Yes.
Just one word. So common. But more powerful than anything she had said before.
She had spent countless hours working suspects in the box. She had convinced co-workers, won arguments with boyfriends, yelled at her sister, but never had her words had such immediate impact.
Granted, he had asked the question that she didn't even consciously realize she wanted to answer, but here, on the phone with Scotty on an uncontrolled whim, in the middle of the night, that one word, that "yes," had caused him to blurt out that he'd be right over, and she heard the click of the line disconnecting as she clung to the phone. One word, and everything had changed.
Scotty was coming over.
Here.
Now.
Oh, God.
The adrenaline pulsed through her system, throwing her out of bed when not a minute before she had struggled to keep her eyes open.
Finding herself standing, she froze, her brain once again processing more than her body could handle, not knowing what to command next. She took stock of the situation. She was dressed, in not terrible pajamas—at least they sort of matched and were more like sweat clothes—who the fuck evaluates pajamas? Iffy hair. No makeup. No bra. On the last thought, her body reanimated, responding instantly as she rushed over to the dresser to grab one, taking the opportunity to glance in the mirror, and instinctively grasping for the mascara in her makeup bag. But once again, she froze.
She couldn't primp for Scotty. That would be ridiculous in so many ways. It was the middle of the night. He was coming right over. He was her partner. The bra was comfort. Armor, really. But makeup? That was something more. Something she didn't want to think about right now.
Deciding that she was as ready as she could—should—be, all that was left was the wait.
As the minutes passed, it took all of her energy to focus, dodging the ridiculous questions her mind was throwing at her. Should she wait for the ring or stand by the door? Make coffee? Turn on the TV? Maybe she should put her hair up at least? She left her room and closed the door, hoping that somehow it could limit her. She paced back and forth undecided, eventually standing in the hallway, not willing to wait by the front window, unlike Olivia and Tripod, who had already taken up residence there, somehow knowing they needed to be on watch.
Less than 10 minutes. And then what?
She had said yes.
He didn't know what sort of insanity possessed him to ask, but she had said yes.
Imagine her sayin' yes to the real deal…
The usual firewalls stopped that particular thought from going any further, but it was as if he had fallen through the floor to a room with hidden treasures locked in gilded cases. So little had actually happened, but there were so many possibilities. All because he had hope.
He managed to hold onto reality just long enough to end the call with more than dropping his phone on the floor and running out the door. He had even managed words, a sentence, probably, but he didn't know how, and he didn't remember specifics. All he knew was he had to get to Lilly's. As quickly as possible. But not so quick she'd think that he was somehow waiting for her call, or that he thought she was desperate, or that he thought she was in trouble, right? And he should probably put clothes on. Brush his teeth? Shave? Scotty winced. Suddenly everything, every thought made him uncomfortable. This was weird enough as it was. And all he wanted to do was to see her, to be near her. He decided no prep. He couldn't wait. He wouldn't wait. The only thing he fought was his desire to run. So he bustled around his apartment throwing things on, walking, speed walking, until he paused at the door. This was really happening. He was going to Lilly's in the middle of the night. Invited. Welcome.
Pure adrenaline had pushed him out the door and into his car, and once the ignition started, there was no going back. Things were changing tonight. For better or for worse.
But for the first time his gut was telling him to not rule out the former.
Somehow he had managed the drive—it probably helped that no one else was on the road and that despite being there very little, he had the route to Lil's house memorized, just like her number. She was in his contacts, of course, but that's the sort of thing you had to know about your partner. About your family.
He was letting his heart get ahead of himself, but no matter how many times he tried to consciously check the feeling, it wouldn't go away. Eventually, he gave in. The warmth that came from even thinking about holding her again was the only thing that gave him some sort of relief from the constant tension in the bottom of his stomach.
He ran up the steps and knocked on the door, and that's when the mysterious force that had been propelling him disappeared. He was on his own on Lilly's front steps. And he had no idea what he was doing. He would have been significantly calmer entering an abandoned warehouse in pursuit of a killer with his gun drawn. At least they trained you for that at the Academy.
He didn't have much time to process the thought when a few seconds later Lilly opened the door.
She was a sight. No make up, ruffled hair, loose pajamas, Lilly's weariness was all too clear, but even in the dim light of her place, she was luminous, like the bright moon above. She was beautiful. Still, as always. More so, even, because this was a Lilly Rush so few got to see.
They stared at each other for a few moments, silently contemplating the threshold that was about to be crossed, literally and symbolically. Finally, Lilly wordlessly stepped aside and allowed Scotty in.
As she shut the door, and he moved away, she took a moment to really see him. He had shown up in sweatpants and a coat over his pajamas, untied sneakers on his feet, his normally smooth face covered in a light shadow, though it didn't do much to hide the warmth in his cheeks, whether it was from the cold or exertion, or something much more significant.
They continued to look at each other, standing at an awkward distance, not knowing what should come next.
"I couldn't sleep." It just came out. She didn't know what else to say. Was it an excuse? An explanation?
"Me neither. " Scotty was almost relieved at the admission. This was just the truth, and it was easy. And they shared it, even though they would have never admitted it to each other in the past.
Lilly was somewhat surprised at his admission. Even after experiencing Scotty's restlessness first hand, it was hard for her to believe that something like this past week could keep him up. Had he been nervous about talking? At least they could get it over with now, now that they were standing in her living room. Awkwardly. Lilly realized that she was going to have to take the lead, to be a host, and there was no backing out now.
"Should we…talk? I could make some coffee."
Scotty didn't know what it was. Maybe because the lights were so low, or the emotion racing through his body, or the quiet tone in which she asked the question, or how she looked, kind, tired, sad, exquisite, but he felt the fear slide away as easily as if he had washed them away with whiskey. There was only one thing he wanted in this very minute, and he was going to put all of his effort into getting it.
"If it's okay with you, I'd like to keep our breakfast date."
Date? Why was it that one word stood out? And if he wanted to talk tomorrow, what did that mean for right now?
"Okay, sure," Lilly answered hesitantly.
"It's just…" He looked around, struggling for the wording. "I just think we should get some sleep first, you know?" He hurried to continue, lest she think he wanted to leave. "So, uh, I don't know about you, but I remember the last time I slept well. An' I think I can help you, too." He faltered, disappointed in how little he was managing to say, but then he looked up and caught her eyes. For the first time in a while, he held her gaze. "Do you trust me?"
If only he knew how loaded that question was. Still, too much of a mess to even think of anything else, she just answered truthfully. "With my life."
His eyes glimmered. Silently, he took her hand, still so surprisingly warm, and led her through her own house to the daybed, where he sat her down and gently tucked her in, still silent, his face pleading with her to just let this moment be, only to realize she was already willing. She trusted him. He then climbed into bed beside her, his body curving around hers, his arm wrapping around her torso exactly the way it had when he reached out for her in his sleep, though he paused before completing his grasp, allowing her a tiny window of escape if she wanted it.
She didn't.
It was beyond bizarre, for her, for cops, for partners, for whatever reason you wanted to pick, their cuddling. But somehow, for the first time in a week, her mind went silent. Her feelings took over. Warmth. Security. Love. And she could no longer keep her eyes open.