—I see she wants to touch me just as bad as I want to touch her. It makes a shiver go through me from head to toe, knowin' Lil wants it just as much as I do. And it breaks down every last bit of self-control I have left.

"C'mere," I say, openin' my arms to her invitingly. "Romantic movies are better shared, don'tcha think?"

She stares at me incredulously (and longingly, I think). "What?"

I give her my cocky smile and say, "Well, why not? You're all doped up on medication, and I'm feelin' all sorry for you. So we'll chalk it up to that."

She looks at me for another long moment. I send her what I hope is a puppy-dog look, and a slow smile spreads across her face.

"We seem to be making a lot of excuses these days," she says, still not movin'.

I shrug and smile charmingly—at least, I hope it's charmin'. "I ain't complainin'. Are you?"

Just as I expect, she shakes her head. "Nah. It's…nice."

Nice as in it's nice that we're actin' like more than partners? Nice as in it's nice that we can be completely open with each other with our little excuses? Hell yeah. I smile. "Yeah, it's nice."

I hold out my arms to her again, and this time, she moves over, pullin' the blanket with her. She sits just barely touchin' me, my arm around her shoulder, but I figure since we're already this far, we might as well go all the way. So I pull her flush with my body, shiverin' a little when I feel her turn toward me, when I feel her breath tickle my neck. She seems a little surprised at first, but I guess she convinces herself pretty quick she's all drugged up 'cause she snuggles closer and puts an arm around my stomach as we stretch out on the couch. I stiffen at her touch, incredulous, but she seems to be chalkin' it up to the medication, so I do too. I mean, it ain't everyday I get to cuddle on the couch with my partner. So I gotta enjoy it while I can.

She's so warm. Now that she's in my arms, I know that any chance of concentratin' on the movie has flown out the window. I'm half sure I'm dreamin', so I just tighten my arms around her, intendin' to enjoy it while I can until either I wake up or Lil comes to her senses and boots me out the door. But the excuse thing's been workin' pretty well for us the past three weeks, so I figure I'll be comfortable for a while yet.

When the movie starts gettin' all romantic, I just barely feel Lil sigh against me, the movement sendin' a vibration through my own chest. She watches them kiss on the screen and sighs again, almost imperceptibly. I resist the intense urge to flip her around in my arms and reenact what's goin' on in the movie, to show her that she ain't gotta be gettin' all wistful over a couple of movie characters when a real-life romance is starin' her right in the face. But I don't. Of course I don't.

Instead, to my immense shock, Lil's the one who turns in my arms and presses her lips against mine. Before my scrambled brain can fully understand what's goin' on, I'm kissin' her back hard, my arms wrapped around her, pressin' her closer to me, breathin' in her scent. It's our third time kissin' but nothin's changed; it's still as breathtakin' as the first time. I forget about my shock and focus instead on how she tastes and how she feels. In a smooth move, I have her pinned underneath me, and her arms are wrapped around my neck, and we ain't showin' any signs of stoppin'. God, she tastes good.

I press deeper toward her, lickin' her lips gently, and she groans against me, which makes me groan. Strugglin' to keep at least some semblance of control, I try to pull back to catch my breath, but her fingers tangle in my hair and pull me closer. I groan again against her lips, unable to believe how gorgeous she is, unable to believe I have my absolutely stunning partner pinned underneath me. She slides her hand from my hair to my neck, then down to my side, trailin' a line of fire as she touches my chest and stomach. Unable to stop myself, I reach for her too, my hand brushin' the hem of her shirt, pushin' it up. My fingers touch the smooth skin of her stomach, and I can't help but whisper her name against her lips, feelin' a swell of love for her.

Abruptly, she pushes back away from me, her eyes snappin' open, wide with alarm. With a supreme effort, I pull back, still hoverin' above her but not touchin'.

"Lil?" I ask, wonderin' in disappointment if she's regrettin' it now. But she'd seemed to enjoy it just as much as I had.

She doesn't meet my eyes, her cheeks all adorably flushed from all the kissin' and touchin'. "Sorry. I…I'm gonna get you all sick too."

No, it ain't that she's worried about. I don't know what she stopped for, but I know it ain't that. So I just look down at her, tryin' to catch her eyes while at the same time tryin' to ignore how amazin' she looks pinned under me.

"Lil?" I try again, hopin' I force the truth outta her. Is it…maybe it's me? Maybe she ain't as desperate for company as I thought she was?

She stubbornly stares past me at the ceiling. "Sorry. I don't want you getting sick too."

Bull. I know she's lyin'. But why? We got our excuses—she's on meds, I'm feelin' all sorry for her—so why lie? Why need to?

"You're on drugs," I say gently, starin' at her averted eyes to avoid starin' at her half-parted lips. "You can say anythin', Lil, and I ain't gonna hold it against you."

She smiles faintly, almost bitterly. "Excuses. We've been making a lot of them lately, haven't we?"

I nod slowly. "Yeah, we have. You regrettin' it?"

She shakes her head. "No. And that's the problem."

I pull back from her a little further, confused. "I don't get it. What's the problem?"

"You are," she whispers, soundin' miserable.

I am? I am? I pull back from her sharply, sittin' up. "What do you mean, Lil?"

My voice betrays my hurt. I wince as Lil instantly gets this guilty look in her eyes, and she sneaks a glance at me. Our eyes meet for half a second before hers dart away again, and a sigh ripples through her.

"You're the problem," she repeats, soundin' not accusin' but kinda sad and surprised all at once. I wait for her to elaborate, but it seems like she's said all she will on that topic. I move off her and sit beside her feet, makin' sure not to touch her. We're both breathin' a bit heavily into the silence, still partially caught up in the moment. Starin' at the wall, I try to muddle out what the hell Lil means by callin' me the problem. Does she mean I ain't what she wants? Does she mean I'm…forcin' her or somethin'? Dear God, I ain't forcin' her, am I? She doesn't think I'm assaultin' her, does she? I sneak a worried glance at her, but she doesn't seem to be scared or angry. Just lost in her own thoughts, far away.

We both seem to realize at the same time that the movie's still runnin'. It gives us both a reason to avoid talkin' for the moment, so we turn in relief toward the TV, studiously avertin' our eyes. We stare at the screen, but I ain't really seein' the movie and I'm sure Lil ain't either. What does she mean, I'm the problem?

The doorbell rings. Both of us jerk at the sound, and both of us start up at the same time, mutterin', "I'll get it." But Lil still looks like crap and she ain't in any shape to walk, what with that cast around her leg. So she sits back down silently, and I go for the door.

I open to the door to find a man in a business suit, a bouquet of flowers springin' from his hands. I take one look at him and figure he's not here to sell anythin'; he's here 'cause he knows Lil. And those flowers sure ain't the flowers of friends.

He looks surprised to see me. His brow furrows as he frowns, and he says, a bit sharply, "Who're you?"

"Scotty Valens," I say slowly, leanin' on the door. Who is this guy? And what the hell is he doin' on Lil's doorsteps with flowers?

"Who is it?" Lil calls from in the house. I don't answer her 'cause I honestly don't know.

The man's face twists in sudden bitterness. "You her new boyfriend then?"

And it hits me: this guy's Trevor. Explains the flowers, the jealousy runnin' across his face, everythin'. He must be comin' back to make his peace with Lil. Or to beg her to come back to him.

Or maybe she's already come back to him. The thought hits me like a punch, and what she said suddenly makes sense. Of course. She's already back with him, so now I'm the third wheel. I'm a problem. We might've had a hot moment on the couch, but she's feelin' guilty about it 'cause of Trevor. So she pushed me away.

I feel hurt. Intensely hurt. God, was she just playin' with me? This whole time, all the fun with the excuses, all those kisses and moments, has she just been playin' me? Has none of this been real?

"No," I say flatly, clenchin' my fist. "I'm her partner from work. I just wanted to come by to check up on her because she hasn't been back to the station in a few days." I can almost feel Lil's confusion behind me. "I was just about to leave."

His entire face lightens up, and his hand clenches around the bouquet. "I got amends to make," he says, smilin' as he holds up the flowers. "Lil's my girlfriend and all."

"Yeah," I say, forcin' a smile too. "Good luck with that." Good luck with wooin' back the woman I've been in love with since the second I laid eyes on her. I hope I sound sincere.

He clears his throat. "So…uh, could you let her know I'm here?"

I nod mechanically, still smilin' that damn fake smile. "Yeah. Sure. Wait here a second."

Duckin' back inside, I shut the door. I can feel Lil's gaze borin' in the back of my neck, but I ignore it pointedly. Instead, I slip on my coat, my badge, and my gun from where I left them on her hallway table. Tuckin' my gun securely at my hip, I finally look up at her.

She's lookin' at me with that confused expression of hers, the one she gets when she can't figure somethin' out. "Who was it?" she asks again.

"Your boyfriend," I say, prayin' I don't sound bitter. "He wants to talk to you, so I'm gonna head off now."

"Boyfriend?" she repeats, soundin' perfectly clueless. "Who?"

Is she a good actress or what? Usually, she can't lie worth crap outside her role as detective, but I almost believe her right then. I almost believe that she's just as confused by Trevor turnin' up as I am. Almost.

I resist the urge to snap Who else? and instead just answer, "Trevor. See you at work, Lil."

And before she can answer, I'm out the door, past Trevor, and into the street. My fists clench, I resist the urge to punch somethin' and instead walk off the steam in quick, tight strides. Damn it. Damn it. And just when I think this is goin' somewhere, that Lil and I might actually be somethin'…

But I know, deep down, that Lil and I will never be an us. These three weeks, as amazin' as they've been, have been built on excuses. First the drink, then the adrenaline, and today Lil's medicine. We made excuses, and we got away from ourselves. We kissed and pretended and maybe even loved, but none of it was true. None of it was real.

I sigh heavily, an ache in my chest. God, I ain't supposed to be feelin' this way. I ain't supposed to be in love with my partner. I ain't supposed to be wishin' her boyfriend would just get hit by a car already.

No more excuses, I swear to myself. No more foolin' around with Lil, pretendin' we could actually be somethin'. No more of this more than partners thing. Just strictly professional. Just Detectives Rush and Valens.

I shut up my feelings. Lilly Rush ain't gonna hurt me anymore. She ain't ever gonna touch me again.