Disclaimer: Don't own it. I mean, except for the plot, but even that came from Janet's spoilers. Sigh.

Chapter 2- Dipping the quill in the company ink (or having the company quill dipped in your ink) and other misadventures

I sighed as I took the step out of the elevator, and saw Joe sitting in front of my door. His hair, as usual, needed cutting, and his 5 o'clock shadow was well past 7.

"Morelli."

He stood, taking in the slightly mussed hair, and the skirt, zipper up my thigh instead of its normal place on my back.

"Shit, Steph, what am I doing here?"

"I don't—."

"Oh, come on. You know what I'm talking about."

"No. Sorry. Failing to fill in the blanks."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

I stood stock still, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up in anger, bristling.

"Excuse me?"

"Stephanie, cut the crap. Are you sleeping with Ranger?"

I opened and closed my mouth several times, then, in a haze of rage, I brushed past him, pulling a key out to unlock the door. My voice shook as I spoke. "You have NO right to accuse me of—."

"What? Sleeping with the boss?"

"Of sleeping with anyone!" I turned. "What the hell gave you the idea that I was sleeping with him?"

"The sex hair's a major clue in."

Flustered, I swung my door open and shoved myself in, throwing off my shoes at the door, unbuttoning the first two buttons of my blouse. "I got my hair caught in some buttons."

"Whose buttons?"

"Well…Rangers. He leaned over behind me to show me something and… why am I explaining this to you?"

He followed me into my apartment, watching me as I pulled my hair from it's haphazard bun—Ranger's doing, not that Morelli needed to know that—and dropped a raisin in Rex's cage.

"I'm trying to find one situation where this could be construed as understandable."

"What? Getting my hair stuck in buttons?"

"You! Working for him! For Ranger, who stares at you like a kid staring at his brand new bike! I'm not an idiot, I see the way he looks at you; and I see the way you look at him!"

"The way I look at him? What are you—?"

"Steph, you're not exactly secretive about the way you look when you're unclothing people with your eyes. You've obviously, at some point, slept with him before now. Whether or not I was in the picture when it happened is debatable, but…"

"When are YOU ever really in the picture?"

"WHAT?"

"Oh, don't you get defensive on me. You know damn well you've never really helped me out. You've never once supported my decisions, in anything, especially not my job. You want to turn me into my sister, the amazing cooking, baby-popping housewife. That's not me, he knows that! You obviously don't. You've never been there."

"And he has?"

"Yes! Yes, he's always been there for me. From day one, he's helped me out. Granted, it's not like he expects me to be this amazing bad ass bounty hunter from hell; but he knows he can't change my decision and so he goes with it."

"From day one."

I snapped my fingers. "The moment we met. He taught me the basics, helped me find you, trained me up as best he could. Got me out of sticky situations."

"Like?"

Before thinking of the consequences, I jumped the bandwagon. "Like being naked and chained to a shower curtain rod and not wanting to call the fucking Marines."

It was then that the silence really permeated the room, and I understood about real silence. This was the worst kind.

"You're telling me, that even back then you two were…"

"We weren't doing anything. He unlocked me a gave me a towel."

"So the sex started…"

"Oh, all the cards are out on the table now, aren't they? You want to talk about dipping the quill in the company ink, let's talk about Gilman."

"What does Terry have to do with this?"

"Everything. You get so defensive about my working relationship with a man I consider a really close friend, a man who'd do anything for me, a man I just so happen to have had sex with. What about YOU?"

"A man you've had sex with? So you finally admit it."

"Oh, please, so not the point."

"No, it is the point! Stephanie, we can't DO this! We're supposed to be civilized adults, with steady jobs and decent relationships! I'm 33 and all I have to show for it is a woman I occasionally sleep with and a job in vice."

"You can't do this? This whole thing about getting married? Look at us! We aren't even together and we're fighting! People don't do this! Not normal, civilized people with stable jobs and decent relationships!"

I turned away from him, facing the kitchen counter and hoping against hope I would hear the door in the hallway shut softly.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying…" I turned back to him, knowing this had to be a face-to-face thing. "We can't do this. We need stability. You are anything but stability. Me and you…we don't do stability. And that's something we both need. Something we can't give each other."

He was silent for a beat. "So this is it?"

"This is it, Joe. It's not fair to either of us to stay like this."

He closed his eyes briefly, and I could tell he was concentrating solely on breathing. Then, just as quickly, he opened them again, and gave me a long look.

"I can't stop loving you."

"Honestly? I'll probably always love you, Joe. But it just isn't enough."

He gave a curt nod, and I stepped forward to squeeze his hand. "You're a great guy, Morelli. Let someone find out."

He stared into my eyes, and I realized it was the first time in all the years I'd known him that I'd seen tears there. "Be careful, Cupcake. I don't want you to get hurt."

I smiled, and nodded. "I'll be careful."

Joe gave a final soft smile, and turned to go. I followed him out, leaning against the doorjamb as he collected his coat and made his way out.

"Hey," I said, as he made his way out my door. His eyes turned up to mine. "Maybe we can go for pizza some times. Try out the friends thing."

He bit his lip. "We could try."

"It'll be a new thing. No dragging you back to the apartment afterwards for anything but a Rangers game."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Don't be a stranger."

He shook his head, a smirk on his face. "I couldn't be a stranger if I tried, Steph. I'll be getting calls about exploding cars years from now."

I wrinkled my nose at him. "Are you insinuating something?"

"I'm insinuating that you periodically blow up cars and get yourself into trouble, and that I'll always be in it. It's inevitable. A weird case of constant kismet."

"Odd, that."

"Yeah."

We watched each other for a while, and I took his face in, the curve of his jaw, the knife scar, the amazing brown eyes I loved so much. I knew this would be the last time I could do this, unguarded, and I knew soon enough, he'd have another woman to take in his face, memorize every muscle on his body. I hoped she'd treat him well.