The night air is charged with electricity; thunder rolls in the distance. Sharon can hear it as she walks to the hospital parking lot followed closely by a detective from the LAPD's Robbery-Homicide Division. She gets in her car alone, and drives to the entrance of the hospital where Andy sits waiting for her in a wheelchair. The robbery-homicide detective pulls up behind her car, and waits while Sharon helps Andy into her vehicle. Both cars drive away from the hospital; at 1:00 a.m. there aren't many cars on the road, so it doesn't take long for Sharon to drive Andy home. Rain starts to fall as Sharon pulls into his driveway. The detective parks near Andy's house, but doesn't leave the car. He'll spend what's left of the night in covert surveillance of the residence.

Sharon helps Andy out of the car, and into the house through the back door. As soon as he's settled on the couch, she walks back to the kitchen to double-check that the back door is locked. She does the same with the front door.

"Are you going to check the windows too?" asks Andy.

"Should I?"

"No, I know they're locked. Sharon, honey please calm down. We're perfectly safe."

She sits next to him, and pulls his right hand between her hands. "You don't know that," she tells him with trembling lips. "I could've lost you," she says as her eyes start to mist. A tear escapes the corner of her eye. He lightly touches her face, and brushes the moisture away with his finger. She can't continue staring in his soulful brown eyes; it's too intense. She has to look down, and breathe deeply in an effort to stop crying. She hasn't allowed herself to fall apart before now.

He lifts her chin up, looks deeply in her eyes and says, "Believe me, I'm going to be okay."

She can see the pain and worry etched on his face. Also, there's something in his eyes she hesitates to name. He looks at her like he could love her, but she wonders if it's too soon for that. As he closes his eyes, and leans in to kiss her, a bolt of lightning briefly illuminates the darkness a second before all the lights go out.

Sharon jumps up from the couch to peer out the window. "Looks like we have no electricity. The street lights are out," she says. "Do you have any candles?"

"There's a flashlight in the drawer next to the stove, and there should be a couple of candles and some matches in the same drawer," Andy answers.

As Sharon attempts to make her way to the kitchen in the darkness; Andy's cell phone rings. The detective, sitting outside the house, is calling to make sure they're safe.

"Yeah, we're fine," says Andy. "Hopefully, the electricity will come back on soon. Just sit tight."

She walks back into the living room, with the flashlight and candles, and asks, "What else can go wrong before the sun comes up?"

"Hey, this isn't so bad," he replies. "I think it's romantic."

"Andy, it's not romantic; it's scary. Someone tried to hurt you, and that someone is still out there. Please, tell me again exactly what happened because I just can't wrap my mind around it."

"I understand, but first I need you to help me get out of these clothes and get comfortable. We both need to try to rest for a few hours," he says.

She helps him to his bedroom by candlelight. He sits on the edge of the bed while she attempts to remove his suit jacket without hurting him. He has a sprained left wrist, a twisted ankle and a bruised rib and face. He also has a bruised ego, but he's not sure he's ready to talk about that just yet.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind for the first time you're in my bedroom," he says.

"Oh, really? Well, I'm glad you still have your sense of humor. Honestly, I don't find any of this to be funny."

"No, it's not funny, but I'm still glad you're here."

He reaches down and touches her hair. She's kneeling in front of him, untying his shoes, when she feels his fingers lightly brush the side of her head. She looks up and smiles at him.

"Come here," he says.

She sits next to his uninjured side; he wraps his arm around her and leans in to kiss her hard. His lips are rough, and he pushes his tongue inside her mouth. There's nothing romantic or old-fashioned about this. It's instinct. It's primal. He needs to feel alive, and she needs to know that they're not over. They've just begun. In this moment, the electricity is restored.