Disclaimer: I don't own these people.

Author's Note: Here is my transitional chapter. Hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER 5

Sheldon Hawkes

As consciousness struggles to surface, I am aware of three things: the morning sun streaming through my blinds, a crackling sound and an empty space beside me. Finally, I open my eyes, wincing a bit a the light. Then I notice the tantalizing smell of bacon, which explains the crackling sound. I head to the kitchen to solve the mystery of number three.

I quietly pad to the kitchen and see Lindsay, her back to me, looking oddly like a little girl in one of my T-shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms rolled up to the ankles. Her stance is tense as she moves bacon around in a frying pan. Ah. The morning after effect.

I don't alert her to my presence right away. I'm not sure of what to make of last night, either. One thing I do know is that Lindsay is not in love with me - that honor belongs to an undeserving Danny Messer - and, fond as I am of her, I'm not in love with Lindsay.

But last night was … incredible in its way. Gentle and comforting - odd terms for a sexual encounter, but it fits this one. Lindsay is a beautiful, passionate woman, and no matter what happens, I will never regret last night. It was what I needed - and I believe what she needed as well - at that time.

"Ahem." I say loudly. She jerks in response, turns around and gives me a tentative smile.

"Hungry?"

Lindsay Monroe

I watch pensively as a slow smile spreads across Sheldon's face. "Definitely … oh! And you made coffee. Thank God."

I return to cooking as Sheldon fuels up, and a short time later we settle at the table. He whistles softly at the spread - a rasher of bacon, scrambled eggs, French toast and fresh fruit. Luckily for me he had a well-stocked kitchen. "Are you expecting someone?" he asks, a teasing smile on his lips.

"Ummm … no." I stammer. "I tend to cook when I'm nervous. It's amazing I'm not 300 pounds."

"You have nothing to be nervous about, Lindsay."

"I know, I just - I guess I don't want you to think you owe me anything. Last night was, I don't know, an anomaly?" Isearch for the right words. "That's not it … look, Sheldon, I know you don't love me, and last night was just, well …"

He stands, walks over and pulled me out of my chair, holding my hands. "Last night was two good friends comforting each other in their time of need. What do you think of that?"

I stare into his eyes and see nothing but honesty. "I think that sounds good. And we probably shouldn't …"

"… Let that happen again, I agree. But I'm not sorry it happened, Lindsay. We both needed someone, and I'm just glad you were the someone I had with me. No regrets, okay?"

He pulls me into a warm hug. "Agreed." I say, muffled against his chest. He drops a peck on my head. "So what do you say we make a dent in this feast?"

And hour later, we've eaten and I've showered. Sheldon, who tells me just to keep the pants, walks me to the door. "So," I say,"see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely." That smile again. It's unspoken that the night will stay between us.

I turn to leave, but go back and hold my hand out. "Friends?"

Sheldon takes my hand and reaches up with the other, touching my cheek tenderly.

"Always."

It's official: Faith Jones is an idiot.

Hawkes

Lindsay and I are true to our word not to let our "anomaly" affect our jobs, and the next week proceeds uneventfully, although I sense a bit of tension from Danny.

As for Lindsay, I'm glad we're okay, because she is a real friend, the kind that don't pop up very often. We continue to be close, meeting for lunch. If anything, we're better friends now, the tension that often exists between friends of the opposite sex gone, the curiosity solved. A new intimacy exists - just a touch here and there - but a platonic one.

Before she left, Lindsay and I spoke of new beginnings. As for her, I'm not sure she's entirely ready to let go of Messer yet, and who knows - if he gets his act together … He really isn't a bad guy, he's just had a tough go of it lately. But soon, I worry he will have blown any chance with her.

As for me? Well, I guess I'll just wait and see what happens. Faith will never change, and I have to recognize that. Now I just need a sign of where to go next.

As if on cue, Nicole Tucker, the sketch artists who specializes in working with children who witness crimes, rounds the corner. We worked together a few weeks back on that single mother who was murdered, and I liked her instantly. She's intelligent, genuine and beautiful - her skin is mocha, and her hair a flowing mass of curls.

"Dr. Hawkes. How are you?"

"Sheldon, please. I'm fine. Where are you headed?"

As we proceed down the hallway, I can't help but think a new beginning may be exactly what I need.

TBC