Chapter 11

AN: Thank you for the reviews...Here comes the next chapter...

After the shock of Derek walking out wore off, Penelope stood and ran towards the exit.

"Miss! What about your change?" the waiter called out, hurrying after her.

"Keep it!" she yelled over her shoulder as she bolted out the door in pursuit of Derek.

It was a late fall night, so it was dark rather early, and it had rained, making the streets slick. She hurried along in her high heels, and finally saw Derek walking down the street to the parking garage where his car must've been. He was speed walking. Derek was usually fast, but when he was angry, he practically left marks on the pavement.

A moment later, her foot slipped, and she luckily stabilized herself without falling. She wasn't going to make that mistake again. Hopping on her left foot, she removed her right heel, and then hopped on the right to remove her left. Looping the straps over her finger, she took off running at a faster pace.

"Derek," she called out when she got closer. "Morgan! Wait! Please!"

He stopped and turned to look at her, his expression completely unreadable.

She jogged over to where he was standing, grunting when she stepped on the occasional sharp rock. "Oof!" she said as she hit a particularly bad one about two feet away from him.

He scowled blackly at her. "Put your damned shoes on; you're going to catch pneumonia out here."

"Actually, that's a wives' tale," she retorted nervously, the first thing that popped into her head. It was cold and flu season; she'd been listening to Reid spout facts about that stuff too much!

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She bent over and slid her heels back on her battered tootsies, thinking she was going to need a serious pedicure after this was all said and done. "Derek, we need to talk," she pleaded.

Shaking his head, he answered, "We've already had that pleasure. I don't want to duplicate it."

"I didn't mean it like it came out! You should know that," she said. She couldn't keep the wounded hurt out of her voice. "You should know me."

"I thought I did know you, Penelope," he replied, the hurt obvious in his voice, too. "I thought you were beyond mean and dirty tricks."

"Derek!" she snapped. "You do know me better than that, damn you! Listen to me. Give me a chance to explain, and if you still don't want anything to do with me, I'll understand."

He crossed his arms over his chest in a show of an age old defensive mechanism. "Fine. Talk."

The air was growing more humid, and chilling down at the same time. Her breath was making fog as she spoke, but she didn't feel the cold. She needed badly to tell him; he had to know exactly how she was feeling. He had every right to know.

The beginning was the best place to start.

Taking a deep breath, she then exhaled it all and began speaking.

"You know I didn't think this was a great idea in the first place, finding a wife you didn't love so you could have kids."

"Yeah, I know," he said, and then laughed bitterly. "You probably sabotaged my dates to prove that to me..."

When he looked over at her, she knew she couldn't hide the guilty look on her face.

He shook his head, getting that very disappointed look on his face again. "Oh, P..."

"Derek, you said you'd listen," she yelled as he turned away. She was hoping to work on his sense of honor. She knew him, far better than he thought he knew her right now.

She watched as his fists made solid balls of muscle and bone, before relaxing. He turned to look at her. "Okay," he said with a clenched jaw. "Go on."

"I did sabotage your dates, but I didn't realize I was doing it," she rattled off quickly. She blushed beet red, and said, "Kevin had to tell me I was doing it."

"Lynch?"

She nodded. "And I was against this idea, not because of the reason you think, but for a completely different reason."

He scoffed. "What reason? Because it's funny? Because you think I should be alone?"

"I was against it because you're better than that idea," she whispered fiercely. She smiled then, but she could feel her lips tremble. "Because you're the finest man I know. Because you deserve someone to love, who loves you in return, and not just someone who would be adequate."

When he didn't respond, she began again. "Originally, I didn't want to go on the dates, but then I thought it would be one way to see if the women were really as bad as I'd thought they'd be, and to keep an eye on you to protect you for once-like you always do for me." She laughed bitterly. "Turns out, they were worse than I'd thought. None of them were anywhere near good enough for you."

"Penelope—"

She continued before he could say more. "It took Kevin telling me that no woman would be good enough for you, because I wanted you for myself. I knew he was right, but I was scared."

"Scared of what?" he asked, but his voice held no venom at all, only interest.

The pre-wintery wind whipped up and brought along some chilly rain with it. She felt misty droplets falling on her hair, and she'd left her jacket in the restaurant, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.

Derek slid his jacket off, and then put it over her shoulders. It was a warm mantle, heated from his body, and smelled like him. He gripped his collar and tucked it close to her.

"Scared of what, Penelope?" he murmured.

"I tried to tell you, D," she said, looking up at him, her eyes wet with tears. "I tried, and I completely froze. You were so determined to find a woman-someone else-on the computer..."

"That morning in my office," he said, understanding dawning on him.

She nodded. "I was so foolish, Derek. I wanted a chance, and I didn't see you seeing me any other way. So...I hacked into the MeetYourMatch system, put myself where you'd see it, and thought I'd get you to notice me differently that way, first."

"Didn't work," he said, and for the first time since they stood out there, he said it with a smile. "I knew almost immediately it was you."

"You did?" she asked.

"When I talked with you, flirted with you, and it was like I had my Garcia right there in front of me. That handsome sealed it. I was sure of it." He smiled softly. "That's the truth."

"So...so...when you said all that stuff about..." She paled, her heart sinking nervously. "Oh, God!"

He frowned again. "What?"

"You said you were falling in love with that girl, that she was gorgeous—"

"She is," he interrupted. "You are."

The rain was falling harder, soaking her hair and running off the tip of her nose. Her glasses were fogged; she took them off, put them in his jacket pocket, and then looked back up at him.

"Are you?" she whispered, looking up at him, her heart hanging on the precipice. Every ounce of longing for him, every little girl dream she'd planned, stood with her, balanced precariously. She'd never been so afraid in her life. "Falling in...love...with.."

He didn't answer her; instead, he pulled her into his arms and planted his lips on hers.