Natalie's dreams - the ones at night or her daydreams usually limited themselves by purposeful effort. She'd trained herself - well, her conscious mind, reasonably well over the years. She couldn't have Mitch back. So she somehow woke herself up when she had one of those dreams, almost right from when he died. She couldn't stand the grief that came from waking and losing him again. Having him torn from her arms again. When she dreamed of Adrian, as she often did in their years together, but especially in the years since he'd faked his own death without telling her, she tried not to dream of him in those contexts either. Of romance, of love, of kissing him, of holding him… of making love with him. Her conscious mind wouldn't allow it at all, but occasionally her exhaustion allowed her subconscious to play its little games.

This dream, on this night, woke her in a sweat with her sheets tangled around her legs and her breath coming in pants. She thought, well, that was a pretty damn graphic dream for a person who hadn't even seen the other person's belly button! Natalie was finding it difficult to calm herself down as she just lay there taking short, quick breaths, so she thought she'd make a cup of chamomile tea. She went to the kitchen as quietly as she could and put the electric kettle on to boil. She purposely bought this kettle because it was silent, and they could use it if someone else was sleeping. Her sleep was often restless, and she'd get up to make tea or cocoa to soothe herself back down to get some rest. But now she had to be mindful of another person in the house again. Although, honestly, Julie had slept like the dead. But this housemate would be easily disturbed and likely annoyed by her restless nocturnal behavior. It was his fault, really. It was he who called her at night for weather reports or other insignificant problems at the beginning and then sometimes just to chat. Those calls had thrown off her sleep schedule years ago, and she never really got back on track.

This dream, however, was not his fault per se; it was hers. Natalie sometimes accidentally allowed her fantasies to go too far in her waking hours, and they spilled over into her nocturnal world. What am I going to do with all of these feelings? She fretted silently, refusing to pace or fidget for fear of waking the object of said feelings. They were not even a month into this arrangement, and she was having difficulty keeping herself and her feelings for and about Adrian under control. She looked at the kettle and saw the temperature had reached the boiling point. She poured it into her mug and watched the tea steep. She added one packet of sweetener and went to sit in the family room with one of Adrian's magazines. She didn't dare turn on the television but curled up on the corner of the couch and placed the magazine on the arm. In the dim light from the lamp on the end table, she sipped as she read about geology. She figured that would put her to sleep quickly. She was correct.

Adrian found her there, hours later, fast asleep, her cropped pajama bottoms riding teasingly high on her thighs and the top precariously low on her breasts. The urge to look at her and the urge to look away tore at him simultaneously. Instead of giving into the devil on his shoulder, forbiddenly drinking in the sight of her, the angel on his other shoulder helped him take a soft blanket off the back of the couch and cover her. He dared to gently sweep her hair off of her face with his pinky. He reached for her empty mug and snapped off the lamp. He returned to his room to prepare for the day, determined to let her sleep a little longer rather than start breakfast.

To distract himself, he turned on his new television for the first time since they moved in and navigated to an early morning news program. He basically ignored the commentators as he thought about Natalie sleeping on the couch. He wondered what had woken her and drawn her out of her room in the middle of the night. He hadn't woken, which surprised him. Usually, the slightest noise woke him. In years past, she'd complained of sleeplessness when she had a lot on her mind, so maybe all the activity plus work was just making her restless. He hoped that was all. He hoped it wasn't nightmares of some kind.

After his shower, he dressed, concern for Natalie still gnawed at his mind, and still, he kept an eye on the local news. He tied his shoelaces and pushed the power-off button on the remote. When he opened the door to his bedroom, the competing scents of bacon and coffee hit him immediately.

"Good morning," she greeted as he entered the kitchen, cheerful as always. How was she always so cheerful?

"Good morning," he replied. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, it was time for me to get up. Thank you for the blanket." Adrian blushed at the thought of how he'd found her and how he had looked at her before covering her.

"You're welcome. Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"Sometimes I do, you know that. When there's so much going on, sometimes my mind can't settle." She lied and hoped he would buy it. She wasn't about to tell him she'd had an x-rated dream… about him!

Adrian thought about her advice when he had been sleepless years ago. "Well, I don't want you going for any late-night walks alone," Adrian said in a manner that brooked no argument. "If you feel the need to walk, wake me up, and I will go with you. I don't care how nice this neighborhood is; I want you to be safe."

Natalie raised her eyebrows at this very possessive pronouncement, but rather than bristle at him, she said, "You're sweet. Thank you for caring about my safety." She slid two eggs out of her new chef's fry pan and onto a new square white plate. She brought the eggs, toast, and bacon on their separate plates to Adrian as he sat with a cup of tea.

"This is just what I wanted today, Natalie. Are you becoming clairvoyant?" He smiled at the perfection of his breakfast. She always got it right. How wonderful to be so perfectly understood.

"No, but we haven't had bacon and eggs in a while, and I wanted it too, so I guess we're on the same wavelength!" She brought her half-finished coffee and her single plate to the table.

He thought the fact that she started eating while cooking should annoy him but found the half-drunk coffee and nibbled toast so endearing.

"So, we have two private clients today. One at ten, one at two. If there's time, we can swing by the station to check on the serial killer case." She was running down their schedule for him while he mused about their very cozy breakfast.

"Okay, that sounds good." He munched a piece of his crisp bacon and contemplated how wonderfully this situation was working out for them. They could talk, work, eat, cook, clean, and simply live… all at once, but do it all together.

Although Trudy had seen some awful things as a reporter and intellectually understood many others during their life together, even aspects of his job as a cop that had been brutal, it was Natalie who truly shared every aspect of his life. Understood his anguish over certain cases and never asked him to stop working on a case to eat or do something else. She understood his need to solve and complete in a way even Trudy had not. It was rare to meet a person, even a friend, who you could deal with, sometimes argue with, and wholly trust. He knew he'd gotten incredibly lucky when he'd met Natalie. Yet somehow, their incredible friendship and partnership seemed a little incomplete to him now that he had woken up and recognized his emotional and physical need for her. He would have to gain some courage in the next eleven and a half months to complete the picture that had formed in his mind. If only she would agree.