She fucking slapped me. I kissed her and she slapped me. I never even saw it coming. We kissed and she was standing there with her eyes closed and…she was so beautiful. I wanted to touch her face, memorize the details with my fingertips. Then she opened her eyes and looked at me. And smacked me.

It's not like I was out of line. Hell, she kissed me first, and I sure as hell didn't smack her. I'd never even dream of hitting her. Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I should just do what I'd do to a perp who pissed me off and punch her.

Like I can even think about that without starting to hate myself. God, why can't things just be normal? It'd be so fucking simple. Olivia, I love you. Andy, I love you too. Simple.

Simple doesn't fucking exist. It's amazing that I'm only just figuring that out now. I think I might have told her I love her in that alley right after she slapped me. I'm so her bitch. And she doesn't even realize it.

I'm an idiot for loving her. I just have to get her out of my mind. Oh, yeah, that won't be hard with her sitting right there.

Don't look at her. Don't look. Don't…fuck. My head is turning to the side like there's an invisible string attached to my chin. I get the merest glimpse of her before my resolve snaps the string and I'm facing forward again.

I couldn't see her face, anyway, just it's reflection in the passenger side window. Her eyes were closed. Her hand was resting on her thigh and I wanted to reach for it, hold it in mine. Make her look at me with big, sad eyes. Tell her I was sorry for yelling at her.

Wait, I'm not sorry. She slapped me. She slapped me for no reason and that's why I yelled at her. That's why I made her feel like she was the one who'd ruined our entire relationship.

Oh, shit. Did I blame her for everything?

I shake my head quickly, trying to clear it. Stay in the moment, Andy; don't think about her. I'm driving to St. Patrick's Cathedral. There's another dead girl. It's the last one Paige had stashed. He'll have to come out of hiding to get more. Olivia hasn't said a word to me since we left One PP. She hasn't been angry. She hasn't yelled. She's just been…

Dammit. Start again. Paige is out of fresh meat. If he doesn't grab new girls himself, he'll send his son. Maybe he won't go after more girls. Maybe he'll be after Olivia this time. That's counts as thinking about the case. Paige has targeted Olivia in notes, with my Jeep. She's in danger. It's my job to keep her safe.

I certainly can't protect her if I can't look at her. At the next stoplight I hazard a glance. She's still looking out the window but her eyes are open now. I hope she's not crying. My hand is halfway to her shoulder when the light turns green. I pull it back and try to focus on driving.

She's not crying. I know she's not. She never does. What do I care if she is crying? I'm mad at her. She slapped me for no reason.

She must have had a reason. She doesn't just do things for no reason. What did I do?

I glance back over at her and our eyes meet for a moment before we both look away. I hope she didn't think I looked angry. I am angry. Why do I have to keep reminding myself that I'm angry?

God, I can't take this much longer. I really need to work on this whole not caring thing.

I'm not going to be able to work like this. It needs to stop. I scan the curb. It's all parked cars and snowdrifts. I stare into every empty square of pavement. Intersection. Fire hydrant. Bus stop. Intersection. Bus…parking spot. I pull into the unexpected space.

"What are you doing?" Her tone is surprised, nervous. It's the first thing she's said to me in over twenty minutes.

I try to control the vibrations of the high-tension wires my nerves have become. "We're gonna sit here and figure this out." I emphasize the 'we.'

"What?" I've caught her off guard by pulling over and she hasn't figured out what I'm up to.

"We are going to sit in the car and talk until this…" I make a vague gesture with my hands when I can't find the word, "this is resolved and we can actually work together." Fine, I'm not sure what I'm up to either.

She's had enough time now to collect herself. "No, no, you're gonna keep driving, because we're on our way to a murder scene."

"Why did you slap me?" I turn off the engine. Maybe I should throw the keys out the window, too.

"Andy, just drive. We need to get to the cathedral."

She really doesn't want to talk about this. I change my question to a demand. "Tell me why you slapped me."

"We don't have time to…"

"Tell me!" I interrupt, my voice rising.

"I don't know!"

"That's not good enough!" We've both acquired the same hint of desperation in our voices.

"Just…stop!"

"Not until you talk to me!"

"I don't want to talk to you!" She slaps her hand against the dash to emphasize the statement.

I take a deep breath and get my voice under control before I say, "Well that's too bad because we're staying right here until you explain why you hit me."

She crosses her arms over her chest and we sit in silence for what feels like an eternity. I'm getting nervous. We really do have to get to the crime scene. Shit, why did I have to take this so far?

"You're really not going to go anywhere until I talk to you?" Her calmness surprises me. Maybe she wasn't as upset as I thought she was.

Is she playing me? No, breathe, stay cool. I affect arrogance. "What do you think?"

She sighs. "Right." She uncrosses her arms but says nothing further.

"Well?" I've got my jaw clenched so tight it's starting to hurt.

We stare at each other. Staring. Staring…"I didn't mean to slap you."

Yeah, now she's definitely trying to fuck with me. We're not going to get anywhere if she's lying straight to my face. I start the engine and fall back on sarcasm. "You didn't mean to slap me? Wait, does that mean you were trying to slap someone else or you meant for it to be an uppercut?"

That gets a rise out of her. "It means that it just happened. I didn't plan it. By the time I realized what I was doing it was too late."

"Yeah. Well, I guess I'm just lucky you didn't have your gun drawn." I yank down on the gearshift, but I can't seem to get the truck out of park. "Fucking…"

Her hand suddenly covers mine. "Stop." She pulls it into her lap. I turn in my seat and lean toward her. She's just done a 180 and I must have missed the turn because she's gone from upset to gently running her thumb against the back of my hand, tracing the thin arc of a faded scar. "You got this when we were moving into our apartment. We were carrying the couch in and I lost my grip."

I smile at the memory, surprised that she's bringing up something positive about our past, but no so much so that I cease to savor the feel of her touch. "Hm. You wrapped it up in a dishtowel because it was the first thing you could find." A stream of happy images fills my mind and I wonder if I ever could have been mad at her.

The gentle caresses stop abruptly and we're once again on different wavelengths. "I'm always hurting you, aren't I?"

The hand she isn't holding involuntarily reaches for my cheek. It doesn't hurt to touch, just to think about. "It was an accident." She's looking at me curiously and I take my hand off my cheek. "The couch, I mean."

"I'm sorry."

Her statement seems sincere, but it's also vague. I think it's a blanket apology for wrongs real and imagined. I guess I owe her the same. "I'm sorry, too."

"You shouldn't be."

"Why not?" I speak softly, wanting to keep her talking. At some point in the conversation, she's turned so we're face to face. Our knees touch in the well between the seats. Our fingers are intertwined. I'm again seized by the impulse that made me kiss her earlier.

The look in her eyes does nothing to discourage me. I starting to lean forward when she says, "You were right. I always made the choice to leave and I never let you have the choice to stay."

I have no idea what to say. I mean, yeah, she did all the leaving, but… I falter for a moment before saying, "I pushed you away. Or I pushed you too hard. I…I did something wrong, and not just…not just the night we had that fight, but before that and…Liv, all I wanted was to be with you. I should have fought harder. I should have proved to you that I would do anything for you." I should have stopped speaking before I started sounding like a crappy television script.

"Andy…" She's so close that I can feel her breath as she exhales my name and all my attention is fixed on her. "You scare me."

I'm suddenly sitting straight up and she looks like she's a million miles away. What have I ever done to frighten her? I've never hit her, never threatened her. We've had our shouting matches, but never anything violent. "What…w-why?"

"Because I don't want to feel like this."

"Like what?"

"Like I want to be with you again."

A horn rises and fades as a car passes. Everything is foggy. Olivia wants a relationship. Olivia doesn't want to get involved with me. Hot snow falls up.

She speaks first. "We really need to get to the scene."

Wait, we're still at work? "No, no, you…you didn't answer the question."

"It doesn't matter."

I'm falling down a dark hole, grasping for something to hold onto. Olivia slapped me. I'm mad at her because she slapped me. I stick with it. "Yeah. Cathedral, then?"

Fin meets us as we approach the crime scene tape ten minutes later, flashing our badges to get though the crowd of gawkers. His voice is low as he says, "We got some problems."

Damn, he's good.