Klaire hadn't gone outside since those cops questioned her. She sat on the couch wearing pair of shorts and a shirt underneath the bathrobe wrapped around her with a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows with a few tablespoons of Brandy staring out the big window. Klaire had stopped counting after her third cup so she guessed this was her fifth or sixth, all with a bit more Brandy than the last one. She hadn't been able to sleep for that long being rudely awaken by a prison nightmare. She had started to cry and then half an hour later had thought about calling Tristan, he usually understood but what was supposed to tell him? 'Hey Tristan I had this horrible prison nightmare thanks to one of my husband's friends sending me an original, antique clock that was stolen three years ago. Oh and well we're on the topic, my husband Scott Lenti is actually the most wanted criminal and the business thing is just a cover up'. Another half an hour later, she had decided to call Scott but he hadn't answered which for some reason just brought more tears to her eyes. So, she made some hot chocolate, took out the Brandy and poured some in. She had drunken a bit more than half the bottle but she wasn't drunk, she was sure of it. Drunken people could barely ever what had happened or what they were doing. She wiped another tear. The tears hadn't stopped, though she wasn't sure she was crying. Maybe, sweating out all the liquid through the eyes; not quite as logical as the first thought but better than thinking she was crying. She wanted some one to talk to but she wasn't dare going to even step outside. The doorbell rang. She sniffled and wiped another tear before setting the mug down on the table, the bathrobe sliding off her as she got up and walked to the door. She stood at the door, her hand wrapped around the doorknob for a few seconds before taking a deep breathe and opening the door, expecting it to be Tristan or some one on her floor. Her eyes widened and she lost her breathe at the sight of Jaime.

"Hey" Jaime said, looking around. Klaire didn't say anything, didn't even move.

"May I come in?" Jaime asked. A squeaking sound came in and Jaime walked in, surveying the place.

"What are you doing here?" Klaire asked, closing the door and walking towards him.

"I just came to talk to you" Jaime answered, noticing the almost empty Brandy bottle and the mug.

"You're a cop!" Klaire pointed out.

"And?" Jaime asked.

"Cops don't just go to someone place to talk!" Klaire disagreed.

"Off-duty" Jaime told her, sitting on the couch.

"Off-duty or on, cops don't just want to talk…especially not with me" Klaire insisted.

"Well I do" Jaime said. Klaire looked back at the door wondering why she hadn't asked him to go yet. She sighed and took a seat next to him, careful to keep her distance from him.

"So, you just want to talk?" Klaire asked.

"About the clock" Jaime answered.

"Ah-ha! I knew it!" Klaire angrily said.

"So, what about the clock?" Jaime asked. Klaire was about to tell him to buzz off but when she looked at him, a truthful response came out, "I don't exactly know who gave me the clock"

"You really don't know?" Jaime asked.

"Let's just say it came from a friend of a special guy" Klaire answered.

"Great guy" Jaime sarcastically muttered.

"I know right?" Klaire muttered with a small smile. She sighed, her smile disappearing.

"So who's the guy?" Jaime asked.

"Um...Scott is my…" Klaire stopped herself. Could she really tell Jaime Scott was her husband? She didn't want to lie to him but she didn't want him to leave. She wanted to keep him around a bit longer.

"Coworker! Yeah, he works at a big law firm and everything!" Klaire answered and then looked down, feeling bad.

"You work for a big law firm?" Jaime asked.

"Well, yeah, kind of. I used to be his secretary, we have known each other for a while and he needed a secretary so he gave me the job" Klaire answered, looking away.

"So, what happened?" Jaime asked.

"Well, he got drunk, lost his phone at a party and one of his friends sent me a text to go pick up my surprise at the dock and I thought it was from so I went to the dock, got the box and was about to go home when those cops stopped me" Klaire answered.

"So you have no idea who sent you the box?" Jaime asked. Klaire shook her head.

"You do realize how much trouble this clock could get you in?" Jaime asked. That's when Klaire started to cry. She cursed herself; the tears had stopped when Jaime came in but now with the possibility of jail and with the nightmare still fresh in her mind, the tears had apparently decided to make an encore appearance and they wouldn't leave. Jaime hugged her, pulling her close.

"Please don't send me to prison!" Klaire begged, "I couldn't go back to a place like that! I just can't, please!" Jaime rubbed her back and she hid her face in his shirt. After almost forty minutes of crying, Klaire stopped and closed her eyes. Jaime carried her up the stairs bridal style and then set her down, tucking her into bed. Jaime had almost it to the door when he heard footsteps.

"Jaime?" Klaire called. He went back to the stairs to check on her, hearing a thud.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Jaime asked.

"Stay with me!" Klaire softly ordered. Jaime stared at her for a few seconds and then helped her up.

"Please" she added, staring up into his eyes. She was obviously drunk but would apparently follow him anywhere. He sighed, carrying her back upstairs. He though lying with Klaire for a few minutes would be enough but she put her head on his chest, grabbing his shirt.

"Klaire" she said.

"What?" Jaime asked.

"I never told you my name, it's Klaire" Klaire informed him.

"Claire" he muttered.

"With a K" Klaire added before snuggling up closer to Jaime and drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

"Klaire" he muttered, smiling down at her. Even though she was drunk, she was still pretty loveable.