Author's Note: I would like to apologize in advance for any errors, the delay, and this not-so-exciting chapter. I'm getting impatient, so I know you all probably are as well, and my only offer of consolation is that we know, barring the excessive consumption of alcohol, Lilly and Scotty would need years to stop being blockheads. Don't worry, it won't take that long!
When the detectives got back in to work, Lilly and Scotty were acting a lot more like zombies than the previous night out would give them an excuse for, but no one said anything. Honestly, the two of them might have been the only ones to notice.
Not only did they have a better read on each other than anyone else, the team had been immediately sucked in to a terrible case. Any leftover celebration was gone. They had a serial killer to catch.
Potential teasing fell to the wayside as the team threw itself into finding him before he found his next victim. Soon, everyone looked just as ragged as Lilly and Scotty.
Lilly in particular took advantage of the need to work, though she hated herself for the relief she got from it. She would much rather suffer a few sleepless nights from her own terror than let a psycho torture innocent boys.
Both detectives struggled with their troubles in the weeks and months that followed, but the cases provided some much needed distraction. In fact, things were kind of getting back to normal. Sort of. Really, what needed to be dealt with had been pushed so far under the surface that no one acknowledged it.
Watching Lilly, Scotty sometimes felt that she was finally getting better, getting some sleep. But really, he knew she was just getting better at hiding it. Sometimes, the deep dark would get the opportunity to bubble up to the surface, mostly in little things like the way she'd stay at headquarters late into the night, or how she would close out the world for a few seconds, head in her hands.
In those same moments, Scotty rehashed that night he sat up in his bed, trying to work it through again and again, hopefully coming to a different conclusion. He had been tired; that was it. "Love" wasn't the right word. He cared about her. He was worried. But he certainly wasn't going to start talking to her about it. About anything. Despite telling himself that nothing had changed, he was having a hard time being normal around her. Like when you start to think about your breathing and then you can't forget.
Lilly took the opposite route. She hadn't let herself think about that night. At least, she had tried not to. She still had the mandatory psych eval sessions to go to. It was almost funny that this stranger thought that she could get the mysterious Lilly Rush to open up. As if somehow, this random doctor swore she had the key to a lock that no one knew existed.
Lilly didn't talk to anyone. Especially not to some department-appointed shrink. But this wasn't about "sharing;" it was about proving to everyone that she was capable, resilient; that this psycho, just one of the many she had encountered, hadn't succeeded in taking a part of her, hadn't succeeded in harming her beyond the crushing blow of his bullet.
These hours—it was bad enough they took her away from where she was needed, but it was worse that they trapped her with her own thoughts. Trying to convince this doctor that she was well meant that she had to convince herself. And she was failing miserably.
Once, just once, Lilly had admitted her dreams and the real fear behind them, hoping somewhere deep down that what people said would be true, that letting it all out would fix everything. But she felt no such release. Just pain, weakness, embarrassment. And she lashed out in response. She did feel bad about hurting the doctor; it wasn't like she was the cause of any of Lilly's problems. But honestly, if she couldn't deal with her own daughter, how could she deal with Lilly?
At work, every once in a while, during a lull in a case, she would catch Scotty looking at her. Not so much catch, as feel. She wouldn't turn to him, but would just sit there, aware of his focus. His stare enveloped her, but it wasn't oppressive or threatening, just positively warm. In those moments, she sometimes thought about talking to him, at the very least properly thanking him for her life, for being there. She reasoned that it wasn't just this feeling—they were partners, and she had probably told him more than anyone else.
But it would just be too weird. How would she even start that conversation? They never just talked. When they did, it was always spurred by something else-a case, an event,...Christina. They cared about each other, but as partners. Partners talked about work and things that might affect work, and that's it. And she wasn't about to let this…this thing she was in, affect her work.
Besides, with this busy stretch, they had cut down even more on the amount of time and talk they had together. An active bomber, ignored rapes, and Neo-Nazis didn't exactly facilitate partner bonding.
As time went by, they closed more cases, and Scotty felt himself sneaking more and more looks. He kept thinking back to that early morning all those weeks ago when his addled brain finally put words to what he had been feeling for Lilly Rush. He couldn't deny it any more. Okay, so he really did love her. That didn't mean things had to be any different. They were partners, great ones, and that couldn't change. So instead of denying, he tried to ignore it, or at the very least reclassify it.
He loved her like a sister.
That wouldn't work for more than a few seconds before he'd get freaked out thinking about how beautiful she was.
Like a best friend.
He didn't think you were supposed to want to kiss your best friend.
What the hell was he doing thinking about Lil that way? This was going to be tougher to work out than he thought. And if she found out...
He resolved to just think about work. To just be her partner. Things would be fine.