A Little Bit of Texas: Speed

Part Six

When Tim walked into the office the next day, people rushed to get out of his way. His face was grey, his eyes bloodshot, and his temper palpable. He snarled his way to his lab, put on his lab jacket, and got to work on the clothes of the homeless victim. He had the mass spectrometer running on five different substances, just from the shirt, when Calleigh walked into his domain.

"What do you want?" Speed asked, with foul grace.

"Tim Speedle, what the hell bit you this morning?" Calleigh asked, sitting on one of the stools.

"Nothing. I got no sleep last night, and I'm a little on edge," Speed said.

"A little? Remind me to call in sick any day your feeling a lot on edge. Jade told me when she told you good morning you gave her such a nasty look she almost felt like crying," Calleigh said.

"If all it takes is a look to make Jade cry, she needs to walk around wrapped in a protective layer of cotton, 'cause she's not ready to be in the real world," Speed said.

"And I know I haven't done anything to you, and you haven't said one single civil thing to me yet," Calleigh pointed out.

"Did you come in here for a reason? Or is being annoying the only thing on your mind right now?"

"No, not the only thing on my mind, but it's so rare to see something effect you this way ... I have to admit, I am enjoying getting under your skin. Now say something nice to me, or I won't tell you the good news," Calleigh said. She raised both eyebrows, opened her eyes wide and grinned at Speed.

"What good news?" Speed asked.

"Say something nice first, I mean it," Calleigh said.

Speed just stared at her, then turned away. He started to work on the pants. Calleigh stayed where she was, watching him work, and smiling.

"All right. Damn, anything to get you out of here. Okay, I think you are a very nice person, who cares about the job a lot more than I do. Happy?" Speed said.

"Thank you, Tim. That was very nice, and I know it hurt you to say. Now the good news," Calleigh said. She hopped of the stool, and walked over to Speed, standing next to him as he worked on the pants on the table, then said, "Nothing happened last night."

He stopped examining the band on the pants. He put the pants back on the light table, carefully. He then slowly turned to his left, so he was face to face with the blonde. "I don't know what you mean. Nothing happened last night?" Speed worked hard to keep his voice level, even, and above all, nonchalant.

Calleigh laughed out loud, right to his face, then said, "Dayna? On her spur of the moment date with the photographer guy? Everything they did last night was strictly G rated."

Speed couldn't help it, he let out a relieved breath, and leaned against the table. The barbed wires wrapped around his chest since the night before suddenly disappeared.

Calleigh went back to the stool she had been sitting on. "I thought that might be the reason you came stomping into work today," she said.

"How do you know?"

"About the date? Or about how you feel?"

"The date," Speed said.

Calleigh shook her head, "You mean you didn't figure that out? Why don't men understand the way women react? It's not really that difficult."

"The Y chromosome guarantees a natural immunity to understanding women. Are you going to tell me, or not?"

"Down boy," Calleigh said, "or I won't tell you anything. I know about the date because Dayna called me from her desk. Apparently the guy brought her some flowers."

Speed broke in, "Yeah, I know. I was there. Skip ahead," he said.

"Wait a minute, what do you mean you were there?"

"They didn't see me, but I was in the lobby," he said.

"Oh." Calleigh though a moment, then said, "That's kind of creepy, Speedle. You stayed and watched Dayna get asked out on a date?"

Speed felt the need to explain himself, which in itself was evidence of how tired he was. "At first I didn't know what was going to happen, but I wanted to make sure the guy wasn't upset about the opening. After that, what was I supposed to do?"

"Anyway, when she put the flowers on her desk she called me up, told me what was going on. When she got home she called me again, gave me all the details."

"So, nothing happened?" Speed had to ask.

Calleigh smiled, "Nope, Ben was a perfect gentleman. Really charming too, good looks, the whole package. Your really tired, so let me translate this for you: Dayna really likes this guy, so if you don't want to see her with him long term, then you better move fast."

Yeah, I know," Speed said. Calleigh started to leave the lab. "Hey, Cal? How did you know how I felt? I didn't even realize until last night."

"I'm a woman, Tim. We notice the little things, like the way you would look only at her when you were in the same room. The way you always know exactly where she is: whether she's here, homicide division, on a case, or off duty. Eric says that you knew exactly how many times you've worked with her."

"You noticed all that?"

"Actually, Alexx did." Calleigh had the honesty to look shamefaced, "but she told me what to look for, and then I could see it. I probably would have noticed it on my own. You know, sooner or later. By the way, she says that Dayna feels the same way about you, but she still hasn't realized it."

"Alexx knows?" Speed asked, horrified.

"Yeah. Oh, Horatio too."

"Eric?" Speed asked.

"Just as clueless as you," Calleigh said.

"But she likes me too?" as the ideas began to form.

He called Dayna a few hours later, after he had a plan in mind.

"Hey Dayna. Listen, I only have a minute, but I need to ask you something. You're off on Tuesday, right? The day after tomorrow?"

"Hi, Tim. Yeah, I'm off. Why?"

"Have any plans for tomorrow night?"

"Nah, what's up? You need me on a case?"

"Just don't make any plans, okay."

"Speedle, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Uh-uh. It's a surprise. Gotta go. See you tomorrow."

Tim had spent the day working on two levels. On one level he collected samples from the clothes of the victim, ran them, and compared the results. While the machines were running, though, he was putting his ideas into motion. He made phone calls and called in favors all over town.

His mind was naturally detail oriented, and that talent had been honed by working crime scenes for years. He remembered everything Dayna had ever said about what she liked on a date, he talked to Calleigh about Danya's discussions with her, he thought of every "what women want from men" article he had ever seen by mistake.

In the end, he would leave no doubt in the mind of one Detective Dayna Campbell how he felt. In the end, he prayed she felt the same.

Back to business. The results came in, and Speed called Tripp.

"I think he was in the warehouse district," Speed said.

"The warehouses? Why, what's there he could possibly be interested in?" Tripp replied.

"Don't know yet. Let's find out."

It was after hours of searching that they discovered ... absolutely nothing. They showed the photo to person after person, Speed looked everywhere for blood, they talked to every man they could find. There were no homeless people around to speak of, and none of the workers knew anything.

"The trouble with searching the warehouse district is that it's nothing but warehouses," Tripp said.

"Thank you for that stunning observation, Tripp. Did you mug someone for that detective's badge, or what?" Speed said.

"Back it off, Speedle, I'm not in the mood," Tripp said. "What I mean is, there's no way we are going to be able to cover all of these buildings alone."

Speed looked at Tripp for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, sorry, man, I'm a little out of it today. Didn't get much sleep. We could call the academy, get the cadets to help us."

"For a dead homeless guy? Forget it. I think we have to face it; until something else shows up, we're at a dead end."

Speed looked around at the buildings surrounding them, with hundreds, thousands of places a man could be stabbed to death. The clothing had oils and metal shavings in it, fuel particular to machines used here, but didn't reveal any way to narrow the crime scene down to a single building, or even a single group of buildings.

A sigh made of exhaustion and frustration came from both men. Speed reluctantly gave in. "Let's get out of here."

They climbed into Tripp's vehicle, and started leaving. It was only a few seconds after the car started moving that Tripp stopped again. Speed looked at Tripp, who was staring down an alley.

"What's going on? Do you see something?" Speed asked.

"Yeah. I think that's Adamson's car down there," Tripp said, referring to another Miami-Dade detective.

"Adamson? The detective Campbell was fighting with? What's he doing here?" Speed asked, remembering the first time he had seen Dayna.

"I don't know," Tripp said, stopping the car, and putting it in park. He shut down the engine and pulled out the key. "Let's find out."

The two men got out and went over to the car. Adamson was nowhere to be seen, the hood cold to the touch.

Speed asked, "Which building do you think he's in?"

Tripp said, "It could be any one of these five," motioning to the pattern of warehouses. The car was parked at the center of a star.

"Want to go look for him?"

Tripp though for a moment, then said, "Naw, we don't know what he's up to, and don't want to bust into the middle of something important. I'll ask him the next time I see him. Let's go."

Speed came in the next morning carrying a cup of coffee. He immediately went to Jade's lab.

"I was a total jerk yesterday, and I'm really sorry about that. I hadn't gotten any sleep the night before and I took it out on you. I brought you this; would you take it as a peace offering?" he said.

He handed the coffee over. Jade reached out her hand, then hesitated, looking at Speed's face. Then she smiled and took the cardboard cup.

H left the room, went directly to the Trace lab, and pulled on his lab coat.

"You're certainly chipper this morning," Calleigh said from the stool where she had been waiting for him. "So, what's the latest?"

"What am I, your new soap opera?"

"No, not at all. Well, yeah, a little. And no one calls them soap operas; they're just called 'soaps.' So what's going on? Do you need me to help you with anything?"

Speed came to the fast realization that the sooner he gave Calleigh the gossip she was craving, the sooner the blonde would go away.

"Everything is set," he said. "I've planned everything down to the last detail. The only thing that can go wrong at this point is if ..."

"What?" Calleigh asked.

"If she doesn't actually like me." Speed was unused to feeling insecure, and the fear of this final option settled in his eyes, making them feel gritty and dry.

Calleigh hesitated. She had never seen Speed anything less than fully confident when it came to women. "I don't know what to tell you. I think she does."

"But you two have never actually talked about me, right?"

"No, we haven't. But look, with everything that you've got planned, you would sweep any woman off her feet. I know you and I know her – it's going to be wonderful." She looked at him a second, and then asked, "So what did you do last night, anyway? Dayna had dinner with Horatio and Bethany, and you don't look like you were up all night this time."

"Mostly I cleaned my place. You know, no one ever told me about cleaning baseboards when I was growing up. I think I probably gained a few square feet in my apartment after I got everything done," he said.

"Oh my God, Tim. Are you kidding? You actually let your apartment get that bad? But you keep your lab so neatly."

"Calleigh, you can leave now."

"Alright, alright, I'm going." She walked a couple of steps away, then whirled back around to face Speedle, "I'm really excited about tonight. Good luck, Tim."

Oh yeah, I'm really excited too. I'm so excited I feel sick.

Two hours later, Tripp's phone call was a welcome respite from his increasing nervousness.

"There's something definitely going on with Adamson. When I asked him about his car, he tried to deny it. When that didn't work he handed me some cock and bull story about being on a surveillance gig," the detective reported.

"What does his lieutenant say?" Speed asked, grasping at straws.

"That's a funny thing. His L.T. backed him up one hundred percent, and invited me to ask IAD about it too."

"So he really was on surveillance?"

"Speedle, I'd bet my daughter's life he's lying through his teeth. But he's protected from someone high up. So high up he doesn't have to worry about us. And it's not the first time he's been protected, either. Years ago he was caught tampering with evidence: that should have gotten him arrested. Instead he got his wrist slapped, and was banned from working with CSI. That part didn't even come from higher up, but from the lieutenant in charge of the CSI unit at the time. The guy Megan took over from."

"Now what, Tripp?"

"Now we're at a dead end, unless you've got any bright ideas."

Speedle sighed out his frustration. "Damn. Okay," he said. He hung up with the detective and spent the rest of the day bagging up the victim's clothes for transport to the cold case lock-up. He worked on other people's cases for the rest of the day, then headed home a little early.

He shaved, changed into a dark grey shirt and dark blue jeans. He got on his bike drove to the homicide building, and waited on his bike for Dayna to come out.

She was wearing a red blouse that buttoned down the front, black jeans, and boots. Her hair was pulled into its usual ponytail. When she saw Speed he saw her eyes widen briefly, then she walked over.

"Have you ever ridden on a bike?" he asked her.

"No." She grinned at him, then asked, "What's going on?"

"Did you want to leave your purse in your car? I guarantee you won't need it."

Dayna hesitated, asked, "Are we going out?"

"That doesn't even begin to describe it."

Dayna put her purse in the trunk of her car, and walked back to Speed.

Speedle handed her a helmet, "You get on behind me and put your arms here." He took her arms and wrapped them around his waist. She kept them around him as she swung her leg over and settled in. He allowed himself a smile she couldn't see at the feel of it.

He started the bike and started to move, feeling Dayna's arms instinctively tighten. As he drove he noticed she leaned into the turns. She really is the right woman. He could remember how his last girlfriend would lean the wrong way and put them both in danger. He had timed it right, they reached the beach as the sun was setting.

They walked out onto the sand, not touching. They stopped at the water, and Speed touched Dayna's shoulder, gently turned her toward him.

"Okay, here's the thing," he said. Without any further warning he put his hands on her arms, pulled her towards him and kissed her. At first he was tentative, giving her the opportunity to pull away. When she didn't he deepened the kiss and exulted in his mind when she began to kiss him back. He finally, reluctantly, broke away and pulled back, but kept his hands on her arms.

"The thing is I can't stop thinking about you. And when you went out with that photographer guy it drove me crazy. I mean it, I think I went crazy, a little. Now that I know how I feel, I had to let you know, too. I want a chance with you. If you give me tonight, I think I can convince you we should be together. If you say no now, I'll take you back to your car, and we'll never talk about this again. Will you give me this chance?"

Dayna didn't say anything for a second that felt like forever. When she did speak, she looked directly into Tim's eyes, and asked, "Will there be more kissing?"

He smiled at her, and drew her close again, eager to answer the question with actions, rather than words.

Parrot Island was only a fifteen-minute drive from the beach. It was a place where Miami families take their kids, where tourists went the day after to detox from Miami nightlife, and where Tim took Dayna for dinner. The zoo was locked up for the night, but a large white man in a three-piece suit was waiting for them at the entrance.

"Ms. Campbell, Mr. Speedle," he said bowing slightly to each as he said their names, "please follow me." The stranger turned, unlocked the front door, and walked them through the entrance. He led them past the vacant gift shop, ticket booths and tour stops, until they came to the edge of the park proper.

He pointed down a path, gently lit with lamps at discreet intervals. "Please take the path to the left, it will take you through the areas where the nocturnal creatures play. Please take your time. At the end of the path is our restaurant. Enjoy your stay here, for this evening the entire park is yours."

The man shook hands with Tim, kissed Dayna's hand, turned and walked off.

"Tim, how the hell ... ?"

Speed smiled at her, "And spoil the air of mystery? Never. Are you ready?" Speed gestured down the path.

Dayna's smile was enormous. She took Tim's hand in her right, and they started down the trail. They stopped a few feet in, and started laughing. She moved her weapon holster to the small of her back, took down her hair from her work ponytail, and took his hand again.

"I don't think I've ever actually worn my gun on a date before," she said.

"I don't think I've ever actually been on a date with another cop before, so I didn't think of it," Speedle said.

"So you're not wearing your sidearm at all?" Dayna asked.

"I hardly think I'm going to need it this evening," Speed said, drawing her to him for a quick kiss.

They started back down the trail, hearing parrots and monkeys in the trees around them. They came to the first viewing area and lights came up to gently illuminate the play area. Young chimps were flying from tree to tree, hardly seeming to look where to grab. Dayna pointed out one who was trying to wake one of the adults. The adult was desperately trying to stay asleep in the poking, pulling, and loud attack on slumber. Finally the adult rolled over and screamed at the younger chimp. The adolescent scampered away to another tree.

"That poor woman," Dayna said, even as she laughed at the antics.

"What makes you think it's a female?"

"Because that's the way I act when someone wakes me up."

As they left the area, the lights gently turned off. Someone was obviously monitoring their progress, making sure everything was going smoothly.

"Do you like it?" Speed asked.

"It's amazing."

In between the various stops the couple talked. Speed told her about growing up in New York, about his family, about what he liked about his job, and what he hated. What he did on a normal day off. His favorite places in the city. He even told her about Jack, his best friend, whose death brought him finally to Miami and into Megan Donnor's CSI team. He had told Megan about Jack, but no one since then. Dayna told him about Houston, her partner Lindsey, the best cases she had had, and the worst. She told him about her favorite movies, favorite authors, and favorite ice cream. She told him about why she had become a cop, and the differences between what she thought it was going to be like, and the reality.

At each of the animal enclaves, though, they found other things to talk about. The aviary stops where the birds were so strangely colored it was hard to believe it was natural. The monkey stops where the animals seemed to put on shows specifically for their audience of two.

By the end of the trail they had found out most of each other's lives, likes and dislikes. They had laughed and exclaimed at the animals, kissed several more times, and arrived at the restaurant. Any awkwardness they had felt on the beach and at the beginning of the walk had evaporated, leaving them with the usual pleasure they felt in each others company.

The restaurant was in the middle of a Japanese botanical garden, beautiful and soothing. They walked in, and were met by the Mr. and Mrs. Valentino, the owners of the Italian restaurant Speed had introduced Dayna to. Mrs. Valentino showed them to their table, the only people in the huge dining room.

"This whole place is just for you two tonight. I'm so happy," she said as she bustled around, seating Dayna, then Tim. She patted Tim on the cheek, then walked off quickly, returning with a white wine. She poured them each a glass, put the bottle on ice, near the table. She walked off, singing an Italian song softly to herself. Soon soft Italian music, although not sung by Mrs. Valentino, came into the room. Unlike many restaurants, where the music is so loud it competes with conversation, this was gentle and soft, merely making sure any pauses in talking were not made uncomfortable.

Speed picked up his glass of wine, and held it up to Dayna. Dayna picked up hers in response.

"To you," Speed said, touching his glass to hers.

"To us," Dayna responded. Speed felt his breath catch, then scolded himself for acting like a little girl. Why are you so surprised she feels the way you want her to feel?

They each drank from their wine, and talked some more. The salad course came out, exquisitely laid out on the plates. Over the salad they started talking about work. It was inevitable; it was something they had in common, and something that they could talk about with few outside of the job. Speed told her about the case with the homeless man, and finding Adamson's car. Dayna told him about the case she had just finished with Calleigh and Horatio, a man murdered by his wife's best friend.

When Mrs. Valentino came over to clear the plates and refill the wine she clucked disapproval at their conversational topic. "Primo is making his specialty for you tonight. He has never made it for anyone who is not family. Please don't talk about dead people when you eat it, it will break his heart. It would, his heart would be in pieces, and I would have to put it back together for him. It would take me months, if it could be done at all. So, please, we will speak of dead people no more." She looked at them, pleadingly.

"Yes, ma'am," Dayna said obediently. Mrs. Valentino walked away, mollified. She never made it to the kitchen. The doors flew open, and Mr. Valentino walked out carrying a platter with a silver cover. He marched over to the table, for all the world looking like a man carrying jewels to a queen. He put the platter down, and removed the cover with a wide arc of his arm. He began to serve the entrée, a pasta dish with some kind of cream sauce. He waited until Dayna and Tim each took a bite, then watched anxiously for their reactions. It was magnificent. It was creamy, and spicy, and the flavors changed in your mouth from tasting of herbs to the delicious taste of lobster.

Neither Tim nor Dayna could actually manage to say anything. Apparently taking this as a high compliment, Mr. Valentino walked away humming to himself.

It began as a silent dinner, both of them eating the amazing pasta with extreme concentration. After the novelty of the dish began to release its hold on them, conversation flowed again. Work and death were not touched on again; music and literature were the new focus. Dayna had never heard of Tim's favorite bands, and she was horrified to find most of his reading was work related. Tim found out that Dayna loved most genres of music, but was horrified in his turn to find that included both eighties and country.

"Really country? You're not just saying that?" he asked her.

"I love country. Anyone with a heart should love country," she said.

"Is this a Texas thing?"

"No, actually, most of the Texans I know hate country music. But I love it," she said, defiantly.

"Hmm. Well, I guess I like you anyway," Speed said, then grinned.

Music was actually on the menu for the evening's entertainment. The left Parrot Island, after showering the Valentino's with thanks and praise, and headed to the next stop on Speedle's agenda.

They went to a tiny bar in the heart of downtown called YaMans. There were about thirty chairs arranged around a stage, all appeared to be occupied. It was hard to tell, though, because the interior was very dark, and every person in the place seemed to be dressed in black.

A Goth woman walked up to the two and said, "Detectives Speedle and Campbell?" Tim nodded. "This way, please." She walked them past the seated people, to a table with a "reserved" sign on it. "The show is going to start in ten minutes," she said, taking away the sign, then walked away. A waitress came over and put down two glasses of red wine in front of them.

Dayna leaned closer to Tim and whispered, "What's this one, then?"

"An adventure?" Speed whispered back.

It turned out to be a jam session between the musicians of three local bands. The bass and piano player from a metal band called "Spikes," the lead guitar and drummer from a dance band called "U Want 1 2" and the singer from a folk band "Addictions."

With three such different styles, the first 30 minutes were a learning process. After that, however, they melded into a style of music Tim had never heard before. The musicians got better as they discarded the parts of their personal music that didn't fit the new style, and strengthen the parts that did work. It was almost three hours later that the bar emptied, everyone riding the music that was still humming in their veins. Tim and Dayna were following the others out the door when the hostess pulled them over.

"It's almost two A.M. Are you two ready for more?" she asked.

Tim looked at Dayna, who nodded at him. "Yeah, what's going on?"

The hostess grinned, her teeth startling through her dark, dark red lipstick. "There was this red-haired man here with his woman. There weren't any seats for them, so they sat at the bar. He told me to give this to you if you were up for it. He gave me one too, just to do it. You two obviously made an impression on him." The woman handed a metal disk to Speedle. When he looked at it, he realized it was a VIP access medallion for Secrets the newest, hottest club Miami had to offer.

"Okay, this I didn't actually plan." Speed said, handing the medallion over to Dayna.

"Wow, these are impossible to get. Horatio had this? And he gave it away? Wait a minute, that means he saw us together," Dayna said, her brows drawing down.

Tim thanked the hostess, took Dayna by the hand, and drew her outside. He looked at her, and saw the idea of Horatio knowing about them upset her.

"Hey, Dayna, I never intended us to be a secret. I want you, and I want us to be together, and I'm not planning on sneaking around to do it. Let me know now if you see things differently."

Dayna looked at him, then shook her head, "No, I guess not. It's just something I wasn't expecting."

It wasn't until later that Speed realized he didn't know if she meant having other cops know about them, or his reaction to being with her.

The club Secrets was a beautiful building, set apart from the other clubs on the strip. Although it was past two in the morning, now a Tuesday, the club was in full swing. The dance floor was to the left, and packed. The music playing was more flowing than forceful, and the people were simply swaying. From the amount of sweat on the dancers this was a slow song to give the crowd a breather. To the right was a large room with over a dozen recessed alcoves. Each alcove had a small table, a deep high-backed couch, and the entrances each had a curtain that could be drawn closed.

As they were walking past Speed noticed a green light come on over the door of a closed-curtained room. A waitress went over, turned off the light, and ducked inside.

"Vice must hate this place," Dayna murmured to him. "Can you imagine how many drug deals are going on behind those curtains?"

"That's not the only thing going on behind them," he said, just as quietly. He nodded his head in the direction of a couple just coming out from one. As the couple headed to the dance floor Dayna could see what had caught Speed's eye. Dark red, lacy underwear was peeking out of the top of the man's pants pocket.

One of the bouncers was escorting them up the stairs and to the back, the VIP lounge. It was ... discreet. It was a dark room with recessed lighting. They could recognize several prominent Miami figures. None of them were alone, but few were with their spouses. The music in here was softer, and several couples were holding onto each other, quietly moving to the rhythm.

There were small couches scattered in the room. Speed started for an unoccupied one, but Dayna pulled him over to an empty spot on the floor. She took his hands, and guided his arms around her waist, moving her hands to his shoulders. She leaned against him, her forehead nestling into his neck. Tim tightened his arms, holding her even closer. They were barely moving, only slightly swaying to the music; simply holding each other. Speedle moved his hands on her back, his right hand moving up, and his left sliding down to the small of Dayna's back. There was an odd feeling in his chest, and it seemed to be directly linked to her scent. The closer he held her, the more the essence of her overwhelmed him, the thicker the tendrils in his body grew.

What is this? Am I panicking? Am I tired? What's going on? Tim could feel his body start to stiffen, and he could hear a questioning mumble come from Dayna. Since she was talking into his chest he couldn't understand her, but hearing her calmed him. He rubbed her back and settled back down.

A white, expensively dressed man walked over to them and touched each of them lightly on the shoulder. They separated, turning to the intruder.

"What the hell?" Tim asked, upset at losing the moment so soon after getting it back.

"I do apologize. My name is Bruce, and this is my club. I normally don't like interrupting people when they're so obviously having a good time in my place, but this should only take a moment. Ma'am, you are wearing a gun in my club. This is a designated safe place, nothing can happen to you while you are here. The gun is unnecessary, I can assure you. Would you like to give it to me for safekeeping?"

Dayna gave the club owner a long, cold look. "No."

"If you do not hand over your weapon, or leave, I will be forced to call the police. That will mean unpleasantness, and that is something I wish to avoid."

"The police are here," Dayna said, pulling her badge from her back pocket and handing it to the man.

"Let me reassure you, Bruce, your club is safer with her wearing that gun then it would be otherwise. Detective Campbell is one of the best," Tim said.

The owner inspected the badge, then handed it back to Dayna, "My apologies again for interrupting. Please enjoy yourself." He left them, walking about to his other guests.

"You want to go sit now?" Speed asked, feeling the moment was broken beyond repair.

"Yeah, that would be good," Dayna said.

Speed automatically took her hand, keeping her close to him, keeping contact. They settled onto a couch, their legs touching, still holding hands. Tim moved his right hand, the one holding Dayna's left, so that the back of her hand was on top. He traced invisible patterns on her hand and arm with his free hand. They were barely talking, both exhausted from a day that started at work almost twenty-four hours ago. Speed knew he should get them out of there while he still had enough energy to drive them safely. But I like this so much. Just a little while longer.

Dayna put her free hand to her mouth, covering a huge yawn. He looked at her as she settled her head against his shoulder.

"Come on, we need to go," he said.

"No, I'm alright. I'm just relaxed."

Speedle's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You get any more relaxed and you'll start snoring. Let's get you home."

Dayna laughed, and then stood up with Tim. He leaned in for a kiss, and twined his fingers into her hair.

They went down to the bike; before Speed started it he asked Dayna, "Where do you live?"

"You're not taking me to my car?"

"I know how much you love that car. Do you really want to drive it when you're this tired?"

"Ah. I live on Silverbranch."

"I know that street," Speed said, as Dayna settled behind him. When he felt her arms go around his waist he started the bike.

He drove to the apartment complex, turned off his bike, and walked her to her door. He tried to stifle it, but a yawn escaped.

Dayna smiled, and asked him in. "You cannot get back on that bike until you have some coffee."

"I don't drink coffee."

"Something with caffeine in it then. Sit down, I'll get you something."

Speed sat on the sofa, feeling bone tired and completely content. He shifted until he was wedged into the crook between the arm and back of the seat, listening to the sounds of Dayna in the kitchen. So comfortable, here and now.

He opened his eyes, and the room was dark. He couldn't recognize where he was for a second, but then felt Dayna next to him. He was still on the couch, his legs propped up, his boots off and neatly arranged next to the wall. Dayna was asleep next to him, her head nestled against his arm. She hadn't changed clothes, but had taken off her shoes too, and covered them both with a blanket. Tim moved his left arm as gently as he could, so he was holding her with it instead of her leaning on it. He kissed her hair, then went back to sleep.