14.

As Calleigh was revealing what she had learned to her colleagues, Horatio was riding the elevator to Schell'sapartment. He had asked her to breakfast, despite having spent the majority of the night working things out for Officers Reed and O'Rielly plus several other things that needed to be worked on in relative peace. He hadn't even been home.

The first thing he noticed, besides coffee brewing, was the fact that Schell had the AC off. November in Miami did bring cooler temperatures and for the first time since moving in, she had opened up two sets of her sliding glass doors. She was out on the deck, leaning against the rail, lost in thought. This particular morning also brought something else unusual; Miami was shrouded in a rare fog.

He could see she was listening to the steady pound of the surf on Lummus Beach and that she looked content and relaxed. He liked her preference for jumpers, too, (in his eyes they just added more to her femininity) and today she was wearing a faded denim one with a pale green t-shirt. As he pulled the gate back, letting himself in, he also spotted a third canvas set up on another easel and frowned slightly. She certainly had been busy since he had seen the completed sketch on the second painting --the day he had fallen asleep on the couch-- now that sketch was in the preliminary painting stage, and the first was noticeably advanced in details. She was wasting no time in trying to catch up.

She turned at hearing the gate open and smiled as she came back inside the apartment.

"Hi…" she said, glancing at him as he paused in the kitchen.

"Hi yourself," he murmured as she slipped past him and snagged another mug off the rack. Pouring him a cup, she looked over at him. He was dressed in a light grey suit, with a dark blue shirt, and when he looked over at her getting him a cup she could see the dark smudges of fatigue under his eyes.

"How long have you been working?" she asked. He smiled slightly as she turned, holding his cup in both hands.

"How long have you been working?" he asked back, nodding at the third canvas.

She gave him a faint smirk, her eyes winking mischief then she said, "Let me rephrase that, Lieutenant, when did you sleep last?"

"I'll plead the fifth," he said in reply, his eyes looking at the coffee cup steaming in her hands. "Where would you like to go for breakfast?"

"I think I have a better idea," she said, looking at him as he lifted his gaze to hers.

"And that is?" He asked.

Schell smiled, and walked up to him. Searching his face as he took the coffee from her she said. "How about I just make you breakfast? Okay?" she reached up, setting a hand on his cheek, causing him to blink slightly in mild surprise. "We don't need to go anywhere."

"No Rosinella's for breakfast?" he asked, looking down at her as she lightly rubbed his chin with her thumb.

Schell smiled at him, "We can go there another time. If there is one thing about you I have learned here in Miami, it's that you are always on the clock." She dropped her hand as he lifted the cup to sip at his coffee, raising an eyebrow up at her words.

"True," he admitted. "But that's no excuse not to go out for breakfast."

"It is when you are looking drop dead tired," she replied. "Come on," she said smiling and reaching up to take his arm, steering him towards the couch. "Breakfast is on me."

"The last time I sat here, I fell asleep," he said in mild argument.

"And your point is?" she asked as he turned slightly. He was suddenly aware of her hands on his shoulders, and stiffened slightly, beginning to turn around. "Horatio," she chided gently. "Relax, I just want to take your jacket."

"I think you've made up my mind for me," he replied and shrugged his shoulders, let the jacket slip back, then switched the coffee cup from one hand to the other as she took his jacket from him. Sitting down with a sigh, taking another sip of the coffee, she disappeared a moment into her bedroom, getting a hanger from the closet. She hung the coat on the hanger, then carefully balanced it on the edge of the bedroom door's upper frame.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, hunting down her cup.

He glanced sideways, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "No, why should I mind?"

"Well…" she said, "I know you're tired, Horatio. And please don't think I am going to ask why, don't get me wrong. But I know you're running on fumes. So why not take it a little easy?" She walked up behind him, set her cup on the end table to his right, then leaned over the couch, placed her hands on his tense shoulders again and tugged to get him to sit back. He complied, letting out a sigh.

"Besides," she said, as she prodded his neck with her thumbs a moment. "You have been spoiling me rotten for the last two weeks, it's my turn."

He was about to say something when she began lightly massaging his neck. Instead all he could do was let out a groan at the delicious feel of having his tense shoulders firmly, but gently massaged. Schell let out a soft snicker of delight as he started to tip his head back, thought better of it and dropped his head forward.

"I cannot…" he said, "I cannot fall asleep on this couch, again," he repeated as she found tight spots and knots all along his neck and shoulders.

"You're wound up tighter then an eight day clock, sir." She said, and he snorted slightly in amusement before she found a particularly hard knot and began working her thumbs into it. Realizing she wasn't going to let up, nor did he particularly want her to, he set his cup next to hers. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes, admitting to himself that he really was wiped out. He settled back into the couch, sighing in relief as she carefully worked her thumbs slowly up the back of his neck and into his scalp. The feeling was exquisite, for them both...

"What did you plan for breakfast?" he asked, trying not succumb to the urge to sleep. Schell's hands slowly worked back down to his neck and shoulders and started in on parts of his back.

"A Northwest specialty," she said, enjoying his reaction.

"Hmmm?" he queried, leaning forward a little for her hands to reach across his shoulder blades. He could tell she was smiling at him.

"Smoked Salmon Benedict," she said, working back up to his neck before lightly rubbing her hands over his neck and shoulders and 'finishing' off the massage. As she took her hands away, he twisted slightly and caught one of hers in his.

"Thank you…" he murmured, and lightly kissed the back of her hand. Schell smiled at him, reaching up to set a hand on his cheek.

"Any time," she murmured back, smiling just for him, before looking at him inquisitively. "Need a refill?"

Horatio smiled, nodded, and released her hand. As she went for the coffee, he stood up, rolling his decidedly more relaxed shoulders and wandered over to the drafting table, where the sketch for the third painting sat.

"Marie Celeste?" he asked.

"Ah, ah, Sherlock, read it again," she joked, pouring coffee then retrieving items out of her refrigerator. She came over to where he stood, studying the drawing in question.

"Mary Celeste?" he asked, and looked at her as she handed him another cup.

"Originally built in Nova Scotia at Spenser Island in 1861 and was christened the Amazon; she was a little, 103 foot, two-mast brigantine. When she accidentally grounded seven years later in the Bay of Fundy she was refloated and renamed Mary Celeste."

"This is the same Celeste of the legend, right?" he asked, before sipping coffee, his head tilting as he studied the drawing of a ship grounding into a reef.

"Yes," she said. "On December 13th, 1872 she was found drifting off the Azores near Gibralter by the ship Dei Gratia, her crew was completely missing and it appeared they all left in a great hurry. The Dei Gratia's captain, who knew Captain Briggs of the Mary Celeste, was stupefied as to why the captain and his crew would abandon the ship. Briggs, his family, and crew were never found. Not so much as a trace of them. Dei Gratia'scaptain declared Mary Celeste a derelict vessel and promptly filed salvage rights for her. When they got her to port, the legend began."

Schell turned, heading back into the kitchen. "But to answer your question, Mr. Holmes…" she said with mischief in her voice. "She was written up in a story called, 'J. Habakkuk Jepson's Statement', renamed Marie Celeste and guess who the author was?"

She turned and looked at him, reaching up above the kitchen island to pull down a pan from the rack built over it.

Horatio smirked, glanced down, tucked his chin in and said, "Arthur Conan Doyle?"

"Can't get too much past you," she said with a smirk, turning on a gas burner, then reaching up and taking down a small pot.

"I am a detective…" he remarked dryly.

"Very true," she replied, glancing at him and smiling. Horatio turned to look at the drawing.

"So why is it you are doing a painting of the Celeste? How does that tie into Florida history?" he asked.

"It doesn't, this is for a private commission."

"A private one?" He asked.

"Yeah, and mostly because the Mary Celeste is one of those shipwrecks where the truth is stranger than fiction."

"Really?" he asked, and glanced at her as she began working on preparing ingredients for the breakfast she planned.

"Really. You see, Mary Celeste sailed another 12 years after the disappearance of her crew. But the bad luck had stuck to her and in desperation, her last captain tried to do something about it. He insured the ship and her cargo for an ungodly amount of money then deliberately scuttled her on Rochelais Reef in Haiti. Only thing was that Mary Celeste decided not to sink and when the insurance folks found her, she was carrying a cargo of rubber boots and cat food."

Horatio turned to look at her again, a slight smile of surprise on his face.

Schell grinned at him. "Needless to say, they weren't amused at the scam and the captain was arrested and convicted of fraud. The ship, however, had one last act to pull. When the insurance company tried to refloat her? She was hulled and sank. Today she is reputed to have the most beautiful coral formation in the Carribean, and the locals use the slice she cut through the reef as a place to launch their fishing boats."

"Truth is stranger than fiction, sometimes," Horatio said, taking another sip of coffee before wandering over to look at her other works.

"But Mary Celeste still wasn't finished," Schell replied with her hint of mischievousness. Horatio glanced at her again. "She was written about by one famous author, and her wreckage was found by another."

"That being?"

"Clive Cussler, the man of Dirk Pitt fame. He really does go around in his off time and searches for historic shipwrecks. He has a guy that makes models of his finds for him, fella named Christopher Hickock. Mr. Hickock was kind enough to send me some of his details and sketches of the ship from the model he made for Mr. Cussler."

"Clive Cussler," Horatio remarked. "Isn't he the one that also found the Confederate submarine CSS Hunley?"

"Yeah," Schell said, smiling as she filled her pan with a little water to begin poaching the eggs.

"So you've been getting private commissions on top of the Trust commission?" he asked.

"Uh huh. Never hurts, and eventually I do need to get my own car." Schell replied, as she began setting about making the hollandaise sauce for their breakfast. Wandering his way back into the kitchen, he came around and stood beside her, watching her cook. He leaned a hip onto the counter, his hands loosely holding the cup.

"I've, um, actually been thinking about that," he said to her in a soft voice.

"Thinking about?" she asked, working a whisk into the sauce.

"You, needing a car."

Schell paused, looking at him, curiously. "You have?"

He nodded, looking down at the cup in his hands, and smiling to himself. "I've been thinking about several things, lately."

Schell, still stirring, looked at him again, this time betraying a little confusion.

"I, uh…" he said slowly, " I umm, have a car I rarely drive, especially since I took over the Crime lab four years ago. I mostly drive the Hummer, now. I was thinking," he looked at her, with that slightly puppy-eyed look that could stop her breathing in a click. "I was thinking of letting you use it."

Schell paused, lifted the pan from the element so as not to burn the sauce, and looked at him in surprise.

"Use your car?" She asked him, "Why?"

Horatio looked down again and she could see he was thinking about something. She returned the pan to the burner, gently stirring sauce, and let him collect his thoughts.

"Remember that night when we took the walk along the marina?" he murmured. Schell glanced at him and nodded, suddenly feeling her heart beating triple time. Her mouth went dry.

"Yes," she said slowly, thinking back on their time in Seattle.

"I, umm, said to you that it was not a good time to further anything between us because you were very vulnerable, then."

"Yeah," she said, looking down at the sauce. "I remember that," she glanced his way shyly… "What's that got to do with your car?" she asked, searching his face carefully.

"I was thinking…." he said slowly, still eyeing his cup before his gaze slowly lifted to meet her own. "I was thinking that maybe now you might consider seeing what could happen next?"

"Umm," she said, blinking a little, glancing at the sauce, then at him. "Consider?" She asked trying to absorb his words.

He paused, studying her a moment, then smiled slightly.

Schell looked up at him. "Um…" she stammered, looking at the sauce, then at him again. She suddenly smiled, looking away and feeling a little embarrassed. "I don't know what to say…"

Horatio smiled with her, then reached up and set the cup aside. "You only need to say to yes."

"How could I tell you no…?" she murmured, looking at him as he reached over and gently pulled her hair back over her shoulder. He only smiled at her, his eyes searching her face, a hint of query lurking in the depths as he waited, his hand resting gently at the back of her neck.

Schell, turning pink, glanced away from his searching eyes, stirred the sauce, then turned to look at him. All the while trying to ignore the feeling his hand was creating in her. "What?"

"Yes or no?" he murmured, with a pixyish grin. Schell blushed, looking down at her toes, then glanced at him.

"Yes…" she whispered. Then she looked up at the ceiling abruptly, smiled and laughed. "Did this just really happen?"

Horatio stood up straighter, smiled and pulled her towards him before gently kissing the top of her forehead. "Uh huh, and we'll talk more, later. Where's the juicer? I'll get the lemon ready before you burn that sauce."

"Oh, you tease!" She laughed.

Horatio simply loved to hear her laugh…