A/N: I've got this feeling my creativity level is plummeting. argh. I hope this chapter makes the impact it's supposed to. Enjoy!

Analyze and Realize

I refused to shed any more tears. Leaning against the door, I felt its solidness beneath me. Surely it won't fail me? I pressed the back of my head to the door and counted, slowly, to ten.

One, two. Time taken to catch my breath and slow the heart, beating madly.

Three, four. I could still hear Danny shuffling about in the living room.

Five, six, seven, eight. The door closed with a thud, and the apartment was left in an envelope of silence.

Nine, ten. I held back the sob embedded in my throat and slid away from the door.

He was gone. Finally. The finality was loud, contrasting starkly against the atmosphere of my room. He may never return. What had I done?

I needed to keep my hands busy, it seemed. So I pondered over the question as I cleaned my apartment, started from the bathroom. Pulling the rag resolutely across the tiles was a distraction from the tempting appeal to cry. It worked, just as I desired, no more tears trickled across my cheeks. I did what I do best -- analyzing.

Sorting out my emotions was tough, probably because they were an intense tangle, vicious as a tumor. There was sadness; that I had lost something wonderful. Anger; because Danny had cheated on me. Regret; for the words I had said to him.

It struck me right there and then. I loved him. No, I love him. Beyond the care and concern I had for his wellbeing and the liking of his hands around mine was a deeper wanting to be with him. I wanted him to pull me in his arms but that was not possible because he was the one who had hurt me in the first place. Damn him. Good job, Lindsay, fall in love with a rumored player. Damn him, again.

I drove home, slowly. On the way, I stopped to get a six-pack. I was going to need each one of them to drown my remorse. I am a tough guy and no way was I going to cry over a woman. Urgh. I parked and got out, lifting the six-pack off the seat and realized that no amount of beer was going to replace Lindsay. Damn her for making me so emotional.

After three-point-five cans of beer I peered dejectedly at the other two cans sitting on the table before me. I find it strange the uncertainty of things in life. When everything is flowing along smoothly and I was certain I could do nothing to upset her terribly, I did. And in the most unexpected manner.

Some time ago I was a skeptic who believed that men can only lust and never love. Trying to get drunk over a woman never really happened to me, and here I was, gazing forlornly with my mind wandering to a certain brunette with wavy hair and big brown eyes. Yeah, I guess Lindsay's managed to creep her way into my heart, and I love her. I've never told her that before, though. Wow, not only do I fear commitment, I fear rejection. Maybe I can't trust anyone, you never know who will sell you out.

But her smile, I would kill to see her smile again. I love her voice too, not when she was screaming her lungs out at me earlier on, but when she's thinking in the lab. Her voice makes me smile and brightens my day. Before I started hallucinating of a minx from Montana I pressed number 4 on my speed dial.

I called Stella. She was probably the most sane person around to deal with this iffy situation. I couldn't possibly ask Mac, could I? He'll probably fire me, besides Lindsay would kill me if I told Mac about us. Flack? He would've screwed up the whole thing even more, and laugh his ass off once I told him what happened. The guy could be my best friend but no way is he talking to Lindsay. I figured Stella would be more successful than guys when tuning into the extremely confusing and highly sinusoidal wavelength of female logic. I'm sorry, but sometimes I really don't understand women.

My words came out in a rush. I couldn't remember exactly what I said but I hoped Stella understood the gist of my garbled message:

Tell Lindsay I'm sorry.

Not sure if my words meant quite the same thing, though.

I was beginning to spiral down a deep tunnel of thoughts when my cell phone rang. Throwing the rag back into the pail of water (I had reached my kitchen), I rushed out to find my phone.

"Hello?" I was a little worried about the identity of the caller.

"Lindsay." Phew, it was not Danny.

"Stella?"

"I'm right outside your door, can I come in?"

I hung up and smoothened my hair, before opening the door. She was standing at the threshold, curly haired and big eyed. I moved aside to let her in. "Danny sent you."

She didn't miss the accusation in my voice. "He did." Good, at least she was being honest.

"Want anything to drink?"

She awarded me with a tiny smile, "Some coffee would be nice."

I started the coffee maker and excused myself. My clothes were soaking wet from the cleaning and I was pretty sure my hair was sticking out in a dozen different directions. When I returned from my room, Stella was seated on my couch. I sat across her. "Uh…so what's up?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary," she teased, "except that I received a phone call at nine in the morning on my off day from a colleague who sounded terrible, saying that another colleague of mine was very angry at him."

The corners of my lips turned up slightly. "And did that first coworker explain the situation to you?"

"Yes, but he was distraught, and I couldn't hear him clearly. Said something about the case and you ignoring him and breakfast. If I'm not wrong there was some issue about being kicked out of an apartment and him being sorry."

"Danny didn't tell you what he did?"

Stella clasped her fingers together and sighed dramatically, "I'm guessing not, since I told you all I heard."

I got up to get her the cup of coffee, "I guess you want to know then."

"Yep."

I handed the mug to her and sat on the couch, next to her, breathing in the scent of coffee. "He kissed another woman, yesterday, at the crime scene." If it hadn't happened to me, I would've thought of a scenario as such as ridiculous and laughable.

Stella nearly spat out her mouthful of coffee. "What! That jerk!"

What could I say to that? I just nodded dumbly, misery settling like a cloud over my head once more.

"I'm sorry." Stella placed the mug down on the table, there was no more need for caffeine to stay awake, "I'm going to kill him."

"No, Stell, I have a problem."

She gave me a look, full of question and also of concern.

"I don't think I can forgive him so easily…"

"Then don't, like I said, I'm going to have a little chat with him about the definition of a relationship." She said she was going to kill him, hmm, the idea sounds pretty swell to me.

"That's not the crux of the problem," I forced myself to stare into her eyes, "I can't forgive him, and I don't want to see him, but I think I love him."

From the incredulous glint in her eyes, I think she understood what a compromising situation I was stuck in. I was grateful when she pulled me into a hug.

Trusting…now that's a tricky word. Repeat it a few more times and you really start to hate the sound of it. How do you believe the warmth in 'I trust you' when it's oozing with warmth? The word's kinda like a crook, beckoning you to trust him when he was the most cruel, twisted being alive. Maybe because it's used too much, like how 'I love you's don't mean much if you keep saying it. It's tiring, especially when you're half drunk, to think about all the double meanings behind words and hurt and pain and idiots like myself.

I've got a feeling Lindsay's got issues with faith and trust too, I see that when she stands somewhere with her arms across her chest, with a strange light in her eyes. That's why she keeps insisting she can protect herself, or that she doesn't need anyone to help her. Stubborn girl. In this semi-drunk state I find myself shaking my head gloomily, and amplifying the already huge headache I have.

What's next? I knew the question we were both going to avoid asking and answering.

Is it over?

I hoped Stella could have a breakthrough with Lindsay. Relationships are such tricky things; and I can't seem to remember how my skeptical viewpoint came about in the first place.

A/N: whee! Do review and give me your honest feedbacks. Thank you.