A/N: This chapter includes Emily Dickinson poems. I'm not 100% sure about the copyrighting on these so just to be safe here's a big ol' disclaimer that these words are not my own (obviously). The lines have been pulled from a website so I apologise for any errors.

Discomfort woke him: a slight stiffness in his neck that could most likely be explained by the fact that he had fallen asleep on his stomach, his face burrowed into a pile a pillows that was entirely too high for a comfortable night's sleep. But he had to been too drained, too exhausted to even consider moving. And now - what he assumed was many hours later - he was regretting that decision.

The hot, humid July air that seemed to cling to the exposed skin of his naked body was as heavy and unwelcome as the blanket draped over his lower half. He groaned, cursed himself for forgetting to change the timer on his air conditioner: he wasn't supposed to be home today and - in the name of doing his part for the environment - he had set the timer to shut off at 6am. Despite his home being all shut up and well-insulated, the large windows (that were a blessing in regard to the natural light they let into the loft) seemed to absorb the heat directly from the sun: any lingering chill from his air conditioner would have would have disappeared long ago.

He slowly shifted onto his back and opened his eyes, blinked rapidly as the rays of morning sunshine assaulted him but he managed to adjust relatively quickly. As if on cue, Kate rolled closer; her body moulding to his side. The heat of her body was like fire against his but he couldn't bring himself to care. He reached across his body and smoothed his palm down her thigh before curving his hand around the back of her knee and bringing her leg over his.

"Mm, comfy?" Kate hummed against his neck.

There was something about the low register of her sleepy, oh-so-relaxed tone that he just loved so much.

"Mmhmm," he confirmed as his hand drifted back up her thigh and over her waist. "You?"

She nodded slightly and Rick looked down, noted her still-closed eyes and peacefully expressionless face. He tilted his head, gently pressed a loving peck to the top of her head. The sleepy, half-smile on her face didn't go unnoticed as she nuzzled even further into Rick's embrace. As much as he wanted to move - to stretch, to eat something, to turn on the air - he'd let her sleep.

He would happily stay here - hot and hungry and sore - for an eternity, with not a single complaint, so long as she was in his arms.

He closed his eyes and attempted to will himself into comfort. His hand dropped to her side to rest against the ladder of her ribcage and a sharp but barely audible intake of air escaped from Kate. Rick's eyes shot open as he reactively pulled away from her, shifting the bed covers just enough to see the angry so-blue-it's-almost-black bruising on her torso.

"I'm so sorry!"

His whisper was loud, voice thick with concern. He had hurt her... The only thought in his mind that was clear enough for him to understand. He had hurt her...

But Kate chuckled sheepishly, still fighting to stay asleep: it was clear she had no intentions to leave his bed anytime soon.

"M'fine, Rick," she mumbled.

"Are you sure it isn't broken?" he asked, for the third time since the incident.

This damn rib just seemed to keep causing her grief, not that she would ever admit to that.

"Been checked twice," she reminded him. "Not broken. Just sore."

"Are you sure though?"

Kate opened her eyes just long enough to shoot Rick a half-hearted glare before she grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm back over her body. When he finally relented and allowed himself to relax beside her, she closed her eyes and placed her head down on his chest.

"I probably should have taken things a little... slower last night," she admitted quietly after a few seconds of silence. "But I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her body and held her close. But he didn't go back to sleep; he couldn't. She was too good at hiding her pain and he couldn't help but wonder how many times during the night had he accidentally touched a sensitive spot - God knows she was covered in the at the moment - and missed the tiny, carefully masked signs that she was in pain.

He wasn't ignoring that tiny little voice in the back of his mind that reminded him of Esposito's warning. In fact, he was doing his very best not to coddle her but he had always been the caregiver type, even as a child. He saw someone in need of help and he eagerly provided whatever it was they needed. This - the concern, the hovering, the constant watchful eye - was his version of not coddling. He was terrified that he was on the verge of driving her insane but he felt like he was fighting a losing battle every time he told himself to pull back, to care less. It just wasn't in his nature.

Especially when it came to Kate.

He cared about her in a way that he hadn't cared about anyone in a long time. She was important to him. How important? He wasn't quite sure but he knew that he would do anything for her. Hell, he'd give her the world if she asked for it; lasso the moon and the stars if it brought her joy to have them at her disposal. With the exception of his daughter - and his mother... on a good day - he would happily turn his back to the rest of the world and spend the rest of eternity in this little bubble of them.

And suddenly, it dawned on him: he knew exactly what this was; knew exactly how important she was to him.

He was in love.

Head over heels.

Hopelessly and patheticly smitten.

The realisation - or, perhaps it was more just an overdue admission rather than realisation - had his heart swelling in his chest, a smile creeping onto his face. It had been a long time but it felt good, to be in love. But he knew that woman sleeping soundly in his arms was still healing, that she was probably far from being ready to hear him speak the words that had filled him with such euphoria. So he would keep it to himself - his worst kept secret - until they were both ready.

For close to twenty minutes he traced patterns with his fingertips over her lower back and listened to each slow, steady breath she took until she began to rouse once more.

The soft, warm puffs of breath he felt on his skin were replaced by the gentle press of her lips; a kiss he returned with one of his own to the top of her head.

"You think too loud," she mumbled, then kissed along his shoulder until she reached his neck. "What's on your mind?"

He chose to answer her question with actions rather than words; placed a gentle hand on the side of her face and kissed her with all the fervour of a man in love. And she allowed it; allowed herself to get swept away, if only for a moment.

Kate placed her hand on Rick's chest and pushed gently, breaking away from their kiss just enough to tease him.

"Nuh-uh," she sung playfully. "I asked you a question."

His eyes dropped to her smile and he traced his thumb along the curve of her bottom lip. He loved the way she instinctively chased his touch, subconsciously moved to prolong the connection even when he began to pull away.

"Just you," he answered truthfully: an answered that apparently satisfied her curiosity.

She lurched forward, reclaimed his lips and kissed him with heated passion.

"I ordered breakfast," Rick announced from the kitchen as Kate walked out of the bedroom, towel drying her hair. "Well, brunch at this point, I guess. Lunch by the time it actually gets here," he corrected with a thoughtful frown. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," she said with a bright smile. "I'm starving."

She sat at one of the counter stools and Rick rounded the island counter, mug of fresh coffee in hand. He placed it down in front of her and kissed her temple.

"Should be here soon," he informed her, smoothing his hand up and down her back. "I'm gonna have a quick shower. Make yourself at home: you know where the TV is, help yourself to any books, I'll even let ya snoop through my stuff if you want!"

Kate rolled her eyes and laughed at what she assumed was a joke, and Rick walked away with a smile.

As tempting as it would have been to go snooping - she did, after all, have his permission - she resisted the urges and opted to peruse his book collection instead. She hung the towel she was using to dry her hair over the back of the stool, picked up her mug of coffee and plodded toward his office. She took her time browsing the titles before her: everything from James Patterson and Agatha Christie, to Tolstoy and Chekov, to Jane Austen and Nicholas Sparks. It was obvious that his love and appreciation for words wasn't restricted to merely one or two genres. Poetry, literature, love stories and mysteries alike; he loved it all.

She smiled when she saw Alex Conrad's latest novel had joined the collection. She still felt a swell of pride for how Rick had handled everything that night and how, despite the ever-present threat of being replaced that loomed, he hadn't caved into playing the games many had expected him to. Given the opportunity to discredit Conrad's work, he praised the author instead. He mingled with fans, socialised with his peers and networked with the big names of the biz, all without stepping foot into Conrad's spotlight. That pride - and a certain sense of loyalty too, she supposed - was exactly why her copy of the novel had remained untouched since that night. She would read it eventually but, for now, she had plenty of Rick's novels to keep her busy.

She moved back to the collection of poetry books she had spied in her initial scan of the shelves: Oscar Wilde, Maya Angelou and Edgar Allan Poe, just to name a few. She reached for thick, leather-bound book - The complete works of Emily Dickinson - and took it with her as she walked back to the living room. She made herself comfortable, curled into the corner of the lounge with her feet tucked up underneath her, and began to read.

. . . .

Rick dressed in jeans and a lightweight cotton shirt before rejoining Kate in the living room. He slowed the pace of his stride as she came into view: curled up comfortably, still-steaming mug in her hand, deeply engrossed in a book he instantly recognised. She looked perfectly at home in his space; it was a sight he wanted to burn to memory. He leant against the door frame, allowing himself just a moment or two to watch her as she read peacefully.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?" she asked before looking up at him with a playful smile.

Rick pushed off the door frame, slowly walked toward her. "No. But she did always stress the importance of appreciating the beauty of a moment." He sunk down onto the couch beside her. "And this - you, so captivated by Miss Dickinson's words - is a beautiful moment."

"Smooth-talker," she grumbled.

But the smile on her face was yet to fade away.

"I try." Rick tucked Kate's hair behind her ear. "You a Dickinson fan?" he asked curiously.

"Would you be disappointed if I said I wasn't all that familiar with her work?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Not at all."

"Good." She looked back down at the book balancing on her lap. "I actually was looking for something in particular, but I can't find it in here. I did an analysis piece in high school and I kind of just wanted to read that poem again."

"Do you remember what it was called?" Rick asked, taking the book from her lap.

"Because I could not stop for Death," she told him as she shifted to be able to read over his shoulder.

"Ah; he kindly stopped for me," he recited.

Kate tore her eyes away from the pages before them to look at Rick, to watch him as he continued.

"The carriage held but just ourselves-"

"And immortality," she finished with a smile.

Rick looked - stared - bewildered for just one moment before gathering himself. "You were an overachiever in school, weren't you?"

Kate's jaw dropped in feigned offence at the accusation. "Not at all. In fact, my dad helped me with most of the assignment. The night before it was due," she added for emphasis.

"Right," he said, not buying her defence. "So, you just happened to remember it fifteen or so years later?" He raised his brows, challenging her.

"The first four lines of it, yeah. You seem to be quite the aficionado, though."

"My mother, actually." He began flipping through the pages until he found what he was searching for. "When she was supposed to be teaching me not to stare-" He smiled and gave her a sideward glance. "she was actually teaching me life lessons through poetry."

He passed the book back to Kate and allowed her a moment's silence to read the passage in front of her.

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased

With explanation kind

The Truth must dazzle gradually

Or every man be blind —

"Your mother values honesty," Kate stated more-so to herself than to Rick. Then she smiled. "That bodes well for me."

There was a knock at the door, effectively ending whatever conversation could have arose from this moment. But as Rick rose from the couch and walked toward his front door, he turned to look at Kate over his shoulder and smiled.

"I told you: I don't lie to people I care about."

"And what about the ones you don't care about?"

"That is something you will never have to worry about."

Rick opened the door and greeted whoever was on the other side, took the paper bag from them and then handed them a small wad of cash.

"Thank you," he said before closing the door. He carried the food over to the living room and dropped the bag to the coffee table, pulling the styrofoam containers out one-by-one. "Okay, there's scrambled eggs and avocado toast; a bacon and spinach omelette; pancakes or French toast."

Kate chuckled. "Are you expecting more guests?" she asked as she stared, bug-eyed, at the stack of meals.

Rick sat beside her. "I may have gone a little overboard," he admitted. "But, at least we have options. How about I get plates and we can try a little of everything?"

"I can get them," Kate offered.

She pulled herself from her corner of the couch before Rick had a chance to insist she not lift a finger. While she was enjoying the fact that he seemed to like doing things for her - more than she ever thought she would; being an strong, independent woman and all - she had her limits. There was only so much lazing around and being waited on that she could indulge in before she began to itch for something to do.

She returned to the couch with two plates, cutlery and some paper napkins. Rick had opened each container; their feast was on full display.

"Wow, this looks so good," she thought aloud as she passed Rick a plate.

"It's from a little cafe near Chelsea Park. They have the best pancakes." He stabbed his fork at one of the golden brown pancakes on the table and deposited it on Kate's plate. "Trust me: they're heaven-sent."

"I believe you," she said with a slight giggle. "However, I'm a bit of a pancake snob. My dad has a secret recipe that no one can compete with."

"I would never speak ill of your father or his pancakes," Rick assured her. "But once you try these, his pancakes will taste like cardboard."

Kate's jaw dropped but she was highly amused by Rick's passion. She grabbed her fork, used the side of it to cut off a bite-sized portion of the pancake to taste for curiosity had taken over: what exactly was it about these that he loved so much.

She had to admit: they were good. Light and fluffy, the essence of vanilla just strong enough to be tasted but not so strong it was overpowering. And there was a hint of something else, something she couldn't quite pinpoint.

But pride wasn't taking a back seat today. So, she shrugged. "Eh."

"Eh?" he repeated, mimicking her shrug. "Just 'eh'?"

"They're nice," she admitted. "But they don't even come close to my dads."

Rick nodded. "Nostalgia is a powerful thing," he said, understanding.

"Nostalgia?"

"Yes." Rick cut off his own bite of Kate's pancake and she playfully swatted at his bicep. "Until I've tried your father's pancakes for myself, I just have to assume you're wrong."

Kate rolled her eyes. "If that's your way of trying to score yourself an invite to breakfast with my dad, it's not going to work."

Rick just smiled and shook his head as he served up small portions of food onto his plate, passing each container to Kate when he was done. They settled into silence as they ate, picking at their plates to sample the different foods: sweet and savoury, hot and cold.

"Looks like there'll be plenty of leftovers for breakfast tomorrow," Rick stated as he placed his empty plate on the coffee table beside the half-filled containers. "Maybe the next day, too, if you're not sick of it by then."

Kate placed her plate atop of Rick's then leant back into the cushions of the couch and looked at him with a smile. "Exactly how long do you plan on having me stay here?"

"You make it sound as though I am holding you here against your will," he complained and she placed her hand over his: a silent assurance that she wanted to be there with him. "Alexis will be home on Wednesday; you're welcome to stay until then if you'd like."

Four nights.

That seemed doable.

Four nights alone with Rick.

She'd be lying if she said that didn't have her stomach churning; equal parts excited and terrified. They were only one night down and already feeling very domestic.

"You don't have to, obviously," Rick assured her and she realised her silence must have spoke volumes. "I just wanted you to know that you're welcome here while Alexis is away. Not that you're not welcome while she's home, I just-"

"You try to keep some distance with Alexis and your... friends," she finished his sentence, recalling the conversation they'd had weeks earlier.

He protected his daughter, no matter what; didn't want her to build a relationship with people who weren't going to stick it out. Kate understood. She respected that.

"I have no intention of crossing the boundaries you set in regard to your daughter, Rick. She's a sweet girl and I look forward to getting to know her better one day. But not until you decide it's time."

Rick smiled, suddenly overwhelmed by how well the accidental stumble into deeper conversation had worked out for him. Kate had spoken - in a sense - of a future that included not only him but his daughter, too. The women he had dated in the past had a tendency to see his daughter as one of two things: a burden, something they had to tolerate in order to be with him; or a chance to play doting (read: overbearing) step-mother, something of which Alexis did not need.

Kate, however, had managed to find that middle ground that Rick thought he might actually be comfortable with. She seemed genuine in her desire to get to know his daughter, in her understanding that Alexis was an extension of himself and therefore was (and always will be) a part of dating him. But she also seemed to understand that this was something that had to be done on his timetable, not hers. Not that he thought there would be much delay: the few short interactions they'd had had been pleasant enough and Alexis was already bombarding him with questions about Kate, both cautious and excited for her father's newfound friendship (she wasn't actually buying that for a second). And he knew - without a single doubt - that he was in this for the long run.

As soon as Kate was ready to dive into this thing without reservation, he was sure she would be in it for the long run too. He could feel it in his bones; he'd never felt so certain.

But if he kept thinking this way, he was sure his mouth would eventually run off with his thoughts and he'd say something to scare her off.

"Was there anything you needed to get done over the next few days?" he asked in attempt to distract himself. "Surely, now that you're feeling a little better, you had something planned for your time off work."

"Uh, there was one thing I needed to get done," she said. "But there's no rush, I can do it whenever."

"What is it? Anything I can help with?"

Kate smiled. "Well, seeing as I am moving into my own place soon I figured I should probably buy some furniture."

"Furniture shopping?" Rick pointed to himself. "I love furniture shopping."

"Of course you do," Kate laughed.

"So- what do you need?" Rick pulled out his phone to make a list.

"Everything."

He looked up from his screen, looked at Kate with a blank expression. "What do you mean everything? Don't you have stuff at your old place?"

Kate shook her head slowly. "Everywhere I've ever lived has already been furnished. When Adam and I got our place together he already had most of what we needed. There were a few things we bought together but, honestly, I think I just want a fresh start." She looked down at her hands in her lap and began to toy with each long digit, picking at her fingernails or twisting an imaginary ring. "He got rid of the one thing I actually wanted, so..."

"Wait, what do you mean he got rid of something. Can you get it - whatever it is - back?"

"An artwork." She looked up at Rick and shook her head. "He sold it. Or maybe he destroyed it. Honestly, I don't really know where we landed on that one: I like to think he didn't actually destroy something he knew I loved so much, just out of spite. But, at this point, I don't think I'd be surprised if he did."

"Is that what had you so upset the other day?" Rick asked.

"It's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid at all." His voice was low and gentle; so nurturing but filled with emotion. He was hurting for her, with her. "Was it a custom piece? Can we get another one?"

We.

Kate smiled. "It doesn't matter; what's done is done. I just want to move on."

"Okay then." Rick stood then held his hand out for Kate. "Let's go shopping."

She smiled and placed her palm over his, allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"Let's go shopping."

The day had been a success.

After a little research, Rick had found an overstock warehouse just outside of the city. Furniture, homewares, appliances, garden essentials: you name it, this place had it! They managed to get almost everything that Kate needed - the essentials, anyway - in one stop.

The lady who had assisted them - Sara, her badge said - was an obvious fan of Rick's. She had almost tripped over her own feet in her rush to greet them, and spent half her time staring at him in disbelief. Starstruck, Kate would say. Unashamedly so.

But, that worked in Kate's favour. Sara had been happy to go above and beyond for Rick, to fulfil his every need. Three and a half hours - and a possibly unhealthy dose of flattery from the saleswoamn - later, Kate had picked out a bedroom suite, a dining set with complementary counter stools, a nice (and maybe slightly over-indulgent) 5 seater L-shaped lounge, armchairs, a rug, bookshelves; the list goes on! She was well on her way to having her home perfectly suited to her tastes and she couldn't have been happier about it. And, thanks to Sara's big old crush on Rick, she even got the delivery fee waived.

As the hours passed, however, Rick couldn't help but notice that Kate was slowly beginning to deflate. She was exhausted, not that she would ever admit it. But the walk back to Rick's car was slow. Not a leisurely stroll kind of slow, an I physically can't but I'm too stubborn to stop kind of slow. And the way she wrapped her arm around her torso - as if holding her rib cage in place - was anything but subtle.

Rick wrapped his arm around Kate's back, placed his hand over where hers rested on her ribs.

She looked up at him and forced a smile. "I'm okay."

"I know," he replied before pressing his lips to her temple. "But I'm ready to call it. Let's go home."

Kate leant into his side and he led her toward the passenger-side of his car.

They arrived back at Rick's place after a little over an hour's drive.

Between the activities of their night together, the position she had spent too long curled up in on the couch this morning, the hours of wandering through what had to be the State's largest warehouse and the most uncomfortable car-ride home she was feeling more than a little worse for wear.

"I know you weren't overly happy with the decision," Rick began as they entered his home. "But I think the forced medical leave may have been called for."

She turned to face him, daggers shooting from narrowed eyes. But they seemed to have little effect on Rick.

"How are you feeling, Kate?" he asked sarcastically. But he didn't let her answer. "Don't you dare say you're fine; you can barely stand up straight right now."

Kate straightened her posture; she hadn't even realised she had been so slouched in her stance. "I'm perfectly capable of sitting at a desk," she argued.

"To be fair, you'd probably feel just as stiff and sore from the lack of movement being stuck behind a desk," Rick thought aloud. "You can't really win this one."

Kate sighed heavily. "I know."

Rick looked sympathetic: he didn't know what to say, how to help. All he could do was show that he cared.

"Are you still on pain medication?"

Kate shook her head. "Trying not to be," she admitted. "But I'll probably take some tonight so I get a decent sleep."

Rick nodded slowly, mulling over his thoughts.

"Wait here," he said eventually. He pointed to the Dickinson book, still on the coffee table from earlier in the day. "Find your poem," he instructed before turning to walk away.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

He disappeared behind the wall of his bedroom, but Kate heard him call out: "It's a surprise."

She smiled to herself, gently lowered herself back into the corner of the couch that she had claimed as her own and picked up the book.

A/N: So much more to come! This 'sleepover' was meant to be one chapter... maybe two. But it has taken on a life of it's own so we might be here for a while.