It was her first trip home in 30 hours, she realized. She had half an hour to high-tail it out of there and meet Valens down at the train station on 30th street. In her home, her clothes were manically separated, dark to light, underwear in the top drawer, tops in the next, and jeans in the next. Her closet played host to her more office oriented clothing, pressed button down tops and business suits. The one dress that she owned was a green silk one that hung on the back of her bedroom door.

She mechanically grabbed some black slacks and a pressed white top for later, and tee shirt and jeans just because. Besides her toothbrush and soap—Lilly didn't trust hotel soap—there was nothing else to bring.

Settling herself on her double bed, she picked up the photo of Renee from her night table. Renee had been stunningly beautiful, picturesque with her caramel skin, gray green eyes, and black hair. But beyond being as superficial as teenagers always were, Renee was the kind of girl that Lilly liked. As take-charge as a 16 year old could be, attempting valiantly to hold the pieces of her life together, whip-smart, observant, instinctive. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that her life had been ended so early—she might have had the misfortune of becoming a homicide detective. Maybe even working the cold ones, something Lilly needed for herself, but wouldn't dare wish on anyone else.

Forty minutes later, she was crammed up again on the aisle sear, next to Scotty. She never realized how tiny the space on Amtrak was until now, thinning her muscles to avoid touching him.

He noticed her discomfort and smiled at it in spite of himself. Valens recognized that he had been unreasonably angry at her for nothing, and now he kind of felt bad. Of course, Lilly didn't make the situation an more comfortable, any more warm, but he must have temporarily forgotten that he was dealing with Lilly Rush. The woman couldn't be warm for any extended amount of time, and it was time to resign himself to that fact.

He'd brought a peace offering, a bag full of Burger King for the two of them to share. "Hey, Lil," he called.

She turned and he saw that she, too, was holding a big bag of fast food. Hers was Taco Bell.

"I, uh, got you dinner."

"I, uh, got you dinner too," she mimicked him.

There was a brief uncomfortable silence, and Scotty was kind of worried. Four meals, and only two mouths. But he supposed there were many far worse problems.

"I feel like a taco," he lied. He hated taco bell.

"I feel like a burger," she replied, lying as well.

And so the two, sat, ate, and said nothing but the occasional grin that said everything.

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Far from the dive strip club where Jayla worked, was the Myles home. It was big enough to be called an estate, and as he neared it, Scotty wondered if it was one of those houses where he would have to be nervous about breaking things, and walk around without shoes. He hoped not.

The door opened. Randall Myles still had enough humility to get up and answer his own door. It told Scotty that there might just be a greater power.

Randal had a good fifteen years on the two of them, but it didn't stop him form undressing Rush with his eyes, and Scotty didn't like it. It wasn't like Ryan's blatant come-on's a few days ago—Ryan was a puppy. He had meant no harm. But Randall looked as if her would sooner swallow Lilly whole that talk to her, and he had a terrible urge to stand in front of her to shield her from him. But one look into her steel eyes told him that his heroic impulses were not needed. She could deal, could deal better than he could, most days.

"Detectives Rush, Valens."

His smile made Scotty flinch. And Randall was not looking anywhere near him- instead, his gaze, if it cold be called a "gaze" was glued on Rush.

"Sit, sit." The two sat. "Detective Rush, let me take your jacket." He didn't offer to take Scotty's.

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

"I must insist, you look warm."

Like hell she does. "No, I'm fine. Really."

"Miss Rush, it is perfectly acceptable to be too warm."

Valens had to cut in. It was something built inside his genetic code, a need to protect, "his women". Lilly may not have liked it, but Scotty counted her in that number of protection. "She said she's fine!"

Lilly inconspicuously laid a hand on Scotty's chest to restrain him. The guy wasn't required to talk to them. If having one-sided eye-sex with Lilly would have to be their in, then so be it.

"I actually am a bit warm, thank you."

She slid out of her coat, and handed it over, ignoring the eyes on her milky skin, hips, and breasts. Scotty, on the other hand, looked like he might kill him. Bless his little heart, Lilly thought. Scotty wondered if Randall had pulled the coat stunt with Renee, but finally decided that Renee had been a kid. It was no wonder that Jayla was paying for college on her own, and working at a bar. Valens respect for the stripper went up a few notches.

"Now, detective, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Randall still would not look at Scotty, but he accepted it. Just as Valens cowboy act worked with women, Lilly's sexy hard-to-get act worked with men.

"We're reinvestigating the 2003 death of Renee Hutchinson." Scotty wanted to smack the dreamy smile off of Randall's face, but restrained himself.

"Yes, yes, shame--she was so gorgeous." Randall licked his lips, and Scotty felt Lilly stiffen slightly beside him. Fucking slimeball. And if he snuck one more glance down his partners cleavage, he might just have to die.

"Well, gorgeous and all," Lilly recovered herself, "We know that she called you the day she died."

Randall's face was unreadable. "You're mistaken."

"Oh, come on. You remember. She called you because you had a baby with her mom."

"No."

"Yes, his name was James, and Renee knowing about it was going to ruin your life."

"It wasn't, because he wasn't my kid."

Lilly's eyes were wooden and her mind was spinning. This guy wasn't going to talk to her—she was a woman. Best duck out and let Valens get the details. Enter the overemotional, overzealous, female detective.

"Oh, but he was. You took advantage of Kate in 1985—"

"I don't need to take advantage of anyone."

"You took advantage of her, you tried to take advantage of Renee, and she wouldn't play ball, so you killed her. You knew she would screw up your perfect life, so you murdered a kid!"

"I most certainly didn't."

"You murdered a kid because she wouldn't do what you wanted. That why Jayla doesn't talk to you anymore?"

"Detective, you're getting a bit overexcited."

Scotty jumped in at will, recognizing the act. It was one of Lilly's best. "Lil? Lil, he's right, now, calm down."

Lilly whipped her head around, and stared Scotty down, hard. "Don't you speak to me like a child, what do I get next, the silent treatment?"

Scotty found inexplicable anger from somewhere deep inside him. He tackled his partner back. "The only one who gives the silent treatment is you!" Beads of infuriated sweat dripped down his forehead. "You decide when to rules apply and when they don't, and I'm the show pony. And I'm sick of it!"

Lilly fed off his energy, and got right up in his face. "You're the show pony? I have the eternal stigma of being the 'girl' and I'm tired of being gawked at when people find out I can actually function. I lead you around by the nose. You're the rookie cop! Not me. Need I list all your lapses in judgement?"

Scotty saw red, saw Ana and Chris, before doling out the final blow in a low, deadly voice. "It's no wonder you'll die alone. There ain't a man alive who would condescend to deal with you."

Lilly's eyes were swimming, half with summoned tears, and half from a feeling she couldn't place. "I have to use the facilities," she said, and ducked out, as had been her plan to begin with.

After her footsteps paled, Randall turned to Scotty and let out a low whistle. "Wow. Your partner's a cannon."

Scotty fumed, "She's got seniority, and won't ever let me forget my mistakes." It was way too close to the truth.

"But you like her. I can tell."

"I like that? Hostility ain't my scene, man." Like hell it wasn't.

"She's a sexy one. I couldn't work with that every day and not touch it."

Valens gave his jock smile. "Well, I mighta thought of dippin' in the company proceeds once or twice."

"As well you should. Men and women together in the workplace. There's times when a man just can't help himself."

"Was it like that with Kate?"

Randall gave a sly smile. "She was hot stuff. Had nothin' on her daughter, though."

Scotty had been grossed out before, but now wasn't because he was someone else. A sexist cop, a cop without empathy, a guy who could watch his beautiful partner walk out the door with tears in her eyes and not care. It wasn't the kind of man Scotty wanted to be, not by a long shot.

"So, did you get her pregnant?"

A good-humored smile. "Who knows, man?"

"So, did Renee call?"

"I already said she didn't."

It was a very thin line that Valens had to walk. Compel information, but still be a friend. "You're holdin' out on me. Her cell records say she called."

Randall seemed to consider, then shrugged. "Oh, hell. It ain't doing me no good, acting like I don't know anything. Renee didn't call me. Kate did, from Renee's phone."

And suddenly, it all made sense to him. The church. The florist. He mom's cell for thirty seconds. Kate had lost her cell phone and borrowed Renee's the day she died. "And what did she say?"

"She said she wanted to come over. She said she wanted to talk to me."

Randall is sitting on a recliner in his Philadelphia house, watching a game on mute behind Kate's head. Kate is clearly nervous, bobbing around like a cork, holding a letter in her hand.

"What the hell do I do? He knows its me, he's been talking to Renee, he knows—"

Randall shrugs hugely. "Own up. Own up and leave me out of it."

Kate is incensed. "Leave you out? You're just as responsible as I was! More! I was twenty two years old and you were my boss!"

Randall crans his neck, trying to get a better view of the game behind Kate's head. "You would leave me out, if you know what's good for your family."

"Don't you talk about them! You've messed them up enough…"

"Maybe I should leave for a few days. Come back after it's all blown over."

Kate should be angry, but she's too tired for it. "Yes, yes, go. I'll fix it."

We see her picking Renee's red cell phone out of her pocket. "James? No, it's not Renee…"

Scotty frowned, confused. "She talked to James? You serious?"

"Serious as a heart attack. But I never—I never thought she'd fix it like that. Her own daughter?"

Scotty rose, and Randall stood with him. Scotty would have preferred to touch a rattle snake, but shook his hand. "You tell that sexy partner of yours to call me any time, night or day."

With everything he had, Scotty swallowed his retort, and walked out of the front door.

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There was none of the rhetoric frequently enjoyed by the youngest Cold Case detectives that night in their hotel room. Lilly and Scotty still had on their Rush and Valens masks, as they sat on either side of the partition drawn before either of them were asleep. Scotty did not ask Lilly to go dancing as he had last time, did not speak to her, did not even acknowledge that there was a pretty woman ten feet away from him. As if afraid it would draw in pesky conversation, the TV was turned off, and on both sides of the room, the detectives were remembering bits of their staged argument.

There had been something dead about Lilly's face since then, it was dragging so low that if it was anyone else, Scotty would have worried about having to sweep pieces of it off the floor. But thank freaking god that Rush wasn't emotional. They could have systematically removed Scotty's knee caps with safety scissors, and Rush would have watched as idly as she might flip through a Cosmo magazine.

For three years, the two of them had been forging their paths in the Cold Case Squad, fighting for their roles within the partnership. But recently they had found their niche—Valens accepted that Rush wouldn't talk about her past, or her feelings, and would say horrible things if pushed to it. Rush accepted that Valens was cocky, slept with someone new every month, and made rookie mistakes.

Or at least, he's thought she did, but now, she wondered if she might just hold those mistakes against him. Ana, for one, last year. He hated to think about being called into the bosses office when he'd been caught in his lie. Lilly had been ice queen for three weeks after that, but she got over it.

That was the trouble with women. They said they forgot, but they never really forgot. Lilly's mousetrap mind had enough software to hold years and years if dirt on people. She might, if she liked, hold the fact that he had two slutty prom dates against him, after a fight with Alyssa. Or that he'd effectively lost the championship for his Little League team by striking out in the last inning when he was ten. Or whatever.

Stop being such a goddamn woman. She just said it to get the guy to talk. Scotty rolled over and peered out the cracked door. Whatever! No matter what she thinks, they made you a detective for a reason—because you see things. You know what you saw.

And Scotty did know what he had seen, lurking behind Lilly's ocean eyes. The truth. She didn't see him as a complete fuck-up, but she did see him as someone she needed to watch. The fuck-up and the ice queen. It was too damn bad they made such good partners, because Rush and Valens magnified every insecurity in each other.

On the other side of the partition, Lilly was treading dangerous water. She hated to think about dying alone—it was for women on Oprah, or in self help groups, neither of which were her. Lilly couldn't imagine airing out her dirty laundry on a talk show. "Hi, I'm Lilly, I'm a great homicide detective, but I'm not good at anything else, and my partner, who I'm sorta-kinda-not-really attracted to agrees with that. Lilly swallowed with the effort of swallowing lye, and turned her pillow so that the cool side touched her cheek. Her even breaths suggested sleeping, but Scotty knew better—the two of them were gridlocked in stalemate, and there was no telling who, if anyone, was going to win.