A/N: First let me say, thank you, thank you for the kind reviews and encouraging words. Second, I'm going to vent a little. I was really disappointed with Monday's episode. They gave me zero Steve and Lori to work with. In fact, I'm a little worried that the haters have been heard and Lori might not even be around next season. That said, I have decided to take my own liberties with these two characters. I will work off of the episodes as they air, but these two are now officially "out of cannon". Thanks for reading!

Chapter 9: Even in Slumber

Lori jumped in response to the soft knock on the door. She had fallen asleep on the couch again. Growing up in the oversized Weston home, she had always felt so small. She went from the crib to a king sized bed that all but swallowed her whole. Most nights she would sleep cross ways, pushed up against the head board and curled in around a large pillow. These days, she slept best on the couch comforted by the feel of the tall cushions tucked in behind her back. 11:00 PM, a little late for a friendly caller. She tripped on the quilt that had been covering her. Wadding it up, she tossed it on the floor and grabbed her gun from the drawer of the end table. She tiptoed to the door. Through the peep hole, she saw the back side of a tall man in a green T-shirt and cargo pants as he turned to go. Quickly slipping the safety back in place on the gun, she unlocked the dead bolt and pulled the front door open with more force than was necessary raking the bottom of the door over her bare foot. "Ouch!," she growled and hopped into the hall on one foot. "Steve!" she called, but he had already turned back in response to her growl.

"You ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, cheeks flushed. She rolled her eyes at her own clumsiness. "I hurt my toe."

The tension in Steve's face looked almost painful. The air around him seemed to crackle. Lori searched his eyes. They were a dark green, the color of deep ocean. "Are you ok?" she prodded.

He stretched his neck, drew in a long breath and tilted his chin ever so slightly to the side. He was definitely not ok.

"Come inside," she instructed and he did, without argument.

Steve crossed into Lori's apartment and planted himself square in the middle of her living room. Lori locked the door and turned to find him in a very Steve-like stance, arms crossed over his chest, legs wide, intensity oozing from every pore. She ignored the thrill that began in her toes and landed low in her gut. Lori mimicked his stance. "What happened?"

Steve looked past her, gathering his thoughts. She could see that he was struggling to keep it together. "I just left Joe. Noshimuri took him, knocked him around. He thinks he killed his father."

She thought twice before speaking. "Did he?" she asked calmly.

Steve dropped his hands by his side and shook his head back and forth wildly. He started pacing. "First Chin, now you. I trust him... I…"

Lori reached him in three long strides. She planted herself in front of him forcing him to still. Sadness enveloped his face. Lori tentatively raised her hands to his biceps. He leaned into her touch and she slid her hands to his shoulders, pausing momentarily to judge his response. She felt his arm slide around her waist. Seemingly of their own volition, her hands landed behind his neck. He all but collapsed into her embrace. He held her tightly, his other arm encircling both of her shoulders. She molded herself to him, rising to her toes to rest her chin comfortably on his shoulder. She felt him relax and in a muffled whisper, he spoke, "I'm just so tired of getting nowhere with all of this."

She squeezed him tighter in response. They stood, swaying back and forth almost imperceptibly. Steve needed someone to shoulder the burden even if only temporarily. Lori was more than happy to be the one to do it. Steve squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his forehead to her shoulder. He willed himself to relax his grip, missing the warmth as soon as he did. Falling back to her heels, she pulled away just enough to see his face. She stroked his chin briefly before dropping her hand to his chest. "Let us help... the team... You're not in this alone."

"I know". His gaze lingered even as he released her from his hold. "Joe was... is like a father to me. I want to believe him."

Lori's hands went to her back pockets. Finding none in her sleep pants, she rested her hands on her hips. "What does your gut tell you?"

"It tells me to trust him, but… why won't he tell me what or who Shelburn is? WoFat tortured me to find that out". His voice was strong and steady, but his eyes conveyed the depth at which that torture and, no doubt, Jenna Kaye's death still plagued him.

"You wouldn't have told him, even if Joe had given you that information."

"No, I wouldn't have, but it would have been my choice."

She proceeded with caution. "Is that what this is about... you needing to know?"

"Are you profiling me?" Anger flashed in the hard lines of his face.

"No," she said matter-of-factly, "I stopped trying to profile you a long time ago. It was getting me nowhere."

That earned her a pale reflection of his usual cocky grin. "I need to know what my father was involved in."

"Why?" she asked in an even, deliberate tone.

He frowned, unsure how to answer the question. Seeking the truth, needing to know, isn't that basic to most people? "I don't understand the question."

"I asked you why you need to know."

"Because he was my father; because people have died, continue to die and my father was involved. Joe was involved or, at the very least, he knew what was happening. He's been to Tokyo twice in the last two months. He says he's protecting me... that he's trying to stop the killing. He says he's doing it because my father asked him to." Steve's anger and frustration were evident in the staccato of his voice. Lori remained quiet, watching as that anger heated to a boil. "My whole life changed when my mother died. My father sent me and my sister away. He said it was necessary, but he didn't say why..." He was breathing hard now, fighting for control. "I heard him die. It's like I was right there. I could see it in my head, everything that was happening, but I couldn't do anything. I couldn't stop Hess from killing my father."

Lori winced silently at the unmistakable despair in his voice and on his face. The hand that had been punctuating each word as it tore from his diaphragm fell quiet at his side. His eyes, focused on hers, begged her to understand. Her heart broke for him as tears welled in his eyes. "It was my fault," he breathed on a whisper. "Don't you see? It was my fault. I have to fix this." Each word was deliberate and final. "Whatever my father did, I have to fix it."

His eyes begged for someone to make things right. She suddenly felt very inadequate, exposed in her tank top and pajama pants. A fleeting moment passed. Lori found it difficult to breath. Her heart was racing, aching for this exquisite man. Her feet moved without her permission as if she were being pulled to him by an invisible thread. Steve remained statuesque, eyes softening as she approached. Toe to toe, she cupped his face. She watched the storm brewing in his eyes, fascinated as the greens and blues first swirled and then melded into each other, creating the most brilliant aquamarine shades. Her breath caught as his mouth softened and parted. She hesitated, hovering millimeters from his lips. When his eyes closed and his hands found their way to her hips, she answered the invitation with a gentle kiss. The heat engulfed her, stealing her oxygen, shaking her to her core. She pulled away as the pressure from his fingers increased, and the threat of losing herself in this man's touch neared reality. Steve's eyes flew open at her sudden withdrawal. He zeroed in on her dilated pupils, lingered there, then flicked his gaze to her lips. Lori stood paralyzed, cheeks flushed, hands inches from his face. She sizzled ten times over where each of his fingers rested at her hips. Steve slowly drew in a long, steadying breath. Lifting his gaze to meet hers, he teetered on the edge of desire. He wanted this woman. He wanted to know this woman in every way that a man could. Sensing this was too important to rush, he made the conscious decision to step back. It would have worked too if she hadn't trembled in his arms. It was his undoing. She gasped when his arms encircled her, trapping her against his chest. She lost all conscious thought as his lips urged her into a frenzy matched only by his own. The kiss was immediately insistent, full of need and want. He smelled like the ocean and tasted like the wild. She knew she should stop this. No one could tame a man like him, but wouldn't it be fun trying. The promise of that endeavor made her giggle. Steve pulled up short, not accustomed to hearing a woman giggle in the throws of passion, most especially this woman who did not giggle as a rule. She pinched her lips together trying to contain her smile. Steve scowled, confused. "Did you just giggle?"

"I don't giggle."

Steve cocked his head, trying to understand the joke.

"I just... I". Her cheeks chameleoned from a warm pink to a deep scarlet. She chewed her bottom lip. Her voice was soft, a touch husky when she spoke. "When you were kissing me, I realized that... that," she motioned to him with an open palm and then settled her fingers on her own lips. "That is what it should feel like. I guess it made me a little giddy." She looked past him and crossed her arms over her chest, guarded, thinking the joke was most likely on her.

Steve considered her words, studied her posture. He quickly realized that she was embarrassed. "Of course she' embarrassed," he thought. Lori, as a rule, kept her emotions in check and her feelings deeply buried. He of all people should understand that. Her armor had cracked and she had laughed at the release. "And what did I do?" he chided himself. "I called her on it." Softening, he placed a finger against her cheek redirecting her gaze back to his. She trembled again under the weight of his stare. He slid his finger the length of her jaw and tucked her hair behind her ear. "You felt that too, huh?"

The sweetest smile spread across her face as she tentatively rested her hand on his chest, just over his racing heart. "This could be dangerous, you know."

He skimmed her arm lazily with a gentle finger. "We'll take it slow."

"You're ok with that?"

He smiled affectionately and nodded, indicating his resolve. "Yeah, I'm ok with that."

She returned his smile and studied his face as he closed the small distance between them. "I could get used to that face," was her last thought as she melted into his kiss. It was a slow, lingering promise and it left her wanting more. He nipped her bottom lip, teasing her senses. Feigning control, he loosened his hold. "This won't be easy," he challenged.

"The best things in life never are."

They stood, momentarily, studying each other. She mentally traced the lines of his face, noticing for the first time the small scar over his left eye. She admired the point and flare of his nose, the dimple in his chin. He held firm under her scrutiny, eyelids heavy, muscles tense. Needing to change gears before she lost the power to do so, she bounced to her toes and planted a quick, playful kiss on his lips. "Sit. I'll get us something to drink. I want you to tell me what happened tonight."

He watched her disappear into the kitchen. Taking a seat on the couch, he tried to find a comfortable position, needing to adjust after their interlude. He settled on a spot in the corner of the couch and pulled a throw pillow from behind him strategically placing it in his lap. Lori returned with two bottles of beer and plopped down across from him on the couch.

"Now, you said Noshimuri took Joe."

Steve's silent response spoke volumes.

"You got him back". It was a statement of fact rather than a question.

Steve's face confirmed that fact.

"Is he ok?" Lori asked, clinically, careful to keep all emotion from her voice.

"They roughed him up pretty good, but he'll be fine."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know".

Lori eyed him suspiciously. "What are you not telling me?"

Steve licked his lips, buying a little time. "I'm afraid I may have started a war with the Yakuza."

Lori lifted an eyebrow. "They're powerful."

"Uhuh," he nodded.

"You'll have to be careful... watch your back". Concern clouded her face.

"It's not my back I'm worried about."

"From what I've gathered, Adam Noshimuri doesn't seem vindictive. He's powerful, but he's not WoFat. He just wants to know what happened to his father."

"He doesn't control the Yakuza, not like his father did." He paused, noting the worry she tried to hide. "Joe said he helped Hiro fake his own death."

Lori was stunned, much like Steve had been at Joe's confession. "What?... Why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine".

"Joe wouldn't tell you?"

Steve shook his head. "He won't tell me anything."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." He rubbed his eyes hard with the palms of his hand.

"Steve," she spoke his name cautiously, quietly grabbing his attention. He dropped his hands to his lap. "Earlier, you said that you felt responsible for your father's death." She spoke slowly, soothingly as if she were speaking to the mortally wounded. He sat very still, eyes wide.

"I've read the report… It's a part of your file," she explained. "You were a million miles away, doing your job. There's no way you or anyone else could have stopped Hess. He knew he was gonna' kill your father from the moment he took him." Steve looked up and away from her, but not before she caught the tremble in his lower lip. "Steve, your father wasn't perfect and neither are you, none of us are. We don't know what he was involved in, but I'm sure, if he's anything like you, he did the best he could".

He lowered his chin to his chest on a muffled sob. Lori scooted closer, taking his hands into her own. "I know you need answers… I'll do everything I can to help you find them, but you have to let go of the guilt. It's the only way you're gonna' see things clearly… Steve," her voice begged him to listen. Her touch lifted his chin. "I love that you're willing to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but too much weight and you'll break". Her thumb caught a silent tear as it escaped from the corner of his eye. He swiped at his other eye, calmer now under her touch. He managed a small smile and sniffed. Sensing he needed a minute to himself, Lori squeezed his hand and stood. "There's Kleenex in the bathroom there". She indicated a closed door down the hall. "I'm gonna take care of these," she said. Gathering the warm beer bottles, she turned and headed for the kitchen. She tossed the bottles and wiped the counter allowing herself a moment to steady. Returning to the living room, she found Steve standing by the back window, hands in his pockets.

"Nice view." He tipped his chin to the ocean.

"I like it. I don't have my own personal beach like some people I know, but it's nice."

"My beach is your beach anytime you want it."

"I'll hold you to that."

He opened his arms, beckoning her to him. She crossed the room and settled into his hold. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "Do you always sleep on the couch?"

"What?"

He nodded to the red and blue quilt on the floor by the end table.

"Oh, yeah. I guess I do, most nights."

"Something wrong with your bed?"

She rested her ear against his chest. She liked the way his voice rumbled through her from this position. "I like the couch... It's cozy."

"It's a big couch," he noted

"Big enough." Her heart gathered speed as she considered what he might be up to.

Steve stepped back and took her hands, leading her to said couch. She watched as he neatly removed the back cushions and stacked them on the floor. She laughed as he made a production out of studying his handiwork. "Looks big enough for two, don't you think?"

There was no ignoring the flutter she felt low in her gut. "I think so."

He retrieved the quilt and spread it out across the couch. He fluffed the bed pillow still hanging out on the corner of the couch. It smelled like cotton and fresh air. It smelled like Lori. He sat on the edge of the couch and pulled off his boots and socks. Lori watched, wondering if he had forgotten his promise to take things slow. "Would you mind if I camped out on your couch tonight?"

She surveyed his face, not missing the coy little grin that tugged at the corner of his lip. Unconsciously licking her lips, she met his expression in kind. "But that's where I sleep."

"I know."

In one flawless motion, he had her flipped and tucked in next to him on the couch. He pulled her close, her back to his chest, and molded himself to her. He reached for the blanket and pulled it up past her shoulders. Draping his arm over her chest, he nestled his hand between hers. She pulled it to her lips and gently kissed his folded fingers. He whispered goodnight into her hair. She waited for him to fall asleep marveling at the tension his muscles held, even in slumber. Replaying the evening's events in her head, she drifted to sleep on the promise that she would in deed help him find his answers.

A/N: Well there you have it. Too many liberties? Since the writers refuse to help me out, your reviews have become my muse. Thanks again for reading!