I hope no one forgot about you-know-who! It took me longer than I expected to get back to her, but she's finally going to make her grand debut in this very chapter. I hope you like her as much as I do!

Keats heard a persistent knocking at the door, arousing her from a deep sleep. She assumed it was Ryan, wanting her to meet him at the door wearing nothing but his bed sheet.

She complied, stumbling to the door half-asleep. She opened it drowsily and plastered on her face what she hoped was a sensual smile.

"Great Scott, Jelly, what has Miami done to you?"

Keats stared in shock as her best friend, Patty Barrington, stood in the doorway.

"Peanut Butter!" She squealed with glee. She hugged her, beckoning for her to come inside.

"Nice setup. Do you have any idea how many people I had to go through to find this address?" She said, dropping her bags in the living room.

"How many?" She asked, parking herself on the sofa beside Patty.

"Let's just say I shook so many hands that half my skin cells disappeared…You weren't at your apartment, so I went to the hotel that your grandma was staying at. She had already left, can you imagine? So I went to three different gas stations to find the address to the M.D.P.D.

And then when I got there I met all of your team members, who told me you'd been shot. Which, by the way, is not a nice thing to say to a girl who can't find her best friend anywhere…and after pulling several shiny teeth…your CSI Delko is quite the stud…anyway, I finally managed to get this address from a man who claimed to be your husband.

Now if there are any more surprises, Jelly, I'd like to hear them now before I get too encumbered. Can I get a coke?" Patty leaned back, taking off her cap and fanning herself with it. Keats ran to the refrigerator and got Patty a can of cola.

She handed the coke to Patty, excusing herself to go change clothes.

"He seems nice. A little older than your age group, but hey, love is love, right? Plus, he seems way better than Morgan." She called to Keats from the living room. Keats returned and nodded, sitting beside Patty with girlish excitement.

"I can't believe it. My little Keats is actually training to be a cop. I remember it like it was yesterday…we were both playing with safety scissors and Jeffrey Pisgah took seven inches off your hair…

…you pitched a fit, wailing loud enough to wake the dead…" She murmured dreamily.

"Yeah, and then you cut yours off too so I wouldn't be the only one with an asymmetrical haircut. Those were the days, right?" Keats finished, a hint of sentimentality in her voice.

"And we looked totally bitchin', might I add." She said, taking a healthy swig of coke.

Patty's hair was even shorter than Keats, coming to rest on her jawline in shiny coal-black layers. Patty was extremely tall, and thin as a yard stick, as Keats pointed out many times. The sight of the two of them together was quite…interesting, to say the least.

Also, their personalities were as different as night and day, making people wonder what they had in common. While Patty was the typical loudmouth bitch, Keats was the quieter and sweeter bookworm archetype.

"We sure did… So you went to the office? People saw you?" Keats asked incredulously. Patty nodded with a grin.

"I would rather have met them through you, but you left me no choice. I still can't get over the fact that you're married…I mean, wow. I assume you haven't told your family." She said, leaning on her elbow.

"How do you know?" Keats asked. It was true, of course, but not exactly common knowledge.

"If any of them knew, don't you think they'd be down here giving you the third degree?" She sipped her coke. Keats nodded.

"I haven't even thought about telling them. I wouldn't know how." She began, twirling her hair nervously.

"Relax, Jelly. You can just say that you didn't want to steal Garcia's thunder. They'll think you're so damn sweet, they'll forget how you lied to 'em." She smiled, chucking Keats on the chin. Well, it was more of a punch.

"I guess so." Keats replied. She wasn't in the habit of lying to loved ones.

"Hey, tell me about Eric Delko. He is so fine." She squealed. Keats took a deep breath and tried to think. Patty was someone that went after what she wanted, regardless of the consequences.

"He is so taken. He's going out with my friend, Natalia, right now." Keats said. Patty gave a disappointed sigh.

"Are you sure?" She tried again. Keats raised an eyebrow.

"The last thing I need is to get back on bad terms with Boa Vista."

"Duly noted." Patty replied with a smirk.

Ryan unlocked the door to his apartment, walking into the living room with mild apprehension. His once immaculate living room was now covered in pizza boxes, magazines, soda cans, and tissues. A few DVD boxes lay scattered across the floor.

He closed his eyes, pretending that it was just a bad dream. He retreated to his bedroom, extremely grateful that it was just as he'd left it.

He dialed Delko's number, waiting impatiently for him to answer.

"Wolfe, what's up?" He heard Eric say. Ryan rubbed his eyes.

"I'm…kind of freaking out, right now. My place is a mess." He said.

"Heh. So Keats is an untidy housekeeper, I take it. That's the sort of thing you find out on the fourth or fifth date, man."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed. He noticed Keats standing in the doorway and quickly ended his conversation with Eric.

"I'm sorry about the living room. I'll clean it as soon as Patty wakes up." She said.

"Uh, no problem…you do know I'm a compulsive cleaner, right?" He muttered, picturing the pile of clutter mounting higher and higher.

"I got a pretty good idea from the labels on your shampoos." Keats said sarcastically. He asked me to move in with him, but what he really meant was: 'stay over when I'm in the mood.'

"It's nothing personal, Keats." He stood in front of her, playing defense.

"I'm not offended. I just realized that maybe you're not ready for me to move in with you." She replied. Ryan glared at her.

"What part of OCD do you not understand?" He asked, his voice rising.

"I guess none whatsoever. Which is why I'm getting out of here." She mumbled, grabbing her overnight bag and a few other things.

"Where are you going?" He asked, holding onto her arm.

"My disorderly friend and I are going back to my apartment. At least there we won't be persecuted by the Cleanliness Nazi." She said, wrenching out of his grip.

"Did you just call me a Nazi?" He asked in disbelief. Keats left the bedroom, waking up her friend and high-tailing it out of there before she could answer him.