A/N: While Kite called Lilly's white cat "Tripod," as far as I know the cat's real name was never established. As such, I've taken some creative liberties.
Disclaimer: I've come up with several relatively clever disclaimers over the years. Pick your favorite.
Chapter Eleven
Life After You
Scotty was lying on top of her. Skin sliding against skin, his hot and smooth. Her eager hands roamed up his back and over the sculpted sweep of his shoulders, tracing the contours of well-formed deltoids and triceps that bunched and rippled with his movements.
"See, Lil?" She felt his words against her cheek. "Told you it wasn't too late."
"Mmmm…I should've listened." His rapid breathing tickled her ear, and she shivered.
"Yeah. You should have." He sounded flirtatiously petulant. "I'm pretty smart, y'know."
"I know." It came out as a groan. His trademark cockiness, once both amusing and annoying, was now strangely, inexplicably hot. Or maybe that was just the way he continued to move against her, to touch her, tease her, torment her…but not to kiss her, which was what her whole body ached for him to do.
Once again, she felt him smirk, this time against her shoulder. The feather-light contact of lips and teeth tore a gasp from her throat.
"Loyal...great cop...ain't too bad to look at…" His voice was low and husky against her sensitive flesh, the words skimming from her collarbone toward the notch at the base of her throat. Her response was a wordless whimper. Oh, kiss me, damn you. I know what you're capable of.
"Been told I got a good sense of humor..." He skated down the center of her chest, the whisper of his skin against hers still a delicate, almost ticklish, caress. Lilly wasn't sure how much more of this sweet agony she could endure. She wasn't quite to the point of begging him, at least not out loud, but she was close.
"Modest, too." He brushed enticingly against the swell of her breasts.
Gritting her teeth, she arched to meet him. "Scotty…" Please, for the love of God, just…kiss…me…
"You want somethin', Lil?" He did it again, this time with exquisite, maddening slowness.
Her inhibition hung in shreds. "Oh, God, Scotty, please."
"Please what?" She could tell by his shit-eating smirk that he knew what she wanted, but he was going to make her say it. Out loud. To him. God. The man was merciless.
"Please…"
"C'mon, Lil. Tell me." His voice was as tender and teasing as his touch.
"Kiss me, Scotty," she whined with what little breath this delicious torture had left her. "Kiss me. Kiss me. Like...like you did last night. Just kiss me. Please."
Her fingers tangled in his hair in an effort to coax him to do her bidding…but its texture gave her pause. Scotty's raven locks had grown out long enough for their soft natural waves to take effect, but the strands slipping between her fingers right now were shorter, stick-straight, and free of whatever product he always used to keep them in place.
His body was vibrating with a strange sound, too. A deep, primal sound, almost a growl, but more like a…a purr.
A purr?
That didn't seem right.
Curiosity forced Lilly to pry open stubborn eyelids and lift her reluctant head a few inches off the pillow. There, she found herself nose to nose with Olivia, who perched haughtily on her sternum, orange-striped tail twitching with impatience. Lilly yelped in astonishment, then yanked the sheets up over her shoulders.
Oh, good, you're awake, the cat's expression seemed to read. Now feed me.
With a groan, Lilly closed her eyes and let her head drop back onto the pillow, where she tried to chase after the fleeting fragments of that dream, that really, really hot dream, where she and Scotty were just about to—
Wait.
Scotty?
"Dammit!" Her shooting bolt upright displaced Olivia, who stalked to the foot of the bed and yowled her disapproval. Lilly shoved unruly blond hair behind her shoulders with a shaky hand that then fluttered to her chest, where her frenzied heartbeat galloped against her palm.
It hadn't happened. Not really. She wasn't even in Philly anymore; she was back home in Washington, with her cats, and Scotty was, thankfully, not in her bed. Although he may as well have been, given how vivid that dream was. Good God. Apparently the clues she'd unearthed from a single scorching kiss had inspired her subconscious to extrapolate a bit, to come up with a solid lead as to what that fire, that passion, might feel like across her shoulders, her neck, her chest…
Gah. Okay. So her subconscious had had its fun. But she was awake now, and fully in control, and she wasn't going to think about this. About him. About him like this. About how one moment could change everything, how three little words and one hell of a kiss could tilt her universe on its axis, could make her feel things and want things and look at every moment of the last seven years in an entirely different light, and...
The alarm clock yanked Lilly's half-crazed mind off the bunny trail it insisted on going down, and she breathed a shaky sigh of relief as she smacked the shrill electronic chirps into silence, then grabbed the victim's photo from its customary spot at the base of the bedside lamp. Surely looking at the winsome face of a college student murdered on her way home for summer break would provide the perspective she needed, the distraction from the untold number of worms that still slithered out of the can Scotty had pried open last night.
But it wasn't Melissa Winters whose photo Lilly found in her hand. It was Shane Lucas.
Bangs puffing up with her heavy sigh, Lilly studied the photo, unable to ignore how Shane's careless sandy hair, brilliant blue eyes, and boyish grin gnawed at her gut. No matter how noble-sounding the reason, leaving a case unsolved, denying justice to a victim who'd waited long enough…that just didn't sit right with her.
Maybe her old colleagues in Philly would still be working the case. Knowing them, they'd interpret any sort of Federal directive to do otherwise as a mere speed bump rather than the roadblock it was meant to be. Lilly gave a slight smile. If there was any way at all to do right by Shane, she knew that squad would find it.
But she couldn't deny that not being able to find it with them had just taken some of the shine off that FBI badge she was so proud of.
Olivia yowled again, echoed by a slightly higher-pitched meow from Casey, her white, three-legged second-in-command. With a wry smile, Lilly slipped the photo of Shane Lucas into some files she needed to take back to the office and swung her legs over the side of the bed. There was no sense dwelling on the past. This was what she'd decided she wanted, and she was damn well going to make the best of it.
"C'mon, girls." The cats' ears perked up at the sound of Lilly's voice. "Let's get breakfast."
Casey and Olivia were already halfway down the hall.
The fluorescent lights, like thousands of tiny needles pricking his eyes, stopped Scotty in his tracks on the way into the bullpen. Instinctively, he squinted, but even that tiny movement brought a wave of stabbing pain. It was as though a tiny, pissed-off man with a pickax was dwelling just inside his head, swinging the sharp point into the side of his skull at the slightest provocation.
His hand flying to his temple and an involuntary groan escaping his lips, Scotty forced himself to keep walking. He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his sunglasses, but quickly abandoned the quest, not wanting to broadcast to the whole office just how hung over he was. Not that his bloodshot eyes and sickly pallor would be much camouflage.
Upon reaching his desk, he wriggled out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. The scrape of metal legs on tile floor made him cringe as he pulled the chair out, and the little man with the pickax heaved another mighty swing. Swearing under his breath, Scotty sat down heavily and rubbed his temples. It had been a long time since he'd come to work in such a sorry state. In fact, the only reason he hadn't taken a sick day was that he didn't want to give Lilly the satisfaction. Now, though, knowing she had to be lurking around here somewhere, he was beginning to have second thoughts.
Through eyes squeezed half-shut against the too-bright lights and rays of mocking sunshine, Scotty scanned the office, deciding that a seen threat was better than an unseen one. So far, though, everything was business as usual. Kat and Nick were in the kitchen, deeply embroiled in their daily argument over the morning pastries, while Will was stationed at his desk, filling out paperwork with a mysterious smile on his face.
There was no sign of Lilly. Or her partner, for that matter. Scotty found it odd that, even in his hung-over state, he'd beaten Lil into the office. He could count on one hand the number of times that had happened. Oh, well. Maybe Nichols wasn't a morning person.
Couldn't blame the guy. Mornings were pure evil.
Gingerly, Scotty leaned down and rummaged in the bottom drawer of his desk for the bottle of aspirin he'd kept stashed there for God alone knew how long. Damn things were probably expired by now, but he hoped against hope there was enough juice left in a bottle of pills that were best before…
…August, 2007.
Dammit.
He shook a couple into the palm of his hand anyway, added a couple extra to compensate for the elderly quality of the medication, then washed it all down with a swig of coffee, which he may or may not have liberally dosed with a hair of the dog before coming in to work this morning.
"C'mon, Miller, I'm hungry!" Vera was all but chasing Kat out of the kitchen, his voice even louder and more grating than usual.
"From the looks of that diamond you were showin' off last night, you gotta fit your ass into a tux sometime in the not-so-distant future." Kat settled into her chair with her hard-won donut and a triumphant smirk. "I'm just lookin' out for ya."
Vera grumbled something incoherent as he sat down at his own desk, but his eyes lit up with a perverse sense of amusement when he saw Scotty. "Well, well! Mornin', Sunshine!"
"Fuck off, Nick."
Scotty felt his partner's appraising eyes flitting over him. "You had anything to eat today?" she asked.
Before he could even consider the question, let alone answer it, a healthy chunk of the donut appeared on a napkin in front of him. The very idea of food, especially that many sugar-coated carbs, sent his stomach roiling, but at the Joker-like smile still plastered across Vera's face, Scotty picked up the donut, took a large bite, and chewed with exaggerated enjoyment. "Thanks, partner."
Vera looked from him to the smirking Kat and rolled his eyes. "Perfect."
"Serves you right," Kat shot back.
"Morning, everyone."
Scotty grimaced. God, even Stillman's voice was louder than usual this morning. He could've sworn he heard Vera snort with quiet laughter, but he couldn't be bothered to check for sure.
Instead, he polished off the rest of the disputed donut, forced his eyes out of their pained squint, and trained them on his boss. Reporting to work hung over hadn't gone so well for him in the past, and Scotty wasn't sure how thick his ice with the lieutenant was at the moment.
"We've had some new developments with the Lucas job." Stillman's steely gaze flitted around the little group.
Vera looked up with a frown. "Hey, where are the Feds?"
"That's one of the developments," Stillman replied. "They're gone."
Scotty's brow creased with his fogged brain's efforts to absorb what the lieutenant had just said. "Wait…gone?"
"Back to D. C. Their ASAC pulled them off this case." Stillman gave a wry smile. "Seems we got a little too close to Parker Ericksen for their comfort."
"Of course we got close to him." Kat looked up at the boss, disbelief etched across her features. "He's our prime suspect."
Stillman rubbed a hand over the top of his head. "Well, sounds like the Feds were hopin' for a different outcome."
"Them and me both, pal," Scotty muttered, teeth clenched.
"So what's the order, John?" Jeffries asked. "Are we supposed to just…let this go?"
Stillman did an about-face and peered at the murder board. "Well, officially, yes."
The predictable splutters of disbelief and outrage drove Scotty's fingers to his temples once more. Mercifully, the lieutenant quieted the din with the wave of a hand.
"Unofficially…" Stillman turned back toward their little cluster of desks, his expression suggesting he knew exactly how the situation was going to unfold and had already seized control, "…we're still investigating a murder. We need to keep our heads down, fly under the radar, and build the case without Ericksen. Are we clear?"
The boss kept talking, but his words turned into a fuzzy stream of nonsensical syllables as Scotty blinked into his coffee mug, gazing at the bright white reflection of the overhead lights on the deep brown surface of his beverage. Even that version of the light was too bright, dammit.
Lilly was gone. Gone. She'd hopped into the waiting chariot of that fancy, Federal-ass Suburban and whisked herself back to D. C., back to her new job, her new life, without even a moment's hesitation.
She hadn't changed her mind.
She wasn't coming back.
Well, then.
He sat there staring into his coffee, dreading the waves of pain he was sure were about to crash over his head like they had four months ago when her empty desk first became a reality, but he was pleasantly surprised when they didn't come. In fact, he…didn't feel much of anything. Just a dull, empty numbness. He supposed he'd reached the point in this particular fight where he'd already absorbed so many punches that this latest blow didn't even register.
Scotty wasn't naïve enough to think this blissful blank feeling would last forever, but for as long as it did, he'd take it and run like hell with it. They had a body and a doer and a massive mess of a case, and he welcomed whatever curveballs that case cared to throw at him. Maybe if he kept his mind occupied with the case itself, he'd be able to forget what havoc it had already wreaked in his life. Maybe having told Lilly and being soundly rejected would finally give him some closure. Maybe somehow he'd emerge from this stronger. Smarter.
Maybe…
"Hey. Scotty."
It took him a moment to process that Kat was talking to him, and another one to jerk his attention away from his coffee and back to the squad room. The boss had returned to his office, and Vera and Jeffries were nowhere to be seen. Had they already left? How much had he missed? How long had Miller been trying to get his attention, anyway?
He blinked up at his partner, and she came into focus, looking simultaneously concerned, amused, and irritated.
"You okay?" she asked.
A sheepish smile quirked his lips. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."
"Here." She held out a bottle of water, the concern and amusement taking over for the irritation, at least temporarily. "You think that nasty-ass coffee's gonna help this, you're even more hung over than I thought."
"Thanks." The bottle was cold from the fridge and fogged with condensation. He unscrewed the cap and took a few long, grateful swallows, then looked around the largely empty squad room. "And, uh…thanks." He cleared his throat. "Y'know…for last night."
"Sure, Scotty." Kat offered a slight smile. "Anything you need. You know that."
Scotty pushed his chair back, the scraping still setting his teeth on edge, but the tiny man inside his skull must have been placated by either by the past-its-prime aspirin, the doctored coffee, or the cold water. Maybe all three. In any event, his inter-cranial interloper seemed capable now of only the most halfhearted of pickax swings.
As he stood, Scotty summoned what he could of a grin and flashed it in his partner's direction. "I think what I need most right now is to catch the son of a bitch who killed Shane Lucas."
"Think we might be able to do that." His partner's eyes took on a proud shine as she thrust a piece of paper into his hand.
Scotty frowned at the hastily-scribbled notation, still flecked with a bit of sugar glaze. "What's this?"
"Address of another neighbor of Shane's who saw Parker Ericksen's Jeep parked out front during our murder window." Kat shouldered her purse. "May not be able to make the case with Ericksen, but…no one said we can't make the case around him."
Grabbing the water from his desk and his jacket from the back of the chair, Scotty followed his partner out, feeling more than a touch of perverse pleasure at charging after this case. Special Agent Rush may have been too high and mighty for a nobody like Shane Lucas, but her old squad certainly wasn't. They'd get out there in the dirt, pound the pavement, and get it done.
And maybe, if Lilly was so willing to skip off to Washington without even a backward glance…then maybe the woman he loved never even existed at all.
