The autopilot that had been guiding her through the last hour suddenly turned off. She was standing in the middle of her own room, staring at the bed that had lain untouched for months. Her folly in letting Scotty stay was truly sinking in. Was she ready to sleep here? Way more importantly, would she be able to keep her nightmares from him? He would know somehow, and he would run in, and he would see her—really see her—and the truth she had worked so hard to keep hidden. She was entering a state of full-on, completely irrational panic, the kind she experienced only in her dreams. She would not let it overtake her reality. She let her eyelids fall shut and took in a deep breath.

Her heart gradually slowed to a normal rate, and the pain in her chest and her head started to fade away. Scotty wouldn't discover anything more from a few rooms away than he would from across the city. As for the transition back to her own bed, she came to realize it was as good a time as any. With everything that had happened, she had other, more pressing concerns. The reality was, she was too tired to worry.

Using her last bit of energy, she turned off the lights.

He was in Lilly's home. He had hardly spent an hour total at her place before, let alone a whole night. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having been left alone here, for more than a second anyway.

Well, he definitely hadn't scared her away.

Not yet, at least. She was probably still reeling. He was. His emotional confusion was the only thing keeping him from doing a little detective work—that, and his utter exhaustion. He wouldn't tempt fate tonight more than he already had.

He slipped off his shoes, out of his suit, and into bed.

It smelled just like Lilly.

This is gonna be an interesting night. He flicked off the light.

"Lilly? Lilly? Is there anyone we can call? Do you have anyone we can call?"

She woke up silent, sweaty, the same as always.

Almost.

The response was the same, her hand still resting on her chest, but the dream, this panic she had experienced the same way, over and over again, every night for months, this time, it was different. This time she did have someone to tell the doctors about. Scotty. She had desperately wanted to say "Scotty." Her terror was that it wouldn't come out. She couldn't tell them his name. And that sucked all the air from her more than any bullet.

Was she that desperate not to be alone? Not to fall prey to whatever deranged killer would enter her life next? Just because Scotty had said "always" after an all-night drive and couple of drinks, he was now not only her emergency contact but her saving grace?

No. She buried her head in her hands. This was about more than that. More than a killer's mind games, more than the exhaustion. She felt it deeply, even after the haze of the dream world had completely worn off.

This time, she was afraid not of being alone—but of not being with him.

When had this happened? When exactly did she start thinking of him as more than a partner? He was her best friend, but it wasn't like they had worked at it. It just happened. He had her trust, a gift she so rarely bestowed on others. He had managed to keep it even through their rougher patches. Of course he was also boyishly charming and one of the few people that could make her laugh with regularity, and that smile...

Friend was one thing, but Lilly was getting dangerously close to thinking about her partner in a way that the department would not be happy with.

Do I want him? Like that?

She was distracted from this increasingly disturbing line of thought by low moans coming from somewhere in the house. Despite generally being on edge, these just aroused her curiosity, and she almost instantly identifying them as coming from Scotty. He was probably just sleep talking, but the autopilot she had lost earlier was back stronger than ever as she crept out of bed to crack open the door. She wanted to investigate. No, she couldn't. Shouldn't. It would be weird to check on him, wouldn't it? But something within her was pushing her out the door.

Besides, she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

As she padded softly down the hall, the noises turned into distinctive words. "...No...Please..."

Her fingers rested on the doorknob, unsure of what to do next. This had to be crossing some sort of line. Just because he was in her house…

"...Lilly..."

Her heart stopped. Only the moans that followed started it up again. He was still asleep. But now she knew for sure she shouldn't be there. She shouldn't even ask him about it in the morning. She turned away only to be stopped again.

"...Stay..."

She was absolutely still. He was sounding more upset. More agitated.

"...Please...Please..."

She felt oddly compelled, as if she had a real connection to his pain, whatever it was. Inspired by his sleeping commands or perhaps regaining her sleepless courage, Lilly slowly opened the door a crack to see Scotty, tossing in bed, his face distorted in the moonlight.

Seeing that he hadn't woken, she took a step in and whispered softly, "Scotty?"

No response. Just his continuing pleas. "...Please...Lil...No, no, no..."

She felt unusually protective. Maybe he'd be embarrassed to know she was here, but maybe, maybe she could help him.

In a move she hadn't used for years, not since she and Christina were kids, she sat on the edge of the bed next to him, quietly, gently, and took his hand in hers. "I'm right here, Scotty."

Almost immediately, he stopped struggling, and Lilly sighed softly. Then suddenly, she felt her head hit the pillow. Still asleep, Scotty had managed to wrap his arm around her waist and lay her down, hugging her to his chest.

Before she could process what had happened or how to get out of this increasingly bad, wonderful, terrible situation, he was mumbling again.

"Stay," he murmured into her hair, "Lil...love you."

She could not have possibly heard those words. No. Not while she was snuggled up in his arms, in her daybed. This couldn't be...he was still asleep, right? It wasn't real. He was still asleep. He didn't say those words. She was still in his arms though.

This was so not what she had expected to happen.

As her mind raced at warp speed, she became acutely aware that he had started to sleep peacefully, his grasp around her relaxing but still strongly secure. It was so easy to be there, so snug, that she almost could forget how uncomfortable the situation was. Almost. How would she get out? She couldn't slip out. Each time she tried to slowly inch away, he pulled her back. She couldn't wake him, at least not now. If tonight was any indication, he had been having his own troubles with getting a full night's sleep, and she certainly wasn't going to deprive him of that. Not to mention waking him up while she was in his bed would mean a lot of awkward explanation.

She would just have to wait for an opening. Then she could sneak away, go back to her room, get up in the morning, and pretend none of this ever happened. Not her checking on him, not his dreaming pleas, not the handholding, not the "love," and definitely not the spooning. None of it.

But for now, she could at least snuggle up in the warmth of his powerful body to escape the chill that had settled in the room. As she lay there, feeling his breathing, she had an unusual thought. If she could pretend tomorrow, she could pretend now. This wasn't him; this wasn't her. This was just a moment, brought on by sleep deprivation and happenstance, and it didn't have to be hampered by this whole new set of confusing feelings that had arisen in the course of the night. She could just disconnect and be happy to be in a pair of arms that held her like they would always be there for her—even if always was really just tonight.

An odd sense of calm swept over her, only to be followed closely by her ever-present drowsiness, and Lilly couldn't help but close her eyes as Scotty held her close. The anxiety of the situation should have been keeping her awake, but nothing in Lilly's head seemed to work as it should. As she drifted further from consciousness, her focus rested solely on the feeling of being next to Scotty. How even in his sleep, it felt so much like love.

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay and the not-so-great writing! Thank you all for reading as this story continues to develop a will of its own.