hello. chapter 10. thanks for the review & to those who read!

disclaimer: still owning nothing.

Chapter 10: That next place

It was raining. What could be more conducive to staying in bed? But then her eyes fell on Bruce, sleeping silently, half of his chest bared by the comforter.

She had to go with the latter of the two.

Of course she remembered last night. It almost ranked with the first night she spent with Malin…almost. But she now found it hard to believe she'd loved Malin in the same lifetime….simply because now, here she was, exactly where she knew she'd never be.

Ev sighed almost sadly—she was hopelessly, helplessly, reluctantly in love with this man beside her. But a lot of good it would do her. He led a dangerous double life and she was a screwed up nobody. Not much hope for a future there.

She sighed deeply, nuzzling against the cushy pillow and soft sheets, listening to the rain and sporadic thunder, trying not to think about their imminent goodbye. She felt him shift beside her and opened her eyes. Brown eyes were staring right back. She couldn't help but smile, feeling somewhat of a blush rush to her cheeks as she moved over against him, relaxing in his welcoming embrace.

"I shouldn't love you." She simply said, her face against his chest.

"I shouldn't either," he admitted, "too dangerous for you and you know so much about me—"

"And you about me."

"Sometimes secrets are the better choice." She raised her eyes to his and without thinking pressed her lips against his, as though it would be the last time. Easily he kissed her, gentleness and a sense of almost pleading passing through it.

"Even if we never speak again, it's enough to know that for one night, I felt loved." She admitted softly, snuggling back against his chest. Quickly he kissed her brow before tightening his arms around her. She moved closer in his embrace, secure in his arms.

"So why do we?" He softly asked. Her eyes drifted open.

"Maybe it's the one thing we want most but won't let ourselves have." She simply answered, a down note to her voice. He turned his head on the pillow and looked squarely at her, a genuinely questioning light in his eyes.

"You won't let yourself love or care?" She met his gaze, borderline panic and regret, even longing in her green eyes.

"No," she said softly, suddenly sitting up, her back to him, "it makes everything too complicated." She whispered, her voice strained with regret. She wrapped the discarded kimono around her and crossed her arms tightly around her stomach.

"But you want to—and you'd give anything to. If you could guarantee it wouldn't come back to ever hurt you." She looked sharply up at Bruce who was now sitting up.

"Since when did you become a psychiatrist?" She asked, a failed attempt at humor on her raw voice. He laughed silently, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I only know that because I know what its like— only to want to let someone know the real you, but you can't bring yourself to do it," he said solemnly, fighting to reign in his own inner demons, "some hurts of the past just run to deep."

"Exactly." She muttered distantly, almost in disbelief as he abruptly turned from her and slid into the dark blue robe at the foot of the bed. A silence fell between them, and neither could find words for it. Ev looked up from her crossed arms, biting her lip.

"Settled then," she definitively said, a hidden sadness to her words, as he walked towards her, "we don't love each other."

"No, we don't." Her eyes closed and a heavy sigh left her.

He walked up behind her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. She suddenly turned around and fell into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm securely around her, bringing the other to rest tenderly against the back of her head.

"Thank you Bruce. For everything," She said softly before pulling back from his embrace, "it means more to me than you'll ever know." She said, offering a weak smile and attempting to put a lightness in her voice. He narrowed his eyes playfully, an amused smile filling out his handsome face.

"You stole my line." She could not help but laugh as he stepped back from her, walking over to the door. "Meet you downstairs for breakfast in half an hour? And then we'll get you a cab back to the city."

"Oh thank you, but today is Monday and I'm late for work as it is." She quickly said, watching some disappointment creep to his eyes.

"Alright—you dress, I'll call you a cab, then I'll dress and then we'll meet downstairs." She nodded, meeting his smile before he turned and left with a soft click of the door handle.

Ev could kick herself for ending things with Bruce—nothing had ever felt so right, so meaningful even. And now she was willingly throwing it all away the next morning. But at least he agreed—it went both ways. In the end, this was the better move for them both.

She dressed in double quick time, seeing as how she was already an hour late for work and quickly flew downstairs, smiling only as she saw Bruce already waiting for her. Together they walked onto the porch, and sure enough, the cab was there, ready and waiting.

"So this is the end then?" She casually asked.

"It needs to be." He said, hiding the forced tone to his voice. She nodded understandingly.

"Right then," she offered him a quick smile before turning away, "thank you again," she called out, turning back around a few feet from him, "and cheerio." He returned her loose wave as she opened the cab door.

"See you around, Ev." The cab door snapped closed and he watched as it carried her back to the city. It couldn't go on—it would never work between them. This was the only reasonable solution, however much it was tearing at his heart. Or what was left of it.

Bruce closed the heavy set door behind him, walking listlessly through the entryway, spotting Alfred out of the corner of his eye, who looked as though he might slap him.

"Alfred?" Bruce asked, arching an eyebrow curiously, inviting the person closest to him to give his honest comment.

"It doesn't need to be anything," he wisely said, "now if you'll excuse me sir, breakfast needs attending to." Bruce could only glance blankly ahead as Alfred disappeared to the kitchen.

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It would have only raised suspicions had Evelyn Werren suddenly been declared criminally insane. Even the fact of her OCD wouldn't have been enough to justify it. And of course there had been that ever puzzling message from the Boss, strictly stating she was not to be harmed.

Well, blackening her memory and leaving her to fend for herself wasn't doing anybody any harm.

And if she didn't turn up for work, or if she turned up dead, Crane would pay all the proper respects—playing both the role of admiring colleague and assumed love interest. It could only serve to better favor his image, his cover up.

He locked his office door behind him, heading towards the front office. Suddenly Evelyn's 5'8", small curved figure rounded a corner in the shadowy hallway. He smirked with dark pride and disbelief—how convenient for her, convenient and lucky.

"Good morning Evelyn," Jonathon greeted, a smile on his slender face, "feeling better I trust?"

"Better, Jonathon?" She asked curiously, watching his brows crease almost worriedly.

"Why yes my dear, on Friday you were complaining about a most stubborn headache."

"Oh yes," she said shakily, quickly nodding and offering a smile, "I'm feeling much better thank you."

"Wonderful," he said, a lack

of true caring to his tone as he offered her a small, seemingly forced smile, "and of your tardiness this morning?" She felt a blush involuntarily rise to her cheeks.

"I just over slept," she said, hoping it sounded sincere enough, "my anti-depressant medication tends to make me drowsy." She quickly lied.

"Do you suffer from depression?" He asked, an interest in his voice.

"You didn't know that already?" She calmly asked.

"No, I don't make it a habit to research the mental health of my research assistants," he nonchalantly answered, choosing to keep his knowledge about her OCD secret for now, "how long?"

"Several years. It went untreated for a good many years, but now medicine takes care of it."

"Bipolar? Chronic? Psychotic?"

"Chronic…dysthymia." He nodded understandingly, now seeing the connections between that and her OCD. If only he'd known all that sooner….

"Well I never would have known it if you hadn't said something," he said, a lack of true care on his voice, as she nodded, a skeptical look in her green eyes. "Well, let's begin shall we?"

hope you enjoyed. please leave a review if'n ya wants, and if not, thanks for stopping by! next chapter hopefully up in the next week or two.