At first glance, the diner was in darkness. Beaumont hesitated, wondering if Walsh was actually there. If she went in and he wasn't home, it would feel like she was creeping. She was about to turn away and head back to her place, when she spotted the faint glow of light from the back rooms. Well, if she went in, and he wasn't there, she could always leave, there was no harm in that.

Normally, she wouldn't have thought twice about it. But with the way he'd been acting that morning, she wasn't as sure of her welcome as usual. He'd said he would call her, but she hadn't heard from him all day. Even if he was involved in a case, he would have called her. It was almost 11pm now, and he was supposed to have gotten off work at 6pm. So either he was still working and too busy to call, or he just hadn't wanted to talk to her. Well, if that was the case, so be it. But he should at least have the guts to tell her. She unlocked the door and went in, making sure that she locked it properly behind her. "Walsh?" she called.

There was no reply, so she headed for the back room. Halfway there she hesitated, seeing the faint stain on the floor, where she'd fallen after the bullet had hit her. It was the first time she'd been back here since the shooting. She looked at the bloodstain for a few moments then shrugged. It had happened. She'd survived. No need to get hung up about a mark on the floor. She walked over it, and stopped just inside the bedroom. Walsh was asleep on the bed, still fully dressed, and he looked as if it was the first time he'd slept in days. Was it just the lighting in here, or had she really not noticed those dark shadows around his eyes before?

Well, maybe he'd sleep better if he wasn't subconsciously on the alert for signs that she needed him. She was about to turn away, when he stirred and opened his eyes. He tensed when he realized there was someone in the room, and made as if he was starting to reach for something beside the bed, then he recognized her, and relaxed. "Must have dozed off for a moment," he mumbled, rubbing his hand across his face. "I came home to change – maybe we can go out for dinner tonight..."

Beaumont smiled. "Walsh, it's eleven pm. I already ate."

Walsh sat up hurriedly, turning to look at the clock. "Shit!" He looked up at Beaumont. "I guess it was more than a moment. Sorry."

"Look like you needed the sleep more than dinner," she said. She went to sit on the bed beside him. "Just how many nightmares you been having?"

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "A lot," he finally admitted. "I haven't slept much the past week or so."

"Since you've been staying with me?" When he nodded, Beaumont got up again. "You should stay here tonight then." She turned to walk out; even though it was her suggestion she found herself feeling kind of hurt.

"Allison..."

They so rarely used each others' first names that it was enough to stop her. She heard him get up, then his arms went around her from behind.

"I took your advice," he said, his breath warm on the side of her neck.

Distracted by the touch, it was a few moments before she asked, "Which advice?"

"The part about talking to someone."

"Yeah?" She turned to face him. He looked almost embarrassed by the admission, and she smiled. "Hey. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Walsh grinned. "It's a guy thing. You know – if you don't talk about your feelings they're not real. Anyhow, I talked to Brown." He sat down on the bed, pulling Beaumont to sit beside him. His arm slipped around her shoulders, and she leaned against him. It was the first time since she'd gotten out of the hospital that things actually felt normal between them.

"So what did he say?" she asked.

"Well, first of all he tore me a new one, for not clearing the 'interoffice romance' with him." He grinned again. "I think he was more pissed because he hadn't picked up on it himself. Anyway, then he told me that I looked like shit, so I told him I've been sleeping badly." Walsh paused for a moment. He didn't intend to recount the details of the conversation. His boss had shared some personal experiences that he wasn't about to pass on.

"He understands. He said all cops have stuff they feel responsible for, times when people got hurt – and when it's close to home, it can really screw you up." It was a gross oversimplification of the hour long conversation he'd had with Brown but it was the conclusion that was important, not how they'd got there. Walsh smiled. "He told me to get my head out of my ass."

Beaumont's mouth quirked at the corner. "That's it. That's the best advice he could come up with?"

Walsh chuckled. "Nah, I think he was just taking the opportunity to finally say it. He told me that if I can't let go of this, then I've let Lutz win. Last time..." He drew a breath. He hadn't realized that Brown knew about the murder of his girlfriend, though in retrospect it shouldn't have surprised him. "He said that last time I had no control. But this time it's my decision. I can choose not to lose the person I care about – if that's what I want." He held her gaze for a while. "And that is what I want."

Beaumont smiled, feeling the knot of anxiety within her relax. She raised her hand and stroked Walsh's cheek, and he turned his head to kiss her palm.

"He also told me to give you a little more credit for understanding the risks."

"Yeah – that's what I've been telling you all along."

Walsh nodded. "What I said is true, though. This place isn't exactly secure. Customers can just walk right in and pull a gun..."

Beaumont chuckled. "The way you cook, I'm surprised they don't do it more often!"

Walsh laughed, and let himself collapse back on the bed. "So I'll beef up security. Bars on the window, maybe, security camera, a giant guard dog, whatever..." He looked up at the unfinished ceiling above him and his eyes widened. "Maybe a 'Beware of the attack spider' sign.."

Beaumont followed his gaze and gave an exaggerated shudder. "Put one of those in a cage on the counter, it'll scare off any potential attacker."

Walsh reached for her hand, and drew her down to lie beside him. "So – you gonna stay tonight?"

Beaumont looked thoughtful. "I dunno... those spiders look kinda hungry..." But she leaned on one elbow, and kissed him, her hand moving to the buttons of his shirt. She'd expected that the first time she came back here, she'd be more nervous, but it was like he'd said – she knew the risks. They were part of the job. And if they let the risks stop them having a life, well, then the bad guys had won, and she wasn't about to let that happen!

Much later, drifting close to sleep, and listening to the sound of Beaumont breathing slowly and evenly beside him, Walsh came to much the same conclusion. He had his share of guilt over past events, but he wasn't about to let it get in the way of what he had in his life now. He'd deal with his own ghosts; no need for them to haunt Beaumont too. He turned to look at her, and ran a finger down the side of her face, very lightly so as not to wake her.

As he let his eyes drift shut, he had a feeling that he would sleep well tonight.

THE END