15.

Horatio Caine revealed to Schell a small fact not a lot of people knew about him. He really was an excellent cook. She hadn't really noticed, in the course of events, what it was he had purchased at the store, but to her surprise he produced two cuts of beef fillets, (which he had had pounded thin), some deli-sliced Proscuitto, and Mozzarella. Layering the three ingredients, he had rolled, then floured, and sautéed them. "Saltimboca…" he had explained, "Really very simple. Something my grandma used to make." With the steaks he made linguine in a butter sauce, a salad --which Schell insisted on helping to prepare-- and garlic bread.

She revealed that she had spent time in Europe studying some of her favourite artists, Alphonse Mucha, (the father of Art Nouveau) in Prague, Czechoslovakia. Ivan Aivazovsky--famous for the very painting subject that was her passion-- near the Crimea, and having the pleasure of meeting the current reigning master of maritime paintings; Geoff Hunt in Britain. At 'home' she had studied the works of Howard Pyle, the Wyeths and Maxfeild Parrish. Apparently her schooling plus a year studying abroad had been paid for by what had been left to her from her grandpa's estate.

The tension that had been between them had seemed to ease, allowing both to open up a little about themselves. She learned he was half-Irish and half-Italian, which both chuckled over being quite the combination of fire and even more fire… neither being sure which caused the more heat.

By the time dinner was over, he could see that Schell was waging a loosing battle with fatigue. Suggesting that maybe it was time for her to retire for the night led to a few protests about leaving him with the dishes after he had cooked the meal. His persuasion won over and as he washed up, she vanished into the master bedroom.

It was when he had finished up, drying a last dish that he turned and noticed no sound coming from the room, but that the door was still open and the light was on. He frowned a little, put the dish away, set the rag aside and approached her door.

He rapped first, before cautiously sticking his head in the room…

She was just sitting there, on the edge of the bed, her fingers woven together and wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a dark blue t-shirt at least two sizes too big. He looked at her inquisitively as she glanced up from staring at the floor.

"Schell?" he asked.

She smiled sheepishly and looked back down. He could see she was trying to work up the courage to ask something.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I'm…" she started to say, smiled at herself mockingly, and drew in a steadying breath of air. "I'm probably asking too much of this."

"Too much of what?" he asked.

"Too much of you, you've done just so much already…" she said quietly. He studied her a moment, smiling softly.

"What would you like?" he asked.

She toyed with her fingers a moment, before glancing at him shyly. "Um, I…" she sighed, her shoulders dropping before she finally asked, in a low voice, "Would it be too much to ask you to just stay here with me until I fall asleep?" She looked up at him cautiously.

Horatio paused a moment, studying her.

"I'm still that scared… I'm just so tired, and probably asking way too much, but I know I can't get to sleep after all that's happened…and I am not thinking straight at…." she found herself rambling and glanced up seeing him move out of the door, saying nothing.

"Oh gawd! You idiot…" she groaned quietly to herself, burying her face in her hands. She heaved a sigh, hearing him moving about the salon. She dropped her hands, hung her head, and bit her lip. She was struggling with herself, when she heard the light switch being flicked off in the galley and he reappeared in the doorway, shirt tails untucked and holding a blanket.

"Slide over…" he said.

She obeyed without a word, scooting closer to the bulkhead, pulling her own blankets up over her as he spread his out over them both. He stretched out with a sigh, as she turned onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. He flipped his own blanket over himself then laced his fingers behind his head and looked at her.

Schell looked at him for a moment, before smiling softly and looking at the blankets. "Thank you…" she murmured.

"Only until I know you're asleep…." he said quietly. She smiled a little more, and blushed.

"Okay," she nodded.

Then he smiled at her, gingerly rolled onto his injured side and mimicked her own position. "Don't take this for what its gonna sound like…" he said, trying to hide a slight smile on his face. "But just humour me and roll over onto your stomach."

Schell looked at him for a split second, an eyebrow rising in surprise, but then she snickered very softly and did as he asked, folding her arms under her chin she glanced at him, a slightly puzzled look on her face. Horatio nodded in satisfaction, then reached over and lifted her hair, settling it over her shoulder. He set his free hand on the nape of her neck, feeling the knots of tension there, as she looked askance at him.

"You aren't gonna last ten minutes…" he murmured, as he began to work his fingers into the muscles around her neck.

With a groan, Schell dropped her head forward, allowing his hand more access as she sagged into the bed. "I'm not gonna last five with this…" she managed to speak, sighing at the exquisite feel of having the tension rubbed out of her neck. Horatio only chuckled softly as she turned her head away from him, closed her eyes and sagged even more.

Nothing more was said as he massaged her neck and shoulders for a few minutes, other then Schell's sigh of relief. When he gently patted her back, she murmured, "I think you just turned me into a human puddle."

He had to lean over her to reach the light and he said quietly into her ear. "That was the idea."

Schell gently snickered, as he turned the light off. With the room plunging into darkness, he gently pulled her to him, her back to his chest, as he held her close. She was about to say something when he stopped her, "Shh," he hushed quietly, "Just close your eyes…"

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could barely make out the faintest smirk on her lips and she groggily murmured "Yes, Lieutenant…"

He chuckled in her ear, setting his head on hers and waited.

She barely lasted three minutes.

Feeling her relax in his arms, he propped his head back up and watched her as her breathing slowed to even breaths and she slipped off to a deep sleep. His intention was to move to the foreward bunk after she was completely out. He was as acutely aware of her proximity as she was his, yet to just lay there next to someone --after far too long a time-- was not to be passed up. He studied her a while, in the dim light, her features relaxed in sleep. With her unusual white hair, Schell had an ethereal prettiness about her and he allowed himself to simply just enjoy looking at her.

He, too was also tired, though not as much as Schell. Even so, Horatio was as close to being an insomniac as could be possible, considering his life, his job and the various horrors he had had to deal with during his entire career. That alone contributed to sleepless nights without number. As was his habit therefore, he began systematically reviewing--in his head-- the series of events and occurrences that he had encountered since meeting her. The scientist in him being exceptionally thorough at remembering details.

Feeling his arm going numb, he carefully shifted, wincing at the twinge of pain in his side. He idly wondered why it was injuries tended to hurt more at night when one was trying to relax enough to go to sleep. Accomodating his arm, he leaned over closer to Schell, holding her nearer to him, his fingers lightly stroking the soft skin under her wrist. He smiled a little, feeling wistful and not a little envious that she had dropped off to sleep so fast, then again, the poor thing was exhausted.

He was, in general, satisfied that Payton had taken the investigation's lead. His doing so probably was more for the fact that Horatio was now involved and as a visiting policeman from out of town, the professional courtesy was being extended. That allowed Horatio to relinquish his need to figure out the case on his own, and allowed him to concentrate on protecting Schell from any further danger.

Yet something was niggling him at the back of his mind and it wasn't about to leave him alone. Ironically (and to Horatio's amusement), it was Beckman himself who had first raised the question. He slipped his hand under Schell's fingers, lifting them up a little to study them again. She was a compact little furnace, he noticed, settling in closer, which wasn't a bad thing since he was something of a heat seeker in Seattle's far cooler climate. He let go of her fingers long enough to tug his blanket up around his neck as he sighed and relaxed.

How had Randall Thorpe known about the shooting at the studio so fast? Beckman's voice echoed in Horatio's skull. He frowned, not a bad question considering how lazy Beckman generally was. Just how had Thorpe found out about it? Considering his money and his clout, he had managed to find a contractor to put in a new door for the studio. A uniformed policeman having delivered the new keys to the boat while Payton was interviewing them. Horatio began reviewing the events from the time he had opened the studio door, to diving after Schell and dragging her to cover, to the police arriving after his call. In essance it hadn't taken Thorpe more then 20 minutes to arrive at the marina.

Schell had mentioned that Thorpe would drop by the studio on occasion in the mornings to see how the works progressed, but at around six in the morning? Schell had nixed that idea, saying he was more inclined to arrive around 10:30 to 11:00am.

So what had prompted Thorpe to get up so early? Shrewed in the habits of men, Horatio guessed that there was a sense of guilt lurking in there somewhere. Payton needed to know about that and maybe establish Thorpe's whereabouts for the last few days. Horatio heaved a sigh, reaching up to rub at his aching eyes. He curled Schell's fingers around his hand, and basked a moment enjoying the feel of her lying there next to him. She was such a small, very warm presence. He was thinking that he really didn't want to get up and move, when he closed his eyes just for a moment.

Before he realized it, he was dead asleep.