A/N: A little steam here, nothing major... :)

-!-

Chapter 5: Calm Before a Storm

-&-

-!-

Bullpen, Hoover Building

Sunday, June 6

4 p.m.

Jack turned from refilling his coffee and watched his team quietly brainstorming. They weren't any closer to answers, but things felt different— still determined, but calmer.

He didn't know what had transpired in the hour Myles was absent, but he sent a silent thank you heavenward above for whatever Liz had said to the tall agent. He still looked worn out and frustrated, but, somehow, it was no longer personal. Jack's talk with Garrett wouldn't be necessary now – he could feel that.

She's the best thing that's ever happened to him, he thought. I hope I find someone like that someday. As he came out of his thoughts, he realized he'd been staring at Sue, and she was now looking at him quizzically.

Jack blinked, then signed, Nothing. I was just lost in thought.

She gave him a bright smile and replied, You going to join us, or have you not found your way back yet?

He grinned and shook a finger at her as he walked back over to the group.

"Something's different with this one," Myles was saying. "Something very subtle, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Well, let's just talk it through and see what jumps out at us," D replied. "At 1:30 p.m., Elizabeth walked Rachel back over to her house. They made plans to attend church together this morning, and then go have brunch."

"Liz said Rachel's son and his family were coming over for dinner last night." Bobby picked up the narrative. "I spoke with Connor DeLacy a couple of hours ago, and he said they were there until about 9 p.m. Rachel was headed for bed, and they saw her begin shutting off the lights as they pulled out. He said his mother was known for going to bed early, then being up at 4 a.m."

"The coroner placed the time of death between 4 and 4:30," Tara added.

"So the Rose was waiting for her." Lucy's eyes were wide at the thought.

Bobby nodded, and continued. "And from what Elizabeth said, Rachel DeLacy had pretty bad arthritis in her knees and hips. She wouldn't have been able to put up much of a struggle."

"There's something different," Sue pointed out. "All the other victims were between 25 and 35. Rachel DeLacy was 80 years old."

"Might simply be that his original target fell through somehow," Jack commented. "Everything else was identical: the chloroform, the anticoagulant, the cut in her throat, the poem, the rose tossed onto her body—"

Myles suddenly snapped his fingers. "That's it!" he cried. "The rose!"

"What about it?" The question came out almost simultaneously from Bobby and Jack.

Myles shuffled through the case files and pulled out a photo from each one. "Take a look," he said, laying the pictures out in order. "What do you notice?"

There was silence for a minute. Then D pounced on the last one. "Rachel DeLacy! In all the other photos, the rose is just kind of thrown on top of the bodies. But in Rachel's case, her hands are folded over it very precisely. That was done deliberately." He looked up at all of them gravely. "The Black Rose is finished with his hunt."

Myles nodded, and his voice was deathly still. "Whoever his prey is, they're most likely here in DC."

-&-

-!-

-&-

-!-

Leland Home, Washington, DC

5 p.m.

He found her curled up on the sofa in his study, thumbing through a book of poetry from his literary collection. The wonderful aroma of her lasagna wafted through the house, the music was classical guitar this time, and he was again struck by the coziness of the whole setting.

Myles knelt down in front of her. "You okay?"

Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise; then a smile brightened her face, and she nodded. "Yes. I found some poems Rachel used to quote to me, and it just prompted a wash of wonderful memories. It will take a long while, I think, to erase the image from this morning, but I'm okay." She gently stroked his cheek. "You look absolutely exhausted."

He nodded, ending the gesture with his eyes down. "That would be an understatement. But I don't have to go back to the office tonight. They didn't do a full autopsy on Rachel, just the toxicology report. It's all a match."

"Connor will be glad to hear that," Elizabeth said softly. "He was a little concerned about whether he should plan an open-casket service for her. But I'm glad you're home for the evening." Suddenly, a ringing of a bell from the kitchen got their attention. "Well, dinner's ready, and then you can get some sleep."

As they walked out to the kitchen, Myles noticed a pilot's case leaned against the island counter. "What's this?"

Elizabeth replied, "Oh. Uh..." She sighed. "Would it be okay if I crashed in your guest room tonight? I just...I don't want to go back over there. Not tonight."

He drew her into his arms and kissed her cheek. "It's fine. I'm getting rather used to you being here most of the time, anyway. And I think I'd just as soon not be alone tonight, either— too quiet."

She laughed softly. "I thought you liked the quiet, so you could think."

"Exactly." His reply was infinitely weary. "Thinking is not on my preferred list of activities tonight."

Dinner was quiet, for the most part. When they were finished, she started to put things away. Myles came over to her and took the dish she was holding. "You don't have to do this, you know. You're not my housekeeper."

"No, I'm your girlfriend," she replied with a smile. "And you need some sleep. It will only take me a minute to clean up, anyway."

"Thank you, then." He sighed and handed the dish back to her. Then a twinkle lit his eyes. "You're certainly prettier than my housekeeper." He leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss. "Hmm...sweeter, too."

Her eyebrows went up. "And how would you know that?" Before he could answer her, she waved a hand at him, laughing. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"It's good to hear you laugh." Myles' next comment was interrupted by a monstrous yawn.

Elizabeth smiled and gave him a gentle push toward his room. "Go get some sleep. Now. I'll see you in the morning."

-&-

-!-

-&-

-!-

11 p.m.

It came again - the same dream, the same women, the roses...all of it. The only difference was that now there were eight faces staring at him…at first…

Her eyes were closed, and a bouquet of white roses were loosely held in her hands, as if she'd fallen asleep while admiring them. He was drawn to her, even though some distant part of him was screaming to stay away.

He knelt down next to her. As he reached for her slim hand, he heard a whisper echo across the garden:

… O, snatched away in beauty's bloom,

On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;

But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year;

And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:…

He watched in horror as the roses in her hands began to turn red, even as her skin turned white. It was as if they were draining the very life from her. Her face changed; her hair became the velvet blackness of a raven's wing… "No," he whispered, "Please, no, not again…"

The roses in her hands were almost black now, her face almost lifeless as the vines began to shoot out of the ground all around the bench. He grabbed her, trying to pull her toward him, but she wouldn't budge. Emerald eyes opened, and she looked at him as if she were saying, "Farewell, my love."

The vines crept further up the bench, starting to twine around her, and the blood-red tears began to fall across her cheeks as he screamed in horror.

"Elizabeth! Noooooooooooo!"

The vines of bleeding black roses engulfed her and choked out any remaining life...

-&-

-!-

-&-

-!-

"Elizabeth! Noooooooooooo!" It brought her out of a sound sleep, and she was across the hall before she had her robe fully on over her pajamas. What she saw made her stop trying to put it on, and just tossed it aside.

Myles was tangled in the bed clothes, still thrashing about. Sweat glistened in the thin light from the hallway, and soaked the sheets holding him captive. His mouth moved in a silent refusal, his face contorted with a haunted pain.

"Myles?" She placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him with enough force to wake him.

He sat up abruptly, his breath coming in tortured gasps, still fighting with the sheets. It only took her a second to realize he was in a full-blown panic attack, and she grabbed him by both shoulders.

"Myles! It was a dream. Just a dream. You need to calm down." His eyes locked with hers, and she saw recognition. Desperate hands clamped over her arms as he tried to draw a full breath. She held the gaze, talking softly to him as he fought for control. After a few tense minutes, his breathing started to slow, and the pressure on her arms lessened.

"Let me get you some water." He nodded, finally extricating himself from the tangle of sheets. He wrapped his arms around his own bare shoulders and leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed.

Elizabeth got a cup from the bathroom and filled it, then turned back toward him. Shirtless, still shaking from whatever nightmare had gripped him, he looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him, and tears stung her eyes at the sight. She came back over and took his hand, wrapping his cold fingers around the cup. "Here."

He took a long drink, then placed the cup on the nightstand. For a moment, his eyes dropped and she thought he was going to put his emotional walls back up. Before he could do it, though, she reached out and stroked his cheek. "It's all right, love," she whispered. "I'm here."

He hesitated only a moment. Then it all spilled over at once, and he clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder and letting all the tension and fear pour out. She held him tightly, offering whatever silent comfort she could, knowing that if she spoke too soon he would retreat behind the walls again, and that it would do more damage to him to only get out half of the anguish.

After several minutes, Myles breathed a deep sigh into her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Her voice was soft, but it held a trace of exasperation. "Finally proving that you're as human as the rest of us? That doesn't need an apology. It deserves a medal."

His breath came out in a short laugh, and he looked up into her eyes. "Thank you."

Elizabeth gently brushed at the tears still on his face. "You are very welcome, my love. It's nice to know you trust me enough to share all your pain, instead of just bits and pieces."

Myles sighed again. "I think you're only the second woman in my adult life who has seen me cry."

She smiled. "So how come you didn't snatch up the first one when you had the chance?"

He chuckled, his eyes far away for a moment. "No, over the long term I think we might have killed each other."

They talked for about an hour longer, and he drifted back to sleep. Elizabeth, curled up next to him on top of the bedding, ran her hand lightly over his blond hair, debating whether to go back to her room or just stay. After a few minutes, she sighed, got up and grabbed the quilt that was folded up on the nearby armchair. She lay back down, spread out the quilt over herself, then rested her head against his shoulder, and was asleep within minutes.

-&-

-!-

-&-

-!-

Monday, 7 June

6 a.m.

Some distant professional part of her knew why it was happening; what they had shared the night before hadn't been intimate in the romantic sense of the word, but holding him, her hands against his skin, had been the closest they'd been during their relationship. It was all a very normal reaction, the analyst in her mind was saying, but her subconscious didn't care. The dream was like nothing she'd ever experienced before, so vivid in sensation that she thought she'd be more than happy to die this way.

A soft moan escaped her lips, and she whispered something too softly for him to make out as he stirred and looked over at her. Myles started to wake her, thinking she was having a nightmare as well, then stopped when he heard the sigh that followed. A smile touched his lips; he knew that sigh all too well, having had a few dreams of his own like that.

He turned his eyes away for a moment, as a gentleman would, and glanced at the clock. Oh dear, he thought, we're both going to be late for work if we don't hurry up. He placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Elizabeth."

She stirred, and he ran his hand lightly down her arm. Another sigh escaped her, and then she woke up with a gasp. She was faced away from him, so he couldn't see her face, but she seemed to be having a hard time figuring out where she was. Then her breathing slowed, and she ran a hand over her face, as if to shake off the dream. He smiled again, then leaned over so that his lips were right next to her ear without actually touching her.

"Good morning."

She gasped again, then looked over her shoulder at him. "Where did you learn that?"

"What?"

"That velvet baritone purr that just about buckles my knees every time you use it on me."

His smile turned into a roguish grin. "I don't think my voice had anything to do with it this morning. Nice dream?"

She felt her face grow warm, and her eyes dropped. "You could say that," she said quietly.

Myles slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "I hope I was in it." He purposely tried to keep his voice a little more neutral, but he couldn't resist teasing her.

Her breath came out in a cross between a laugh and a sigh. "Of course you were in it. You're the only man I've ever even come close to—" She stopped abruptly.

"You mean...ever?" It wasn't that he was shocked, just...well, maybe that was a good word at the moment.

Elizabeth nodded, her cheeks coloring again almost to the deep pink of her Oriental-patterned silk pajamas. "Well, a couple of guys in college tried, but…yes, ever. It's just…I remember having a conversation with my grandmother when I was about 15. She wasn't really prudish, but she felt very strongly about some things, and she made sure I knew it. I'll tell you, it was a strange feeling, discussing human intimacy with her."

He laughed softly. "I can imagine, at age 15."

"Anyway," she continued, "the one thing I remember most was her saying that it was the most wonderful thing God had ever created, and that it was worth waiting for the right person to share it with. And not just finding the right person; it was worth waiting for the vow to go along with it."

He was silent for a minute, resting his cheek against her hair. The initial shock had given way to something else; a bit of awe that there really were still "old-fashioned girls" out there, and he'd been fortunate enough to find one.

"Sounds like your grandmother is a wise lady," he said at last.

Elizabeth turned over to face him again. "Yes, I think she was."

He twined his fingers through hers and raised her hand to his lips. "Well, I must say that…" He trailed off as he noticed something on her forearm. "Where did you get—?"

She looked as well, and saw five oval-shaped bruises on her arm. The other arm revealed the same thing. "I don't know, I…"

Myles gasped as the previous night's events came back, and his eyes widened in horror. "Oh, my… Did I do that to you last night? Elizabeth, I—"

She turned to face him fully and pressed a finger onto his lips. "Myles, you were in the middle of a panic attack, and I'm not going to have you apologizing for something you had no control over." He started to protest, and she cut him off with a shake of her head. "I mean it. My arms have always bruised easily, anyway— I've had patients do far worse than this, believe me."

"It still doesn't excuse—" Myles stopped as she raised a brow at him, then continued with a different tack, his voice softening. "I don't ever want to hurt you. I hope you know that."

Elizabeth's smile brought a glow to her whole face. "I know," she whispered.

"I do think I should do something to help, though," he replied, a grin slowly taking shape.

Both brows went up this time. "And what might that be?"

He didn't answer, just took both of her hands and very gently kissed each bruise. Then he gave her a look that made her shiver, and leaned down until he was only an inch from her lips. "May I?"

She had to take a breath before she could answer. "Lying here in your bed, with only a sheet and a blanket between us, after the dream I had and your kisses just now? I'm not sure how safe that is; not because of you, love, but because of me."

His soft laugh warmed her even further. "Then I suppose I'll have to be gentleman enough for both of us."

The first kiss was gentle, the slightest brush of his lips against hers. The second, however…his hand stroked her cheek, then slid around to cradle her head and draw her closer to him. His tongue slowly caressed first her lower lip, then the upper. Elizabeth sighed and opened her mouth to tangle her tongue with his, then shivered again as he began to explore the corners of her mouth. A soft sound much like in her dream escaped her, and she brought her hands against the warmth of his chest and up around his shoulders.

Just as she was about to tangle her fingers in his hair and pull him toward her, he drew back and placed a single chaste kiss on her nose. "We're going to be late for work."

Elizabeth stared at him for a minute, trying to get her brain functioning again. "What?"

He chuckled at her. "I said, we're going to be late for work. Something affecting your hearing, sweetheart?"

"Oh! You—" She reached back and a pillow struck him in the face. Then she started giggling as well.

Myles just grinned at her again. "You do realize," he said, "that little attack now gives me an opportunity to find out something I've always wondered about you." Both her brows shot up again, and his grin broadened. "Whether or not you're ticklish."

"Myles Leland, don't you dare!" She tried to slide out of his grasp, but he held her tight and poked her gently in the ribs. She started laughing and was soon gasping for breath.

He let her go and she jumped off the bed, still laughing. "You'll pay for that someday."

"I look forward to it," he grinned back. "Now, we're really going to be late. There'll be hot water even with both showers going at once, so—"

Elizabeth waved a hand at him. "Love, after this morning, I'm not even going to turn the hot water on."

-&-

-!-

-&-

-!-

7 a.m.

He was thumbing through the stack of mail on the kitchen counter when she came out of the guest room. A grin found its way to his face behind his coffee cup. "You awake now?" he teased.

Elizabeth swatted him on the shoulder, then picked up the coffee he'd poured for her. "You're lucky I'm coming anywhere near you after all that."

He was opening an envelope, and didn't look up as he answered. "After what? The tickling or the kissing?"

"Both." She slipped a arm around his waist. "Something of interest?"

"A note from my father," he replied. "Apparently his friend at the Argentine embassy invited him and my mother to a dinner of some sort next Sunday night. Dad's inviting us to join them."

"I would love to see them again. But how will that work out with your case still open?"

Myles glanced at her, a smile on his face. "Sweetheart, unless the Black Rose is camped on my doorstep, I will find a way to work in a few hours for dinner and dancing with you. How's your tango?"

Elizabeth actually paled. "Uh, Myles, I…"

"What? I know you must have had the same mandatory ballroom lessons I did when we were teenagers. In fact, with Boston and Cambridge so near to each other, we probably had the same teachers. The names Richard and Alice Cohen ring a bell?"

She laughed faintly, although the color didn't come back to her cheeks. "As a matter of fact, they do. I just about lamed Richard permanently with a pair of stiletto heels when he was trying to teach me to tango. You'd be taking less of a risk having the Rose on your doorstep."

Myles chuckled and kissed her on top of her head. "I think I'll take my chances. So pull out your prettiest party dress, lovely lady. We have a date Sunday night, if we don't get fired for being late."

-&-

-!-

-&-

-!-