It had stopped raining, but Andy was already sopping wet.

She didn't care.

The tears tried to come in waves, waves that would slam into her with the helplessness of it all. Automatically, she kept replaying the scene in her mind – just like she did on every case – and all the things that could have went wrong jumbled for her attention.

It never failed to surprise her the times such as these when things went right.

But, she didn't want to succumb to them. Not here. After she composed herself, she'd go home and cry like a fool.

Times likes these she felt the most alone. Her solitary lifestyle never bothered her until the nights after a hostage situation. A shoulder to cry on would be nice. A sympathetic word. A hug.

But, she was a tough woman in an even tougher world. She needed to act like it. It wasn't like she hadn't done this before. Squaring her shoulders and wiping her eyes once again, she tried to get ahold of herself.

He could be dead. Right now. You could have seen it happen. And done nothing to stop it.

She could not ignore the voice in her mind. If she thought screaming aloud would silence it, she would do just that.

Andy tried to tell herself if it were anyone else in this office, she would react the same way. No one wanted to see a co-worker at the wrong end of a gun.

But, God bless her, she didn't know what she would have done if she had failed.

Carl stood there a moment debating on what to do, water dripping off the building from above, sprinkling his coat with water. He never did anything without calculating the pros and cons. And this was no different.

She had no clue he was back here, only feet away. All he had to do was silently walk back inside. No harm done.

Her shoulders shook. Not from the cold.

She was crying. Sobbing quietly, actually.

That did it. For some reason, the thought of her tears touched him like nothing else. So, she wasn't as cool and collected as her demeanor suggested.

She was just as terrified as he was.

And, he wanted to do something – anything! – to help her.

Andy heard a noise behind her. Before she could react, hurriedly wiping away tears, trying to think of an excuse to be standing sopping wet on the balcony, someone placed a coat over her shoulders.

She didn't even have to turn around to see who it was. The coat smelt just like him.

Normally, she would have been appalled that she had been caught standing in the rain, crying her eyes out.

But, this was not a normal day.

It would have been easy for her to shove her emotions away. To thank him quietly for the concern. To convince him – and maybe even herself – that she really was OK.

She couldn't turn around and look at him. That would be the worst. She couldn't handle meeting his eyes. Eyes that teased and cajoled and could turn stern on a dime.

While she was fighting this additional war within herself, almost hesitantly, he put both of his hands on her shoulders, standing oh-so-close behind her. Without thinking, she leaned back against him, craving his warmth and strength. It was such a natural reaction that should have startled her if she were in her right mind.

But, she was not.

His breath was warm against her hair, his arms automatically wrapping around her, holding her even closer. She squeezed her eyes shut to control the tears, to no avail.

It had been a long time – a really long time – since anyone had shown her this sort of compassion. And, it was almost as if a damn broke in her soul.

Turning around in his arms, she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. She cried for the ones she couldn't save in the past. She cried for the hopelessness that led so many people to make such an irrational decision to take another's life. And she cried for what could have been and should have been but never could be as he rocked her softly, quietly back and forth, the unfeeling Boston streets below.

There was nothing he could think to say. This woman who he had seen face down a gunman without batting a pretty little eyelash was weeping bitterly in his arms. Every word seemed paltry, tame, so for once, he kept his mouth shut, only wanting to take her pain, her tears and make them his own.

That's when he realized it for the first time. Not only was he scared for himself in that conference room, he was scared for her.

She'd always seemed so confident, so sure of herself, and honestly, he expected nothing else from anyone who surrounded him.

But, as she sobbed quietly, her fists curling and uncurling against his chest, he pressed his lips to her forehead, trying to soothe her, but not knowing how.

Even confidence had to take a holiday.

Andy didn't know how long they stayed that way. He held her long after her sobs had faded, and she clung to him almost as if he were the only tangible thing in this world that held her here. His slow, steady heartbeat was a testament to her abilities, and she couldn't help but feel some satisfaction.

He was alive.

Finally, she had to break the silence, to explain. "This . . . this always happens. After each hostage . . . situation." Her voice was hoarse from disuse.

He chuckled, and it rumbled in his chest against her cheek. "And here I thought I was special."

You are.

Andy's cleared her throat against that thought. This time, her voice was stronger, although she still clung to him. "I've never had to . . . had this happen. To someone I know. It is . . . I don't recommend it."

"Personally, I don't either. Especially from my point of view."

Now, it was Andy's turn to chuckle, albeit half-heartedly. "I never thought to ask you how you're doing."

"I'll probably renew my faith."

"I thought you're Jewish."

"I am. But, if anything will get your closer to God, it's having a Sig Sauer pointed at your head." He paused, taking a deep breath. "And, I have no idea how to thank you. For what you did in there." For a moment, he held her just that much tighter.

"Normally, I would say it's my job. I guess old habits die hard." Slowly, she was gathering her wits and her dignity about her. As much as she wanted to stay right here in his arms, she knew it was not a good idea. Reluctantly, she pulled away. "You could always give me a raise, you know. Hazard pay and all that." She joked to hide her discomfort.

Carl knew what she was doing. How he could read her so well at some times, he didn't know. She was reverting to the Andy he was accustomed to seeing on a day-to-day basis.

And, he didn't want to let her go. She felt good in his arms. It had been a long time since he'd held a woman like that, and it pricked his heart in a way he'd almost forgotten.

Although her eyes were red-rimmed and nose red from crying, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Her beauty was timeless, made more so by the fact that she didn't even acknowledge it.

Without thinking he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

His eyes were guarded, and Andy's breath caught in her throat at his touch.

His voice was deep when he spoke. "You're an amazing woman, you know." His fingers stopped at her neck, brushed along her pulse.

She just knew he could feel it jumping just underneath her skin.

Andy had been on the receiving end of suggestive looks from men of all shapes and sizes. But, the desire she saw on his face only scared her for the sheer fact that she knew it mirrored her own.

Warning bells went off in her head like a five-alarm fire was in progress.

"I . . . I really need to go." But, what she needed and what she wanted were two totally different things.

His hand dropped to his side, but he offered no apologies. "I have no idea how to thank you. Seriously."

"I'll tell you what I tell the others who've come to me over the years. You can thank me by living your life to the fullest. You've been given another chance at life. Live it. Breathe it. Never take it for granted."

He gave her a small smile. "Spoken like a woman who's faced her demons and made peace with them."

"I wouldn't wish my demons on anyone."

"Even Denny?"

She cocked her head. "Maybe Denny. He'd find my demons quite amusing."

Carl chuckled, his eyes once again searching hers. "I guess I'm not straying from my boundaries when I say you are more than welcome to take . . ."

She pointed at him, glad they had retreated to safer ground. "If you tell me I can have a day off to recuperate, I'll dig up one of Denny's guns in his office and shoot you myself!"

He grinned. "I don't doubt it."

Reluctantly, Andy slid his coat from her shoulders and offered it to him. As much as she would have liked to take it home and sleep in it tonight . . .

He took it from her and tossed it over his shoulder wordlessly.

Andy didn't know what else to say. Certainly not what was floating around in her head at this instant. "Good night, Carl. Hope you have a better day tomorrow."

"I hope I do, too."

He watched her walk back into the building, back ramrod straight, head up, just as he was accustomed to seeing.

Now, if he could just return to the feelings of indifference he was accustomed to, then maybe his life could return to some semblance of normal.

He thought of his reaction at seeing her walk into the room, the gun briefly pointed in her direction. He thought of the way she felt in his arms, the way he wanted to soothe her tears away. And the way her pulse danced in her throat, her eyes wary, yet wanting, just the feel of her skin causing a reaction he hadn't had to such an interaction in a really, really long time.

No. Normal was not within his reach.