A/N: Is Scotty angsting? But of course. Is his angst what I thought it would be? Definitely not.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own these characters, since Kat is the only one who needs a spoon for her coffee.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Precious Pain

Everybody's got a hunger
No matter where they are
Everybody clings to their own fear
Everybody hides some scar

Scotty had no idea how long they sat there on the couch, clinging to one another for dear life. He'd wanted to help Lilly, honest he had, but it seemed to him that she'd been the one holding him up at first instead of the other way around, the way it should have been. Then, though…toward the end…that's when she'd finally let him in enough to see just how badly she'd been hurt, and he'd held her for what seemed like hours as she finally allowed herself to feel the pain of what had happened so long ago.

Gradually, the tears had subsided, and after a few moments of silence, he'd looked down and realized that, once again, she'd fallen asleep. He sat there for a few minutes, just holding her, stroking her hair, pressing the occasional kiss to the top of her head, and realizing that Jeffries was right: her sharing with him what had happened to her had been a gift, an indescribably precious one that he would treasure for the rest of his life. She'd told him the thing that had been torturing her since they opened this case, and, Scotty knew, since long before then. She'd let him into the most guarded, most closed-off place in her heart and allowed him to see her at her weakest, her most vulnerable…she trusted him enough to tell him what had happened.

For a few moments, Scotty just basked in that, but his gratitude toward her for actually telling him rapidly began to give way to heartbreak, and anger, over the fact that there had been something horrendous for her to tell him in the first place, something that it had taken her years to entrust to him, and he wasn't sure she would have even now had the case not brought it to a head. And he was someone she loved, someone she trusted, someone he hoped she knew would never, ever hurt her. But years ago, she'd been forced, at gunpoint, to tell that same secret to a madman. Yes, she'd done it to get the confession, Scotty knew that, and he knew her well enough to know that she'd weighed her options, and telling George was ultimately a choice she made. But he also knew what had gone on up there, how close she came to becoming that eleventh victim, and he knew that, no matter what she liked to think…staring down the barrel of George's gun, Lilly hadn't had much of a choice. That bastard had forced his way into the most vulnerable place in her heart for his own sick sense of self-gratification. No wonder she'd been so reluctant to tell him. No wonder the memories were so horribly painful this time around. No wonder she'd had that nightmare.

That was when Scotty realized he needed to be alone. Dark thoughts were tumbling rapidly through his mind, emotions were swirling in his heart, and Lilly needed to sleep. She didn't need his disturbance over what had happened to her to interrupt her much-needed rest. So, after a moment's careful consideration, he slid his arm under her knees, rose from the couch, and started to carry her up the stairs.

When the fifth step creaked, as it always did, Lilly stirred and moaned slightly, wrapping her arms even tighter around his neck, but her eyes never opened, and Scotty sighed with relief. Once upstairs, he gently laid her in the bed, draped the covers over her once more, then feathered a kiss across her lips and crept out of the room. He was sure glad she was sleeping, because he knew in his heart he wouldn't sleep another wink that night.

Gently pulling the door shut, he headed back downstairs, where he leaned against the windowsill and stared out into the dark streets, his heart and mind churning with memories, memories which he'd thought he'd drowned in scotch and blocked out long ago.

George made me tell him…that's how he hunted me.

Scotty sighed. Her 49. Of course. How the hell had he not managed to put two and two together? He'd known about that from her first interview with George. He and Stillman had been watching from Observation when George had dropped the bomb on Lilly that he'd read it, and that knowledge had disturbed Scotty then, but in the weeks that followed, Elisa's death had turned his world upside-down, and he hadn't given Lilly and her long-ago trauma much thought until George resurfaced.

The day they'd discovered the skulls, Scotty had had a chilling sense of foreboding, like something awful was about to happen. He didn't usually get those and didn't put much stock in them when he did, but he had to admit that this one was too powerful to ignore. That was why he'd pounced on the opportunity to apologize to Lilly. That sense of foreboding had something to do with her, and if there was something terrible about to happen, he'd be damned if his misstep with Christina was standing between them. He'd learned to take the opportunity to have important conversations whenever possible, because you never knew how long you had, never knew when, or if, you'd get another chance.

The apology had gone about as well as he could have expected, and afterwards, he'd tried to dismiss that premonition he had, but it had increased when Stillman warned Lilly to stay in the office, had reached a fever pitch when he kept calling her phone and getting bumped to voicemail, and when they reached George's farmhouse, he finally knew what he'd been fearing all day. Lilly was in the attic. Alone. With George.

For perhaps the only time in his life, Scotty had been the cautious one that night. He'd wanted Stillman to obey the rules; George had been chillingly clear as to what would happen if they violated the perimeter, but the boss wasn't having any of it. "I'm not losin' her, too, Scotty," he'd said, then cocked his rifle and headed in.

Those minutes after Stillman left had been the longest minutes of Scotty's life. They'd stretched into years…decades, even. He'd avoided his colleagues and gone off by himself, his eyes never leaving that farmhouse, willing Lilly to not give up, willing Stillman to not do anything stupid, willing himself to just keep standing, keep watching, no matter what happened…

…and then he heard the three gunshots.

He'd slumped beside the squad car, nearly in hysterics. Mere months after losing Elisa…now he'd lost Lilly, too. He realized then that even though Lilly and Elisa were two entirely different people who meant entirely different things to him…the pain was the same. It had welled up inside him until he nearly choked on it, his hands shaking, his tears unchecked…

…and then Stillman's voice came crackling over the radio. "Shots fired, suspect down, premises secured."

Suspect down. Nothing about an officer. Stillman's voice was calm, official, level like always. If anything had happened to Lilly, Scotty knew that wouldn't have been the case. Suddenly feeling foolish for panicking when absolutely nothing had happened to her, he hastily scrubbed the tears from his cheeks and tried to pull himself together before returning to stand watch with his colleagues.

But something had happened to Lilly, he realized now. Nothing physical, he knew that from the moments that followed, when Lilly had come out of the house, almost in a trance, saying nothing to anyone, meeting his eyes only briefly. He'd wanted to touch her, wanted to reach out and pull her into an embrace just to convince himself that she was real, that she wasn't just a figment of his imagination, but something had held him back. She'd changed somehow while she was in there, and she gave off an air of being simply untouchable.

Now he knew why. She'd been forced to relive her nightmare…for George. George Marks, of all people. George, who hadn't wanted to help, who hadn't wanted to share her burdens, who'd just wanted to get off on her fear and her panic before he shot her dead like all the rest. He could only imagine what had gone on up there in that attic, and the thought of what George had done to her made Scotty burn with rage as he stared out the window, both with George and with himself.

"You hurt her, George…I'll murder you," he'd threatened on the phone that night, and if he'd had any inkling of what that sick bastard had put his Lilly through in that attic, he'd have charged up there right alongside Stillman, perimeter be damned, and gone through with his threat then and there. But there was no need. Lilly had taken care of George herself.

But now, as the rage and helplessness began to build again, Scotty found himself wishing that son of a bitch were still alive so he could murder him. Because he had hurt Lilly by making her relive that nightmare, by holding a gun to her head and threatening to kill her unless she told him everything that had happened, down to the most painful details.

Waves of guilt and regret washed over him as he stood there at the window. If he'd known, had any idea at all, that Lilly had been forced to talk about it with George, he never would have pressed her. No wonder she'd fought so hard to keep her secrets. No wonder she'd all but run away from him when he'd asked. It didn't make a damn bit of difference why he'd asked her, he'd still asked. And that had been enough. By asking her what had happened to her so long ago, he'd made her relive not only that horror, but the one that had happened to her much more recently. He'd wanted more than anything to help her, but he'd only made it worse.

The sound of softly padding footsteps cut through his maelstrom of self-loathing, and he turned to see Lilly standing a few feet away from him, still clad in his shirt, her hair cascading over her shoulders, the moonlight bathing her in an almost ethereal glow.

"Scotty?" she asked softly, her eyes searching, almost evaluating him.

"Yeah," he replied huskily as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

Lilly's heart sank at his appearance. It was just as she'd feared. He was worse off for her having told him. Knowing what had happened was tearing him apart even more than not knowing. Dammit.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I just thought telling you would…"

"You better as hell not be apologizin'," he muttered darkly, almost glaring at her. "You ain't the one who screwed up."

Aha. So this was the route he'd taken, Lilly realized with relief. He was blaming himself. Of course he was blaming himself. Textbook Scotty. This, she decided, even in her weakened state, even in the ocean of loneliness she'd felt when she'd awakened a few minutes before and found an empty bed, this, she could handle.

Silently, she closed the gap between them and draped her arms over his bare shoulders, staying far enough back that she could look him square in the eye. She felt him flinch slightly at the contact, but she didn't let up, and gradually, he relaxed somewhat, though he still eyed her almost suspiciously.

"This isn't your fault, Scotty," she informed him gently.

"I did to you what he did," Scotty replied, his voice heavier than she'd ever heard it, and Lilly blinked in confusion.

"What…who did, Scotty?" she asked slowly, ignoring her pounding heart and swirling thoughts.

"George," Scotty spat the name out like it was toxic. "He made you tell him what happened to you. And I swear to God, Lil, if I'd had any idea, I never woulda--"

"Stop it," Lilly ordered almost sharply, placing a finger to his lips. "You didn't force me to talk about it. You didn't hold a gun to my head. I chose to tell you because I thought it was the right thing to do. You wanted to help me, that's all you've ever wanted...and I wanted to let you."

The lump in his throat too large for him to speak, Scotty merely nodded. What in the world had he ever done to deserve the love of this woman? It simply astounded him.

"Come to bed," she pleaded, her eyes wide and bright with unshed tears. "I just need you to hold me for a while."

Scotty sighed. That he could do. Without another word, he let her take his hand and lead him back up the stairs.

He still didn't sleep another wink and he wasn't sure Lilly did, either. But they lay there until sunup, their arms around each other, Lilly pillowing her head on his shoulder and Scotty being reassured by the soft tickle of her breath across his chest. For the moment, it was enough.

The next morning, they both rose and dressed for work, still dragging a bit, but feeling much, much better than they had the night before. At least, Lilly knew she did. The nightmare had come, she'd dealt with it…and for the first time in her life, she'd called for help and someone had been there. Scotty had been there for her. Just like he'd always said he would be. Why the hell had she doubted him? Again? Would she never learn?

Despite the horrors she'd relived the night before, a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and Lilly felt surprisingly peaceful, maybe even happy…well, not happy, not until Annie's box was back on the shelf, but close to it. This was nothing like it had been after she'd told George. That night, she'd gone home and stared out the window until sunup, trembling from the trauma of what had happened, both that night and another spring night decades earlier. Stillman had driven her home and offered to sit with her for a while, but she'd politely declined, and she'd known from the look in Scotty's eyes that he'd have done the same, but she couldn't be around anyone that night. She was terrified, traumatized, and disgusted with what she'd done in that attic, and needed to reassure herself that, despite the fact that she'd taken a life, what George had said about her wasn't true. She wasn't like him. They weren't the same, or anything close to it.

But this morning…there was none of that. She felt that her burdens had finally been lifted, her handcuffs were off, and she was free. Free to do her job without fear that the memories would overwhelm her, free to go to work and not hide from her colleagues anymore. The whole squad didn't need to know what happened to her, nor would they ask. The one person who had needed to know now did, and she didn't have to worry about the strain her running from the truth would put on their relationship. Indeed, after all that, she'd finally stopped running.

Her peace, however, was dampened by the look on Scotty's face as they got ready to go in to work. That weight that had lifted from her shoulders seemed to have settled squarely on his. That was not what she'd hoped to accomplish, and frankly, she had no idea what to do about it. She hadn't meant for him to carry it, but, with a wry grin, she realized that it was Scotty, and this was what he did. He needed to process what had happened to her, she knew that, and he probably needed some space to do it.

When they got to the office, Vera and Jeffries informed her that they'd brought in Prater already and he was in the interview room waiting for someone. Anyone.

Lilly cast a glance in Stillman's direction, meeting his eyes squarely. She'd stopped running, she'd had several hours' sleep, and she was more ready for this interview than anything in her life.

Stillman studied Lilly carefully. She looked worlds better than she had the night before, that was for sure. She'd evidently gone home and slept, as he'd known she would the minute she stopped trying to fight it, and she looked…well, not relaxed, still grimly determined, but it was a peaceful, in-control, on-top-of things determination rather than the determination to run and hide that he'd seen in days past. Rush was right. She was ready.

"Go get 'im, Lil," Stillman said quietly, slapping the file into her hand.

Scotty emerged from the kitchen just then, having poured himself a cup of coffee, taken a couple grateful sips, and feeling marginally better. Lilly had definitely improved since the night before; she looked a bit more rested, and that heart-wrenching haunted look in her eyes was gone. Part of Scotty was relieved that the dark cloud that had been hanging over her since Saturday night had been dispelled, but another part of him was keenly aware of how heavily that dark cloud had settled over him. His anxiety over what had happened to her had been replaced by his dark thoughts of the night before, and daylight hadn't done much to dispel them, nor had the prospect of one of them interviewing Prater. During the course of the investigation, Scotty had uncovered the disturbing truth of just what kind of individual they'd be dealing with, and after what he'd learned the night before, after the raw, gut-wrenching pain Lilly had allowed him to see, and after knowing that George had forced her to go through that for his own perverse pleasure, he was certain Lilly wouldn't have any part of the interview. Who knew what the man would do to her? Scotty was pretty sure Prater didn't know Lilly's past, but the object of a confession was to get the details. Every last sickening detail, no matter how horrifying or twisted. It was their job. And with this case, knowing the similarities between Annie's murder and Lilly's attack…that would just force Lilly to relive it again.

So when he saw Stillman slap the file into her hand, Scotty's eyes widened in shock. How the hell could Boss possibly be letting her do this?

Scotty's mind raced with the possibilities as he glanced incredulously from Stillman to Lilly and back again. If Boss had any idea what they'd been through the night before, no way in hell would he let Lilly take a step into that interview room. There was no way he could communicate that, no way he'd break Lilly's confidence, but it was becoming clear to Scotty that he was the only one who knew the details. He had to be. Oh, Boss knew Lil had a 49, but if he knew what was in that 49? No way.

Increasingly frantic, Scotty did the only thing he could do, which was cross the office in about a step and stand defiantly between Lilly and the door to the interview room.

"No way," he said softly, folding his arms across his chest.

Lilly sighed in frustration. "Scotty," she began.

He didn't budge. "Not without me. You ain't even gonna think about doin' this without me," he declared, casting a desperate glance toward Stillman for backup. The boss hadn't gone completely off his rocker, had he?

Carefully, Stillman gave his detective the once-over. Valens looked better than he had the night before, no doubt about that. The swelling on his jaw had gone down, and now it was merely a dark shade of purple, not as obvious as it might have been on someone with lighter skin, but still there, still a testament to how far out of hand things had truly gotten. Scotty's eyes, though…his eyes were what made Stillman's decision for him. They were like two pieces of obsidian, haunted by something unseen, swirling with grief and anger and other things Stillman couldn't quite identify, but enough to make the right choice abundantly clear.

"Sorry, Scotty, I can't do it," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Boss," Scotty started to argue, then stepped closer to Stillman, ignoring Lilly's icy glare. "You can't let her go in there. Alone. With him," he insisted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, hoping his tone and the look in his eyes would convey the exact reason why. Surely you ain't forgettin' about George.

"I've got this, Boss," Lilly insisted, casting another brief glare at Scotty. She was ready for this, dammit, and if he insisted on hovering over her while she was trying to do her job, even though she knew exactly why he was hovering and couldn't really blame him for it, so help her, she'd--

Stillman studied Scotty once more, and in that moment, realized why his detective was so adamant. It wasn't that he was still worried about Lilly because he didn't know what had happened to her…no…now it seemed he was worried because he did know.

"She won't be alone," Stillman reassured Scotty, then raised his voice loud enough to be heard by the entire office. "Miller?" he called.

"Yeah, Boss?" a rejuvenated Kat answered.

"Feel like gettin' a confession?" he asked.

Kat's dark eyes lit up with eagerness as she studied Stillman, making sure he wasn't kidding.

"Absolutely," she replied, and this caused Vera's head to turn. He looked from her to Stillman and back to her again.

"Boss," he started to protest. Surely Stillman couldn't be suggesting that Kat, the mother of a ten-year-old girl whom Vera had recently realized, to his amazement, that he loved nearly as much as her mother, be in that interview room with someone who preyed on ten-year-old girls.

Stillman looked back and forth from Vera to Scotty. "You two aren't goin' anywhere near that interview room," he announced. "Not until those bruises fade."

Scotty and Vera glared briefly at one another, then turned their glares onto Stillman.

"You're welcome to watch from Observation," he informed them coolly, as he followed Lilly and Kat in. "We all will."

He held the door open for the squad, and they traipsed in, Scotty and Vera still glaring at one another like petulant schoolchildren. Stillman hesitated briefly as they entered the observation room, then said quietly, "They're ready for this. And if they prove that they're not, they'll be yanked faster than you can blink. Understood?"

Scotty nodded, somewhat mollified, and followed Vera into Observation.

Getting confessions was always a mixed bag, Scotty mused as they watched Lilly and Kat enter the room, where Prater sat almost smugly at the table. Sometimes, the doers would betray nothing; occasionally, they'd lawyer up, though not often, and sometimes…sometimes they were just waiting to tell. Their guilty consciences had been eating at them for years, decades, even, and all it took was pushing the right button to get them to spill their guts.

But Scotty could tell just by looking at Prater that he fell into another category altogether: the sick bastard was almost proud of what he'd done. That shit-eating grin on Prater's face told Scotty that Lilly wouldn't have to work hard to get this confession, but the knot of dread in the pit of his stomach told him that it might be difficult for her in an entirely different way.

Kat began by placing the photos of the three victims on the table in front of Prater, one by one, like she was dealing cards.

"Any of these look familiar?" she asked him, fixing him with the most lethal glare any of them had ever seen from her.

Prater picked up the pictures one by one, caressing the edge of each with a fingertip almost proudly, and Scotty fought back a wave of nausea. He was beginning to realize the wisdom, perhaps, of Stillman not letting him in that interrogation room, because even if he hadn't had a personal reason, this bastard was asking to get his face slammed into the table. Just asking.

"What about this one?" Lilly asked, pointing to Annie's school photo.

"Yes…the blonde…" Prater reminisced almost fondly. "Charming little girl."

"What did you do to her?" Kat demanded as she leaned on the table and got right in his face, her fury barely beneath the surface.

"Same thing I did to all of them," he said quietly. "Bought a candy bar, then took her back to my car…"

"Did she fight back?" Lilly asked, her voice steely, her eyes like ice.

Prater smiled, a sick, twisted leer that made Scotty's stomach lurch with revulsion. "Oh, yes," he replied. "Quite the little fighter, that one. Made it all the more…satisfying," he finished, turning his leer onto Lilly.

Scotty gripped the windowsill so hard his knuckles turned white. That leer. He'd seen it before, and he knew that even though Lilly's face betrayed no emotion, she was remembering the same thing.

"You sick son of a bitch," he muttered, almost launching himself through the glass, but found himself restrained by the firm hand of Stillman, who met his eyes with a stern, yet compassionate gaze.

"She's got this," he reminded Scotty. "They've both got this."

Something about the way Stillman was looking at him, something in his tone of voice gave Scotty pause, at least for the moment. This wasn't just a glib expression of blind faith that his favorite detective would always be on top of things and in control, that she was perfect and could do no wrong and would let nothing shake her. No, Scotty realized as he peered into the steely depths of his boss's eyes…good God…Stillman did know. Perhaps he didn't know everything, but Scotty could tell beyond the shadow of a doubt that Stillman hadn't forgotten George, he hadn't forgotten that Lilly had a 49, and, if Scotty wasn't mistaken, Stillman even knew what that 49 contained. Well, he's ahead of me, Scotty mused wryly as the anger left him. I ain't got it in me to look at that.

The rest of the interview passed in a blur as Scotty's mind raced with all the new information he'd suddenly uncovered, and before he knew it, Lilly was sliding the legal pad across the table toward Prater, a flicker of unassailable triumph in her otherwise expressionless blue eyes. Meeting her gaze, Scotty could tell she sensed his eyes on her even though she couldn't see them, and then she turned her attention back to Prater, who was scrawling his signature across the bottom of his confession almost as a gloat. Not bothering to waste another minute of her time looking at this pathetic waste of life, Lilly instead met Kat's eyes. The two women exchanged a glance that said a million words, and then Lilly nodded to Kat. With a sense of grim triumph and a strength Scotty didn't know his partner possessed, she hauled the large man to his feet, called him a couple of gratuitously nasty names, and slapped him in handcuffs, hauling him out the door with the power of a hurricane. Vera immediately pounced and grabbed Prater's other elbow, but Scotty could tell from the look in his partner's eyes that, though she didn't mind Vera helping her, she could have hauled six Praters off to jail unassisted.

After Kat and Vera returned from lockup, having handed Prater over to the officers there, the detectives spent the rest of the day catching up on paperwork. The frenzied pace of the investigation had left little time for filling out interview reports and all the other i-dotting and t-crossing that normally drove them all insane.

But this time, after this case…a little paperwork seemed to be just what they needed. They worked together in companionable silence, each with his or her own thoughts about the case, but the mood in the office was lighter than it had been in days, and with each line they scribbled, with each glance they gave one another, the ugliness of the case gradually faded. Scotty knew that all was well when he and Vera began a friendly argument about whether Philly's offensive brilliance or the Cowboys' defensive collapse had led to the Eagles' improbable victory over Dallas, and when Kat and Jeffries began snarking one another over God alone knew what. Even Lilly had joined in, earning surprised glances from the others, and Scotty couldn't help but smile a bit. The case was over, and Lilly was much, much better.

He wished he could say the same for himself.

As the afternoon wore on, the paperwork got finished, the boxes got packed up, and Stillman made the announcement that the detectives, after such a horrifying job, were all to take the next couple days off. Normally, such a suggestion would have been met with an outcry, but Scotty noticed his colleagues all glancing gratefully at one another and not saying a word. Stillman said, with some reluctance, that he'd be calling them in if there was anything that simply couldn't wait, but he was hoping against hope that that wouldn't be the case.

"Ready to go?" Lilly asked Scotty as she shrugged into her coat. "I'm starved…wanna try that new Thai place?"

"I…gotta stay back," he said hesitantly. "Boss is waitin' on that new fax machine to get here, and he wanted me to help him figure it out." It was the truth; Stillman had requested help with the new machine the week before, but delivery had been delayed, and Scotty knew there was a chance it might arrive yet that evening. That wasn't the real reason, though, and he was pretty sure Lilly could figure that out.

Lilly searched his eyes, wondering why her boyfriend was being so evasive. He clearly wasn't okay yet, and she realized that, although getting Prater's confession, putting that box on the shelf, and seeing Annie Potter and those two other girls grinning at her was enough to get her back to her old self, with what she'd told Scotty, she'd be a fool not to think he needed some time to process it. At least, she hoped that's all it was.

"Okay," she finally agreed. "I'll pick us up some dinner…see you later?" she asked him hopefully.

Scotty merely nodded, and she tossed him another concerned glance, then headed out.

A few minutes after she left, the fax machine arrived, and Scotty helped Stillman unpack it and get it set up. The two worked in companionable silence, Stillman thumbing through the three-inch thick, multi-lingual instruction manual while Scotty poked his way around the machine and finally figured out which combination of buttons would actually send a fax.

"Looks like it's all ready to go, Boss," Scotty announced as the machine purred contentedly and spit out a perfect fax.

"Well, that saved me a bundle of time," Stillman replied gratefully, tossing the instruction manual into a file cabinet, then turning back to face Scotty, who was studying the machine pensively, seemingly wrestling with something.

"What's on your mind, Scotty?" he asked, his voice kind.

"Lil told me last night," Scotty began hesitantly. "About…her 49."

Stillman nodded as his suspicions were confirmed. "I was hopin' she might get around to that," he remarked casually.

"You knew all along," Scotty continued slowly, not quite sure how to address this sensitive subject with his boss.

Stillman nodded and rubbed a hand over the top of his head. "Wish I didn't…but I do."

"When did you…y'know…?" Scotty began, hoping the boss could fill in the gaps.

"When we were after George," Stillman replied quietly, still feeling a chill run down his spine, even nearly three years removed from that experience. "I read her 49. I didn't want to, but…I had to know what we were dealing with so I could decide whether or not to keep Lil on the case."

"And you kept her on it," Scotty replied, frowning in mystification.

Stillman smiled slightly. "There wasn't a decision to make, Scotty. If I took her off, she'd know why…and she'd never have forgiven me."

Scotty chuckled despite the gravity of the situation. "I hear that, Boss," he said, remembering the look in Lilly's eyes that morning when he'd tried to keep her out of the interview room.

"You had second thoughts about it," Scotty realized suddenly. "You knew he'd go after her."

"I did," Stillman admitted. "I kept thinkin' I shoulda taken her off that job, 'cause if anything had happened to her, I'd…" he shuddered involuntarily under another wave of guilt. He'd blamed himself off and on for keeping her on that case, for leaving her unattended in the office with merely instructions to stay put. As though that would stop his headstrong detective.

"I know, Boss," Scotty replied softly, suddenly realizing why Stillman had been so determined that night, why he'd charged into the attic despite George's instructions...

Stillman looked reflective for a moment, then shuddered again. "We almost lost her, Scotty," he commented, his eyes dark and heavy with what nearly had been a reality.

The swirling thoughts Scotty had had the night before returned with a vengeance, only this time, they focused not on George, but on Lilly, and all the things that never would have happened if George had emerged victorious. That night in Nashville, when that precious glass of scotch was all he'd needed to lower his inhibitions enough to do the stupidest, yet most brilliant thing he'd ever done in his life. That afternoon in Stillman's office, when they'd given into the passion they just couldn't fight. The way she looked when she came down the stairs the night of their first date. The look in her eyes that night in New York on the bridge. All those lazy Sunday afternoons with the cats and silly movies. That weekend trip they'd taken in July to the Jersey shore, when the sight of Lilly in a bikini had rendered him incapable of words with more than one syllable for about a day and a half. Those trips to Jones' with the co-workers. His grandmother's birthday party. The way he'd finally emerged from the dark, cold loneliness of shattered dreams and life without Elisa and had embraced a new dream for the future, one filled with light and hope and happiness…the images and memories blurred together, faster and faster, crystallizing into the shudder-inducing realization of how horribly, painfully close he'd come to losing all that.

Stillman watched Scotty and observed the change in his demeanor. "You need to be with her," he announced after a long moment. "You need to go home and enjoy her. I think we've figured this thing out," he said with a chuckle, gesturing to the fax machine.

"Yeah," Scotty replied absently, the churning memories making him suddenly only dimly aware of his boss's presence. Without another word, he grabbed his coat and nearly sprinted out of the office.

Boss was right. He needed to be with Lilly.

When the front door creaked open, Lilly couldn't keep her heart from leaping just a little. She'd been telling herself Scotty just needed some time to come to terms with things, just needed some space to process…but she was still relieved that he'd actually come over. She hadn't been sure he would, and, well…she needed him.

"Hey," she said lightly as she came over to where he was shrugging out of his overcoat and hanging it on the rack. "You hungry? I've already eaten, but there's some Pad Thai in the fridge."

She lightly trailed her fingers up his arms, but he startled her by abruptly turning around and, without a word, embracing her so tightly she could barely breathe, burying his face in her shoulder and inhaling deeply, as though she was his oxygen.

"Scotty?" she asked in confusion, returning his embrace with a bit less ferocity.

He pulled away, but still gripped her tightly, his eyes hollow, his expression tortured, and her heart sank as she recognized that look. It was the same look he'd had the night she left that attic. The same look he'd had during the last months with Elisa. The look she'd been hoping to wipe from his features since the minute they opened this case. The same damn look.

"Scotty," she began hastily, hoping to snatch him before he sunk down into that abyss, the abyss that was part of the reason she'd never told him in the first place. "Telling you helped me." He didn't answer, so she took that as leave to continue. "That confession today…if I were still locking it all inside, if I hadn't told you, if you hadn't been there…I wouldn't have gotten through it. Just knowing you were on the other side of that glass helped me more than you'll ever know."

Love flooded through her heart as she realized how much he truly had helped her, how much he'd been able to save her from already, and she just couldn't suppress her smile, couldn't stop that grin from spreading across her face. God knew it was the wrong time, the most inappropriate reaction she could possibly be having, but to be loved, like this, by someone so wonderful…she couldn't contain her joy.

"I just…love you so much," she said, hoping that simple statement would convey everything she was feeling.

Scotty knew Lilly had been talking, and he'd tried his damnedest to follow her words, but he just couldn't. He couldn't concentrate on what she was saying when she was looking at him like that, her blue eyes wide and shining with love, her smile sparkling brilliantly, her cheeks flushed with life and health and youth, when she could have so easily been the one in that body bag instead of George, and as he continued to study this beautiful creature he'd almost lost to the jaws of death…suddenly being with her wasn't enough. Not when she had on that gorgeous form-fitting sweater he loved so much, not when her gentle curves were beckoning his hands and the faint aroma of that flowery shampoo was filling his senses and making his head spin. More than being with her, he needed to feel her wildly pounding heart, to hear the way she screamed his name when she climaxed, to breathe deeply of her intoxicating scent, to feel the sweet pressure of her fingers digging into his back, to lose himself in the heat and the sweat and the madness of sex. He needed to know she was alive and well, plain and simple. Needed the reassurance that she was still there.

Lilly saw the change in his eyes, from dark sorrow to something blazing with desire and determination that spoke not just of lust, not even of need, but of a nearly insatiable hunger. For her. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the thrill of just how badly he seemed to need her at that moment, as he gazed at her, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths, his smoldering eyes clearly communicating his intentions toward her, warning her, almost…and making her want him just as badly, she realized, as she felt the heat of desire begin to spiral throughout her body.

Without another word, his lips devoured hers, and their legs tangled together as they stumbled up the stairs.

Scotty fell back on the pillows in a sweaty, breathless heap as Lilly collapsed next to him, her skin glowing and her smile even more dazzling than before.

"Oh, God, Scotty," she managed, and all he could do was watch her. She'd definitely proven she was alive, that was for sure…the things she'd just done to him, the way she'd made him want her so badly it had actually, physically hurt, and then the mind-blowing release…he'd have thought he'd feel better, but…he didn't.

Lilly squeaked in surprise as Scotty suddenly rolled on top of her and brushed a few damp blonde strands away from her neck.

"Already?" she panted, her eyes wide with astonishment. "But I still can't--" Can't move. Can't breathe. Can't do anything…

"Shhh," Scotty whispered, then leaned in to trail kisses over the curve of her jawline. Lilly's eyes fell closed and she couldn't even think; she'd barely recovered from the first round, she was still shaking and trying to draw a full breath, and here he was--

And suddenly, she realized what he was doing, as his lips gently slid closer and closer to the place where her jaw had been broken. She stopped breathing altogether, shutting down almost completely, and her eyes snapped open.

"What are you doing?" she demanded softly, but Scotty wouldn't budge. Grabbing his slick shoulders, she tried to push him away, but he stopped her efforts with a look, then gazed deeply into her eyes.

"You screamed for help, and no one came," he said thickly.

"Scotty," she started to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped her once more.

"That is never, ever gonna happen to you again," he said as emphatically as he could. "Not as long as I'm still alive and kickin'…that is never gonna happen to you again."

Lilly met his gaze, then trailed her fingers through the damp hair at his temples. "I know," she said softly, and with that, she took a deep breath and tentatively lifted her chin, wordlessly granting him access to all her physical and emotional scars.

He sighed when he found the spot, his tongue tracing the slightly swollen ridge of bone, all the swirling emotions in his heart pouring out through his lips, and gradually, Lilly felt herself melting at his touch. Her hands stopped trying to push him away and instead wound their way around his neck, cupping the back of his head.

"Never again," he murmured over and over as he kissed her, his voice trembling slightly as the fire of lust began to burn again, as though it had been years since they'd come together instead of mere moments. "I promise. Never again."

"I know," she whispered, then claimed his lips in the most passionate, love-filled kiss she'd ever given anyone in her life.

Maybe it wasn't too soon for round two.