The story continues…

Sunday

A soft breeze wafts through the apartment, sweet fresh air full of promise. It drifts through each room of the musty apartment with the determination to make everything seem just a little brighter, just a little more rejuvenated.

Blake stands by the open living-room window, her mid-morning coffee gone cold, forgotten in her hands. She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with the dewy air. She can almost taste the pollen, and she wonders idly how Goren's allergies are going to fair in the coming days. As if to prove her superiority, she tilts her chin up towards the clear blue sky, and takes in as much air as she can, before letting it go in one long, slow sigh of satisfaction.

She loves this time of year. She loves the effect spring has on people, with its magic; every type of new beginning seemingly within reach, no matter what terrible things might have happened in the past year. Blake can't help feeling cheered by it - who knows what could happen between now and winter. Springtime questions everything, sets everything up for the taking, ready to change and transform. Everything outside is so new and green you can barely look at it without wincing in appreciation, and everything inside is whirling and growing in power, brimming with potential, ready to bloom…

Almost everything, that is. She amends herself with a smirk, turning.

She looked at Goren; slumped, crumpled and unconscious, in his armchair. His curly head lolling to one side, his entire body still and quiet except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest with every expelled breath. The book he'd been pretending to read - he'd actually been watching the Mets and Braves baseball game, and if he thought Blake had been unaware of that, he was sadly mistaken - is in danger of slipping from those long graceful fingers.

Blake smiles again and scratching the back of her neck, goes to rescue the book from its dangerous position half-way down Goren's inner thigh. It is a mark of his exhaustion that he doesn't fly awake at this briefest of touches, just frowns and grunts darkly, before his features smooth over in a deeper doze.

Damn you Goren. Shaking her head, she sets the book on the coffee table. One of the few Sundays they had both been off duty for, in months… and Goren has to go and fall asleep in his chair like an old man in a retirement home. And on such a beautiful day, full of possibiblities.

The breeze lifts a curl from Goren's forehead, toys with it for a second, before setting it back down the wrong way. Blake smiles and automatically brushes it back into place, before patting the curls flat and watching in vague delight as they spring back to attention when she removes her hand. Just like Goren, the locks are dead set in their ways. Amused by this, she does it again, and again, and each time the soft, graying strands snap back into curls, no matter how hard she presses. You might want to think about a haircut, Bobby.

"Doesn't help, y'know."

The slurred words rumbling up into her palm surprises Blake almost as much as the sudden tilt of the head, revealing the deep brown eyes now giving her a groggy and irritated glare.

She covers her start with a smirk. "Not if you keep giving up on it."

She kisses her fingertips before slapping them hard against Goren's cheek, flying for the cover of the kitchen, expertly avoiding the cushion she had known would be flung at her head.

"Missed! When was the last time you had to requalify at the shooting range?" She cried.

"Last night" he muttered. Bobby chuckles at his grumbled retort.

"What? I couldn't hear you."

"Never mind."

Blake reappeared carrying two mugs full of fresh coffee. Satisfied that her handiwork in brewing an excellent pot of coffee will appease him and bring him back from the edge of sleepiness and grumpiness, she begs, "Truce."

"You've got diplomatic immunity if that tastes anywhere near as good as it smells."

Bobby rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms and blinks up as Blake hands him the steaming cup. "Salut." His hands curl around the mug, sniffing greedily at the vapors that rise and twist in the sunlight before taking a huge, noisy slurp.

Blake rolls her eyes in fond irritation as he grins up at her as she goes to sit in the armchair nearest the window. The bright sunshine draws his eye out at the world; even New York rooftops shine under a spring sun, and she shifts in her chair, itching to get out and explore. They could do anything, today, could go anywhere and be anyone they wanted. And no one, not any of the detectives down at 1PP, not even Captain Ross himself, would be any the wiser for being left behind and forgotten about, for just a day. Just one day, just the two of them lost in the wide world. Or, at least, Greater New York City.

A familiar grunt makes her glance around; Goren is stretching his legs out, propping his bare feet on the coffee table and picking up his book again, squinting at it through still sleep-heavy eyes and trying in vain to ignore the score of the game, obviously settling in for a while. Something like disappointment, something like irritation climbs up Blake's throat, urging her to speak.

"You'll fall asleep again."

A flick of a page and a pointed glance upwards. "That's my prerogative, Jamison. If I fall asleep, I fall asleep, don't I? S'my day off," Goren says, arching and rounding his back where he sits, wriggling to get the kinks out of it.

"S'mine, too," Blake mutters to herself, knowing Bobby has gone back to concentrating on his book, and looks out the window once more.

"What? I couldn't hear you." Bobby looked up from his book.

"Never mind."

It seems such a shame to waste a glorious day like this, and Blake shifts, feeling uncomfortable with the idea that it bothers her. Rising she walks to the window to gaze down at the people passing on the street below.

The urge to break out and join them, to run, surges up within her and her muscles brace in expectation of the sudden movement. Preoccupied with her thoughts, she doesn't even notice that she has worked out an escape route if she needed to get out of Goren's third-floor apartment in a hurry… Window-ledge, drain pipe,- quicker than the outside stair - trash bins, open road. She wonders idly how long it would take her; she could probably make it within ten-seconds, twenty tops - unless under fire – She knows she always worked better under the gun – so to speak.

She wants to reach out and grab hold of the day by the throat, shake the life out of it and have it as her own. Before every possibility the day had to offer was lost forever. She wants to be out there, chasing the sunshine.

Familiar lips brush across the back of her neck; startled out of her stare, she shivers and turns round. Goren has somehow managed to cross the room without making a sound, and snuck up on her. His arms snake around her as he tosses the book onto the sofa.

"What's up with you, then, eh?"

"Nothing. Just thinking." Blake absently rubs one of the arms wrapped around her waist.

Blake's not quick enough to stop the smile dropping from Bobby's face - the glint of silliness suddenly disappearing from his eyes, which become hard and intent again, searching Blake's face for any sign of upset. An expression of pure emotion flickers across his face, and she can't work out exactly what it is, before it disappears with his next breath. Something warm and wonderful flickers up deep within Blake then, and she smiles and leans back into his embrace.

"Nothing. Actually doesn't matter at all."

Bobby doesn't look convinced, but it doesn't matter because he never does. Blake's smile widens as her eyes narrow. And the warm something or other in the pit of her stomach glows brighter with each passing second as they hold each others' stare.

Eventually, Goren rolls his eyes and shrugs, clearly deciding he has better things to do with his day than this stare down. "Fair enough. Kiss you better, whatever it was."

He leans down and kisses Blake; a quick, tender press of the lips, as warm as the sun streaming in through the window. His fingers brush lightly across her cheek, as light as the breeze, and she leans into the touch without even realizing, completely disarmed, as always.

Goren pulls away and pats her cheek, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He turns, wandering over to the sofa, stealing the cushions from his chair as he goes.

Blake suddenly finds she cannot take his eyes off him, and she's smiling like a dopey half-wit for no reason at all.

Goren stretches himself out flat on the sofa, all knees and elbows. He thumbs open his book once again, resting it on his chest and squinting down his nose at the text, seemingly determined this time to make progress.

Blake doesn't say anything. She goes and pours another round of coffee. And when she comes back into the living room, she settles down on the sofa, pulling Goren's head on to her lap, already half-asleep and mumbling, and gently plays with his curling graying locks. They watch game highlights and doze all afternoon as the day drifts on outside.

More to come...