3 little words, unexpected advice, next steps

[seberia]

It was a week and a half after they'd arrived back from Ireland. Timothy finished the last of his morning patients and sighed as he realized it was time for his monthly lunch with Cynthia. Arriving right on time at the restaurant, Timothy parked and got out. Cynthia would be late, so he got a table and ordered a good whiskey on the rocks. Arleen was at the courthouse, working on a new case. He stared at his drink, wondering what she was doing just then.

She called it being fashionably late. She always did it. She was directed to his table by the waitstaff. She smiled to him as she sat down primly. "Timothy." She said simply in greeting.

Timothy started as she said his name. "Cynthia. Sorry, I didn't see you come in." He shifted, feeling awkward as he often did when they had to do this. Other people's exes didn't make them have lunch every month. He didn't mind it so much, but it was a bit strange and he would rather be with Arleen. "How are you?"

"Same as always. I'm a bit more interested in you. Who was that Ms. Makem woman you were with in Ireland? How long have you two been together?" She asked, smiling. He had looked happier than she had seen him, well, ever.

Timothy couldn't help a smile from spreading across his face at her name. It was a quiet, gentle smile, and he stared into his drink again. "I met her three and a half weeks ago," he said, and his voice was warm and quiet.

She blinked at him. "You met her three and a half weeks ago and you took her to Ireland? She must be something, I've never seen someone that deep. And so early on..

"She'd never been," he replied, as if that was an explanation. "I thought it would make her happy."

"You really are in deep." She said, smiling gently to him.

He looked up at her. "I've never met anyone like her, Cyn." He put his chin in his hand and smiled as he thought about her. "It's been fast, but it all seemed right at the time."

She watched him for a moment. "You tell her yet?" She asked, not explaining what she was referring to.

Timothy focused on Cynthia again. "Tell her what?"

She shot him an even gaze. "Timothy, I know you. You love her. I could see it from the moment we saw you in Galway."

His eyes widened a bit. "It's been less than a month. We've done a lot, yes, but..." But why else could he think of nothing but her? Why seeing her name on his phone gave him a warm feeling, why he found himself wondering what she was doing, wanting to tell her about things that happened to him during the day? "...I have to go."

She blinked at him again, but laughed at him. "I'll take that as you haven't told her. You owe me a longer lunch next time, Timothy." She said, smiling at him.

She blinked at him again, but laughed at him. "I'll take that as you haven't told her. You owe me a longer lunch next time, Timothy." She said, smiling at him.

"Right, okay." He pulled out his wallet and dropped a bill on the table for his whiskey. "Sorry, Cyn. Call me, we'll set it up again, but I have to go."

"Good luck, Timothy." She said, smiling more as she watched him.

He barely heard her, he was too focused on getting his jacket and heading out the door, his mind already planning the fastest way to the courthouse. He didn't actually run any red lights on the way, but there were a few close calls. He pulled up outside and got out, running up the steps. He felt clearheaded, focused, and surprisingly calm. "Excuse me, could you tell me where I could find Ms. Makem?" he asked a guard.

"Courtroom E, down the hall and, turn right, three doors down on the right. They're in session but they should be out soon enough." he said, pointing which direction he needed to go.

He thanked the guard and walked quickly down the hall. He found Courtroom E easily and sat down opposite, but was too full of energy to sit for long and started pacing, glancing at the door. He needed to see her, the wait was interminable.

She came out about 20 minutes later, speaking to her client, a man in an orange jail jumper, his ankles and wrists shackled. She didn't see Timothy, she was motioning with one hand, her suitcase held by her index finer, a large file tucked in her arm. She was in a skirt suit, black, a light green dress shirt under the jacket. She wore a little more makeup than before to cover up the still there bruise on her jaw.

She turned as the man was being escorted away by three guards and she almost smacked into Timothy. She jolted and held her hand over her heart. "Christ, Tim.." She took a moment to recover. "What are you doing here?" She asked, but she looked extremely excited that he was there. Her face fell a few moments later. "Weren't you supposed to meet Cynthia for lunch? Everything okay?" She asked.

"I love you," he said, taking her arms and meeting her gaze. "I think I've loved you since that first night. I don't want to pretend we should move more slowly, or put things off, I know it's been less than a month, but I don't care." He smoothed her hair back and smiled. "I love you, Arleen Catherine Makem."

She almost dropped her case file but managed to keep her grip on it, staring at him. She couldn't breathe and she laughed a little bit, wrapping her free arm around his neck. "I knew for sure I loved you that day we watched the sunrise in Ireland. But it was before either of us spoke." She said, bringing their faces close. "I was terrified and I didn't think I really did, but now I know I did." She whispered against his lips. "I love you too, Timothy Patrick Murphy" She kissed him, gripping at his hair.

The rest of the world could have vanished for all Timothy noticed. He pulled her close, kissing her back, his fingers twining through her hair, his other hand resting over the tattoo that had given him a clue into her humor, her attitude. His heart was beating fast, and he'd felt clear before. Now, her words still singing in his ears, he felt lightheaded and never wanted to let her go again.

She laughing and blushing, kissing him deeply, not pulling back until she really needed to. She bit his bottom lip as she pulled her head away just enough to breathe. "Love you, Tim.." She said again, her hand playing with his hair.

He was smiling widely, his eyes dancing and warm as he looked at her for a long moment. "I suppose I should let you get back to work, Dr. Makem," he said, laughing a bit. "I would have waited, but I couldn't. I love you."

"I don't have any more appearances today." She whispered to him, trying desperately to ignore a few of her fellow attorneys and the bailiff from the room she had just been in watching her.

"Good," he whispered. "I didn't want to spend any more time apart from you." He slipped both arms around her waist and kissed her nose lightly. "Are you ready to go? Or do you need a few minutes?"

She laughed softly at him, "I need to get my laptop bag. Stay here." She said, touching her index finger to his nose, turning and moving through the small crowd of attorneys. One called her 'Miss Second-Chance Makem' and she ignored him.

She slipped through a door and came back out 3 minutes later with all her documents in her suitcase and her laptop bag over one shoulder, her free hand gripping the strap. "I'd stop calling me that if I were you, Thomas. You going to put up a fight this time or am I going to mop the floor with you again?" She shot back a bit snidely. "Or will you forever be sore about the Tandem case?" she continued, leaving him without a come back. She got to Timothy and set her hand softly on his scar before lifting her hand to his arm and taking it.

Timothy leaned against the wall, ignoring the curious looks shot his way by the attorneys. He raised a brow at the nickname and smirked at her comeback. He pressed her hand to his side as he started toward his car. "Your place or mine?" he asked, laughing at the pickup line.

She snickered at his line. "Mine for at least a bit. I don't have any clothing at your post and I'm not staying in these." She said.

He nodded. "True." Then he paused as they walked into the sunshine. "Your car or mine?" He shook his head, smiling. "I didn't really think this through."

"I have my own spot and my car won't be towed. So yours." She said, gripping his arm a bit and kissing his shoulder "So what made you realize this?" She asked.

"Cynthia," he answered, unlocking his green Jaguar and opening the door for her. After he got in, he continued. "She said she could see it from the moment we ran into her in Galway. I just realized she was right."

She was doubled over, undoing the straps around her ankles on her heels and slipping her feet out of them, smiling to herself at his admission. "No wonder people thought we were husband and wife if we were so obvious.."

He shook his head. "I don't know why I didn't realize it before. It is obvious. That is why I asked you to come with me." He started toward her house. "I was already in love with you, even at the games."

She laughed softly to herself, setting her hand on his thigh, trying to figure out when exactly she fell for him. She just noticed she loved him up on that hill, but that wasn't the moment.

He smiled down at her hand, pressing it lightly with his own for a moment. They drove in silence, a comfortable silence, back to her house and he parked. He'd been trying to think of the moment he'd first started falling for her, unaware that she was doing the same. He was fairly certain he had it.

"'Will it come up again tomorrow?'." She said with the air of 'Eureka!'. She didn't explain, she figured he would know.

He opened her door for her and gave her an odd look as she quoted him. "Most likely, I think it comes up every day," he replied, laughing. "Why do you mention that?"

"That was when." She said, her shoes held over her index finger, kissing the tip of his nose as she headed for the house, setting her suitcase on the porch and digging her keys out of her laptop bag, opening the door and saying hello to Trouble, who rubbed up on her calf and went outside to meet Timothy, rubbing on his calf and following him into the house.

Timothy kicked off his loafers, crouching down to let Trouble rub against his fingers. Trouble was the kind of cat that preferred to just use you to pet himself, he could see. "That was when what?" he called after her, distracted by petting him.

"I fell." She said, setting her things down, stripping her jacket off, walking into the bedroom.

He felt the heat rise to his cheeks at her casual words. He scritched Trouble behind the ears before getting up and following her into the bedroom. "That's interesting," he said, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching her with a slight smile. "I fell the night before."

"When?" She asked softly, glancing over her shoulder as she slipped out of her button down shirt. Her arm was still bruised but she didn't seem bothered by it any more. She pulled on a t-shirt, slipping out of her skirt and hose, digging around and finding herself jeans, pulling them on.

"When we were watching Star Wars and I looked down at you, and you were asleep. You looked so beautiful." He smiled at her, resting his head against the wall. "You are so beautiful."

She blushed, bowing her head a little to let her hair hide the pink in her cheeks that no longer at the sunburn to hide behind. She put things in their respective places and tried to keep her heart from racing, from soaring.

He laughed. "You can't hide that blush from me," he said, pushing off the wall and brushing her hair back, kissing her pink cheeks. "I know you too well," he whispered softly, one hand sliding down her back to press her against him.

She shot him a light glare, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him close. "Yeah yeah." she said, blushing more and pushing her face into his collarbone and neck.

_________

It was a Saturday, and the sun was coming up over the horizon. Timothy poured two mugs of coffee, just they way they both liked them. This was fairly easy, as they both preferred their coffee black and strong. He carried the mugs to the bedroom, stepping over Trouble who was rubbing against his legs and begging for attention. "All right, come along, I'm sure you'll get petted at some point," he said to the cat, laughing as he set Arleen's mug on the bedside table. "Morning, love. The sun's coming up again today."

"Again? I believe it may be over worked." She said with a smile, getting a little thrill at being called 'love'. She had the sheet wrapped around her despite sleeping nude, as if it was something the doctor hadn't seen yet. She gingerly took her mug, sipping at it and smiling. "Want to watch it finish or is it still ass cold out there?" she asked. Anything under 60 degrees to her was 'ass cold'.

He laughed and shook his head. "It's warming up. I'm sure if we wrap you up well, you'll be fine." He always teased her about her intolerance for the cold. "You'll have to wrap up a bit more than that in any case."

"Well, if you don't like me naked..." She said, setting the mug down and shifting to stand, smirking at him. "I can just stop doing that around you."

He raised a brow, lifting his mug out of the way as he ran a finger down between her breasts. "I don't remember saying that at all."

She smirked at him, though relaxed back into the bed, She studied him, a small smile on her face.

Timothy took a casual sip of his coffee. "You've presented me with a dilemma, Dr. Makem."

"And what might that be, Dr. Murphy?" She asked, smiling more and tilting her head a bit.

"Well." He set his mug down on the bedside table and went down on one knee, crossing his arms and tilting his head in imitation of her. "There's this sunrise outside, which promises to be fairly good. But on the other hand..." He ran his eyes over her body, his gaze growing dark. "There's another matter which I feel is equally urgent."

She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment as he looked her over. She was on her side, her knuckles on her temple, her elbow pressed into the mattress. Her other arm was fingers to elbow on the bed, though her fingers were curling around the muscle of the upper arm of the arm propping her head up.

Her dark green sheets covered her from the waist up, her hips looking well curved due to the angle, her hair falling around her elbow and pooling on the mattress a bit, her eyes heavy lidded as she watched him. Her bruises were almost completely gone, the faintest hint of light yellow still in the skin.

He leaned forward and ran his hand very lightly over the curve of her waist to rest on his hip. "It'll be back tomorrow," he said, his voice a bit rough, before leaning forward and kissing her deeply, fingers grasping the edge of the sheet and pulling it off her.

She laughed softly into the kiss, her arms going around his neck. "You sure?" she asked against his lips, pulling herself closer to the edge and against him, using his neck to do so, leaning into the kiss again after speaking.

He pulled her to him for a moment, then moved them both back to the bed, rolling over her onto his back and pulling her on top of him. "Pretty sure," he replied thoughtfully. "We'll have to wait and see."

She smiled happily down at him, letting him move her around. She settled on his chest and kissed the tip of his nose, relaxing.

He ran his hands down her back, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin, before leaning up and kissing her again, a bit more urgently this time.

She laughed at his urgency, but gripped at his hair with one hand, her thighs pressing into his hips.

He smiled into the kiss, moving beneath her to try and slide off his pajama pants, wishing he'd thought of this before he'd rolled her over.

"Ah, the reason I don't bother with those" She whispers against his lips, raising up and spreading her legs a bit so he can manage, one hand sliding down to his waist band to aid him, the other remaining in his hair.

He got them off, finally, kicking them to the floor. "I didn't bother with them last night, if you remember," he said, smirking. "I pulled them on to get us some coffee. I didn't expect you to look so delicious when I got back." He kissed her neck, running his nails lightly along her sides.

She gasped and shuddered, lowering herself back into her previous position. "I'll have to get you a robe." She whispers once she is able to form words. Since her hand is already down at his waist, she raises her hips up just a teeny bit in order to tease him, ghosting the tips of her fingers over him, smirking to herself.

He groaned and twitched his hips as he felt her fingers, tipping his head back a bit. "Ye're a cruel wumman, Dr. Makem," he whispered, smirking a bit and waiting for the blush.

"Don't do that.." She whispered, blushing and biting her lip. "You can't use your accent, that's not fair." She said a bit better, getting over the way her breath left her at first after a few moments.

He smiled widely at her and kissed her blushing cheeks, then her lips, running his fingers through her hair. "You're irresistible," he whispered. "I have to use anything I have to keep up with you."

"Your accent is just.. evil. Unfair. Even if I like playing below the belt with you." She said, smirking more, her fingers pushing down a bit more on him, she's gripping him a little now.

He groaned half at her fingers on him and half at the pun. "Maybe you should start working on one yourself. Maybe we need to go back to Ireland. Immerse you in accents."

"You just laugh at me when I try. My 'Jah-zuss, Mary an' Joseph' had you snickering." She forces herself to not bow her head at her, in her opinion, horrible attempt attempt at an accent. Again, it was quite good, she might even be able to fool some natives, but she always found it bad. She's talking like they're having a conversation at a table in a packed restaurant over their salads. At the same time, she's gripping him harder and pumping him a little faster.

"It's a -" He let out a small groan again as her hand moved faster, shifting beneath her, fingers tightening on her hip. "- A delighted laugh, it's a perfectly good ...god, that feels so good..."

"Sure it is, Dr. Murphy." She said, her chest fluttering at his groan. She leans forward, capturing his lips with hers, so very happy she allowed her co-workers to drag her out to a bar on St. Patricks.

His breathing was getting ragged and he moaned into the kiss, his hand sliding over her hip and gripping it. He broke the kiss to whisper roughly into her ear, "Are you going to keep teasing me like this, or are you going to let me take you?"

She let out a low groan at his voice, unconsciously gripping him and his hair a little tighter. "Mmm, I do so like teasing you..."

"And yet, when I tease you," he said, a lilt entering his voice, though it stayed dark with desire, "You'll be beggin' me to take you..."

"Oh, really? Begging?" She asked, though she lowered her hips, lining him up but not connecting them, ignoring the flush that spread through her cheeks again. She pressed down just a little and paused again, torturing him

He groaned again, his hands shifting to her hips, meeting her eyes. His gaze was dark with need and a hint of desperation. "Oh, aye," he whispered, leaning up to run his tongue along her collarbone, his hips pressing up a bit.

She moaned faintly at him, removing her hand and pushing down a bit to meet his rising hips, shivering at his tongue and his voice, his words, his gaze. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss after whispering, "I love you.."

Taking in a sharp breath, he pressed into her fully, pulling down on her hips, before sliding a hand into her hair and meeting her eyes again. "I love you," he whispered back again, kissing her and flicking his tongue against her lips as he started to move beneath her.

She smiled happily, pulling him into a kiss, gripping at him, moaning against his lips, moving with him.

Her teasing fingers had brought him close before and he was already starting to get close again. He forced himself to slow down, to let the feelings die down so he could build her up with kisses to her jaw, his tongue running over her ear, down her throat.

One of her hands is bracing them against the headboard, gripping the wood, her head tipped back to give him access. She shivers at everything he is doing, her fingers tightening in his hair. Her back is arched against him and she's just barely holding onto the headboard, completely trusting him to keep a good hold of her. She has ever since he told her to

His hands moved to her waist as he felt her begin to lose her balance above him, and gripped lightly, supporting her. He set up a rhythm, moving slowly at first but increasing the speed of his thrusts as he felt her starting to shake. Leaning up a bit, he kissed her throat and scraped his teeth lightly across her skin.

In her own home, she doesn't try to muffle herself. She leans her head back, thrusting down onto him, taking only a few moments to copy his rhythm and match him. She moans sharper at his increased speed, bucking down on him a little more, a little harder. She does hold herself closer to him and cry against his shoulder as she spasms, gripping his hair tightly, her nails in the wood of the headboard.

Trouble had jumped up on the bed at one point, glaring at Tim and trying to assess if Arleen was really being hurt or not. He had attacked Tim once, clawed the hell out of his arm, but he had seemed to learn for the most part. Arleen is still clenching around him, her lower back and hips still spasming a little.

Arleen's cry against his skin was what finally pushed Tim over the edge and his hips bucked up into her as he moaned her name loudly, his hands tightening on her waist, pulling her close. He relaxed and dropped back to the bed, lips parted as he breathed deeply.

Her eyes went a little wide as they fell back onto the bed, but she laughed. She ground her hips into his a bit to tease him, laughing into his shoulder. Trouble seemed to think that was his cue and he sauntered up, stepping onto Arleens back after using Tims hip as a step up. She grunted at the 15 lbs suddenly on top of her. Trouble walked over and sat down on her shoulder, looking down at Tim.

Tim ran a hand down her back, then started laughing as Trouble's prim face appeared over Arleen's shoulder. "Someone wants attention," he said, stroking Trouble's face lightly with a finger.

"Ugh he's heavy." She groaned at him, turning her head and setting it on his collarbone, looking at Trouble through the corner of her eye.

He laughed again at that. "You're crushing your mother," he said sternly to the cat, though he didn't try to push him off. He knew how sharp those claws were. "I'm afraid we may be stuck here for awhile, he seems pretty happy."

As Tim stopped speaking Trouble laid down, his paws curling around Arleens shoulder, watching Tim and her with a curious glance. Arleen was glad it was Saturday. "So... whenever we are free, shall we make breakfast? What do you want today?"

He shook his head as Trouble settled in. "I was considering making pancakes. What were your thoughts?" He kissed her nose before putting his arm under his head and relaxing.

"Mmm, pancakes are always good." She said with a smile. "Totally putting bananas and strawberries on mine." She relaxed as well, figuring she might as well, her one hand playing with his hair, her eyes closing in contentment. Trouble reached out and batted at Tims left on glasses, his tail whipping back and forth.

"I need those," he said to the cat, batting lightly at his paw. He and Trouble had become very good friends since the attack. "Oh, do we have some? That sounds very good. I didn't look in the fridge yet this morning. I wanted coffee first." He glared at the mug on the bedside table, much too far away to reach at the moment.

"Cold by now." She said, making a face, reaching up with her free hand to rub Troubles head. Trouble gave her hand battle ears at the odd position of her hand, which was obscuring his vision completely, and he got up, jumping off her. "Oh, well fine." She shouted after him before snickering "works every time..."

Timothy laughed again at Trouble's affronted look. "That's good to know," he said, squeezing her waist tightly for a moment before releasing her. "And there's plenty more where that came from, although we did miss the sunrise. For which I blame you."

"Totally not my fault. I was all for the sunrise and you said it would come up tomorrow." She said, skimming her nails along his side, kissing his neck and getting up, pushing her hair out of her face. She glanced at her bathroom, considering a shower. She decided 'nah' and plucked his shirt up from the floor from last night and put it on, wandering out into the kitchen, giving into Trouble and promising to feed him. She glanced over her shoulder and shot him a small smile before disappearing into the hallway.

He rolled over and watched her walk out, admiring how she looked in his old medschool t-shirt. Pulling his pajama pants back on, he caught up with her in the kitchen, putting his arms around her waist and kissing the top of her head for a moment before opening the refridgerator. "Let's see, pancakes...do we have - ah," he pulled out the container of milk. "We'll have to get some buttermilk sometime."

"Well, I'll get some next time I go to the store." She promised, pressing against his chest for the time he was there before going back to measuring the dry. She already had the strawberries under the tap while she got everything together. She moved away, everything out as he got the last item, and turned off the water. She started to cut them. "Better yet, why don't we go together so I can stock up on stuff for you."

"All right." He found the carton of eggs before he realized he'd been referring to everything as "we". He set the eggs down carefully and went for a mixing bowl, noticing as he did so that he knew where to find everything he'd need. He hadn't spent a night at his apartment since they'd returned.

She was given a moment to think, she didn't much like that. "You think he'll come back?" She asked. It had only been 2 weeks, and Chris was a persistent man, she knew that all too well. She still hadn't explained a thing about her marriage. She had the strawberries cut into long strips and the bananas were fairly even in size. She cut like she was presenting a dish to judges.

Timothy broke an egg on top of the flour he'd measured into the bowl. "I don't think so," he answered, his voice cold and stern, businesslike. He glanced over at her, wanting to ask what had happened but knowing that when she was ready, she would tell him. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice softening.

"Yes. If you're not here, my attack cat is. Though you're here as much as he is." she smiled, her tone light and conversational. She was doing anything but accusing him of overstaying his welcome.

He laughed. "I am, aren't I. My doorman probably hardly remembers who I am." He added a measure of milk to the bowl and started to heat up a pan, then leaned down to scritch Trouble as he arched against his legs.

"You have a doorman? Christ, Tim, he probably thinks you're dead." She said to him, giving him a stare. "If you're sticking around at least go tell them and stop paying rent or something. You're going to make people worry about you."

"People go on unannounced vacations all the time, he's used to it. There's a book of photos anyway." He glanced up to see her looking at him, then the second half of her statement penetrated. He gave her a long look. "Do you want me to stop paying rent?" he asked quietly.

"Do you want me to want you to stop paying rent?" She asked, a smile forming on her lips.

His pulse had sped up and he straightened from his crouch. A few answers spun through his mind, but the simplest was the best. "Yes," he answered quietly, folding his arms and leaning against the counter.

"Well, good cause I totally did, but I didn't want to say that if you didn't want me to say that." she said, speaking at her quick lawyer pace. She was smiling, though, and a faint blush was in her cheeks.

His cheeks were a bit red too. "I hadn't even really thought about it," he admitted. "I've been here so much, I've almost forgotten I have an apartment."

"So, sell it? Move in?" She ventured, looking back at the fruit that was already cut and in neat little rows, her cheeks flushing more and more.

Tim crossed the kitchen and put his arms around her waist again, kissing her on the cheek. "I'd love to," he whispered in her ear, pressing her back against him. His heart was pounding and he was sure she could feel it and he didn't care.

She offered a nervous laugh, worried he would have said 'no' though she wasn't sure why. She rested her head on his shoulder, her left hand instantly going to his scar.

He leaned back a bit, looking at her fingers on his scar. It was amazing to him how quickly that had become a comforting gesture. He kissed her shoulder lightly, pulling her against him again before releasing her as his stomach growled quietly. "I guess I'm still hungry," he said, laughing.

"You'd better be, if I spent that much time cutting these fruit for nothing I would have killed you. Or at least sent Trouble after you." She said, smiling at him, not taking her hand off his side until he moved out of reach.

"I don't know who to be more scared of," he said as he shot Trouble a look. He tested the pan and put some butter in it, letting it melt and pouring out the excess before dropping the batter in with neat, practiced movements.

"Me. No contest." She said, smirking at him, wandering over. "Make me one that looks like a bunny." She begged, pointing to the pan.

He laughed, adding two lines of batter to the hot pan. "As milady commands," he teased her, finding a spatula. "How about some coffee I get a chance to drink this time?"

"Well.. not my fault you did that." She said, snickering at him. She dumped out the remains of the last pot and reset it up, resting against the counter and watching him cook.

He shot her a look, brows raised. "I beg to differ," he retorted. "It wasn't me lying naked in the sheets."

"Didn't take long for it to be, and my offer to stop at any time does still stand, Dr. Murphy." She says, smiling to him.

"Oh, is that so, Dr. Makem? I doubt you'd be so cool if I had stopped." He deftly flipped the pancake. One of the ears tilted down when it landed and baked there immediately, giving it more of a Playboy bunny look and he snorted with laughter.

She said nothing, just smiled at him, setting a mug down next to him after filling it with coffee. She rested her hips against the counter next to him, watching the coffee

He picked up the mug and took a long swallow. He didn't need coffee to wake up in the mornings, but he preferred it. "Thank you, love," he said absently, reaching for a plate to slide the completed bunny-cake out of the pan.

She smiles at the term of endearment, and waits until he is done making his own pancakes. She heated up a little syrup, but only used a teeny amount, believing the fruit and whipped cream to be enough. She settled at the counter, in one of the bar stools. Once he was settled down she starts to speak, "Before you really decide you want to move in.. I need to talk to you about why Chris is violent." It's true, she does blame herself, everything had been fine until she had done that.

Timothy took a bite and swallowed, chasing it with a sip of coffee before answering. "All right." He looked over at her with a calm, open expression. He didn't know the details and he wanted to, but he wasn't going to hurry her. This was something she had to tell at her own pace.

She watches him a moment, she licks her lips. She looks up at the ceiling as if it'll help her to remember. "We met in college, he was the librarian there. We had a drunken night and it happened a few more times, we decided to try the dating after 4. He proposed and I wanted to wait until after I passed the bar. I passed it, first try, and we got married. It wasn't that far in, bout a year."

She's been watching objects in the room, currently it's her coffee, which she is holding with both hands. "I had just gotten this great case. Huge murder trial and it was my first real test for myself. And I realized only a few days in that I was pregnant. This trial was important. You don't get many chances, and at so early on in my career. I got an abortion, I didn't tell him." She doesn't look pleased with herself, but she doesn't look too upset about it.

"Once the trial was over, I let him know. He was upset, who wouldn't be but he started getting drunk. One night I asked him..." she tries to remember. "I asked if he wanted to watch some movie, I believe. It was something stupid and he hit me. I figured maybe it was a one time think, I tried to leave him alone. I was furthering myself by still going to school, and having won the huge case, I was becoming more well known and people wanted me to represent them. So I was often busy. He got drunker, the hits got harder. I didn't leave.

"My brother finally came up one day and saw my bruises. Kicked the shit out of Chris, forced me to pack right then. I didn't want to leave, not really. I knew if he just worked through his pain he'd be alright. My brother got me to divorce him. It's part of the reason why the other lawyers call me Second Chance Makem. I kept going back. Kept giving him second chances. They knew, everyone knew. I wasn't skilled with hiding the bruises early on." She's fiddling with her fork and her hands are shaking a bit. "If I had just been straight and narrow with him, this never would have happened."

Timothy sat and listened, not saying a word, just watching her. When she mentioned the first time he'd hit her, his eyes darkened with anger but he still said nothing. When she'd finished, he reached out and took one of her hands. "It's not your fault."

She laughs softly, her hand still shaking a bit in his, biting her lip, her pancake forgotten though half eaten, she always left the ears for last. She glanced over at him, but not at his face, at his arms and chest, her eyes downcast

He took her chin, but very gently, and tipped her eyes up to meet his. "It's not your fault, Arleen," he repeated, meeting her gaze with calm and confident eyes, now filled with pain and worry for her, and love.

She studys his eyes, his face, and she bits her lip a little harder before forcing a nod to please him

He tipped his head to one side. "That won't work. I'll let it go for now, but Arleen...it's not your fault. And I will convince you of that."

She watches him with an unsure stare, but closes her eyes after a few moments, taking his hand and turning her head so her cheek was tucked in his large, warm palm

He stroked her face with her hand. "Why would you think that his abuse was your fault? If it hadn't been this, it would have been something else. Taking out the garbage, feeding the cat, not filling up the car. It could have been anything. It happened to be this. That doesn't make it your fault."

"Everything was fine until I did that. It was a marriage, a child is something I should have discussed with him. What I did was not fair. That's what sparked everything."

"What you did was your decision to make. You may not have handled it as well as you would today, but that gives him no. Excuse. for what he did. None. There is no excuse." He took her other hand firmly, keeping her gaze. "It was his actions, not yours. It's not your fault."

She sighs, it's shuddery. She doesn't cry, not often. Twice, once for him and once for her. But tears are welling in her eyes and her breathing has changed to be deeper, and she wants to pull off, bury her face in her hands. She doesn't, she's telling herself she doesn't cry.

Timothy stood and crossed to her, folding her into his arms and holding her tightly. "It's not your fault," he whispered in her ear. "Never think that. You did not bring it on yourself."

His arms will be the end of her, she decides, and she's crying gently against him, not sobbing, but her breathing is hitched. She whines his name into his skin, as if he'll wave a magic wand and make things better. She is trying to calm herself down but isn't managing in the least.

He stroked her hair gently, pressing a kiss to her hair. "It's all right, Arleen...I'm here. He'll never touch you again."

She laughs weakly, the image of Tim chasing after Chris with a broom held high as a weapon flashing in her mind

He smiled as he saw her laughing, but didn't ask what she was thinking about. He kissed her forehead lightly. "I love you, Arleen. I'll never let anyone hurt you like that again."

"I know.. God, I'm sorry." She whispers, pulling away from him and wiping her cheeks roughly with the palms of her hands.

He brushed her tears away lightly. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said softly. "Thank you for telling me."

"I owed you. Fair and even, remember?" She asked, gesturing between them. "Besides, you gotta know the dirt on me before you move in."

"There's nothing about you that could change how I feel," he said seriously. "And I would never insist on being 'even' with something like that. I wanted you to tell me when you were ready. I'm happy that you have."

She studys him, unsure, but finally nods and agrees. She believes him, amazingly

He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. "I love you," he said when he pulled back again. "I want to wake up next to you every morning and bring you a cup of coffee while we decide whether or not we feel like watching the sun rise today."

She smiled, her arms wrapping tightly around him, laughing softly to herself. She wondered what good she did to get the karma to snag this man, but boy was she happy she had. She just held him for a while, just listening to him live. She was quiet for a long time and then she asked, "Why did you marry Cynthia?" It was a bit off the wall, yes, but she wondered what it was that had sparked him enough to marry someone.

Tim rested his chin on her head. "Cynthia...was everything I was supposed to want: young, gorgeous, fun. Interested in me. She asked me out for coffee, took me out with her friends. We dated for almost a year and were very comfortable together, when she told me she was planning on leaving modeling." He shrugged a bit. "I asked her to marry me. We were happy together and I saw no reason not to." He frowned a bit, thinking back.

Her fingers are tracing the lines of his scar like they normally seem to, particularly if his shirt is off. "How was it? The marriage? Did it just not work or was there that moment where you realize this was a big mistake?"

"It worked fine, for awhile. Cyn was happy to be away from the modeling circuit, it was very stressful on her. I was working in a good job, she spent time mentoring younger models, something she'd always wanted to do. That's how it was, for about three years." He leaned against the counter, arms loosely around her. "After our third anniversary, she started to get antsy and decided to go back into modeling. I was fine with it. Thinking back, I think she wanted me to argue with her, try to convince her not to, but I wanted her to be happy and I worried about her spending all day with nothing much to do.

"She went back to her old agency and started getting really excellent jobs, better than the ones she'd gotten before. Being gone from modeling for three years, I guess she had a fresh look, more natural. Anyway, she started getting international jobs and wanted to move to Paris." His lips quirked in a half-smile as he remembered that conversation. "I told her I didn't think I could live in Paris and she said that was fine, she'd just find a small apartment and live there half the year, during fashion season. When I realized I didn't think I'd mind that, I wouldn't mind having her gone six months at a time, I knew it was done."

"Why can't you live in Paris?" she asked against his skin.

"We'd visited a few times, and I'd never liked it much. It's very...artificial. The life we would have been leading would have been impossible for me to keep up with. I caught part of it before we got married: parties, art openings, shows, going places just to be seen. Every night, we would have been out at some event or other. I knew I couldn't do that. It's not...not who I am." He shrugged again. "She and I talked it over and decided the best thing to do was just to walk away. I don't think either of us were very surprised."

"How did the monthly lunches start up?" She asked. She suddenly became aware of her hand on his scar. "You seemed to scared and nervous about showing me this.. How did she treat it? Something had to have happened that made you so worried about showing people.."

He sighed. "They've been going on ever since I moved out. She insists. She says she wants us to stay friends. I enjoy seeing her sometimes, she's still a great person, but we have very little in common anymore. I try to dodge them, but sometimes that's more hassle than it's worth considering I only see her for an hour or so." He put his hand over hers, glancing down at her. "She thinks this is from a car accident when I was in medical school. So does everyone else." He didn't answer the second half of the question.

She wasn't sure how she felt about her being the only other person to know what had happened. But she pressed this issue. "What happened, Timothy?" She used his full first name only when she meant serious business.

He was silent a moment. "I made up a story about how I got it. Every detail was perfect. Sometimes, when I was telling it in a bar or to a group of friends of friends, it almost seemed like I really had gone halfway off a bridge, that my windshield had been shattered, that I'd almost bled out waiting for the ambulance to find me." His arms tightened a bit around her. "I tried to tell her. I thought, she's my wife, she loves me, she deserves to know what happened. So I tried. But she's never...she hardly knows pain at all. My car accident story was hard enough for her to hear. I got as far as the guerrilla attack before I just stopped talking. She never asked me to continue."

"They never asked why it was an X?" she asked, pulling away just enough to look up at him.

"No. No one ever did. I acted as if it was natural and I suppose they assumed that it was, if I made it seem like it was." He laughed a bit, wryly. "I can be...assertive. When I want to be. And no one ever questioned it."

"Oh, assertive?" She smiled a little. "How assertive?"

He raised a brow as he looked down at her. "People listen to me when I tell them they're going to," he answered seriously. "It's something I developed just after getting back. Part of my bedside manner. People are less scared when their doctor has perfect confidence and takes charge of the situation."

She nodded softly and glanced at the clock. It wasn't even 10 am yet. "Want to go to Disneyland today?" She asked, remembering her promise to bring him there.

He blinked at her in surprise. "I...well, hmm." He looked at the clock as well. "I think I would like that, actually," he continued, smiling down at her and looking a bit excited.

"Lets eat out pancakes cause eating there is hell. There is an IHOP literally right across the street from the exit, but they're always packed. Oh, and they just opened a Bubba Gumps down there." She said, moving away and smiling up at him.

He laughed. "You'll have to be my native guide," he teased her, taking another drink of coffee. "I wouldn't even know where to go, but I bet you know all the best places for everything."

"I do. And I know a lot of the cast members." she smiled happily, going back to her own pancakes.

His brows rose as he poured a bit more syrup over his own. "Really? Do you go that often, or do you know them from other things?"

"I go that often." She said with a smile. "I took a break after my divorce from working as a lawyer and I moved down here. I was still in school but I needed something to occupy myself. I worked in New Orleans square. So I tumbled around between the Haunted Mansion, Pirates, and being a host for the Blue Bayou or working at Pieces of Eight." she smiled a little.

They got dressed as he asked her questions about working at Disneyland. Tim was excited, he'd been to Disney World as a child but didn't remember much. They had a long day, but a fun one, going backstage and joking with cast and crew members, Arleen showing him her favorite parts of the park. They stayed until after dark before driving back to her house, laughing about their day. Both of them had gotten sunburned across their faces and their hands had stayed together almost the entire day.

The next day was Sunday and despite their long Saturday they did succeed in getting up to watch the sunrise, then spent a lazy day on the couch reading and watching TV. As the sun sank, Tim had his arm around Arleen's shoulders and he sighed quietly. "Back to work tomorrow."

She had such a fun day, seeing people she hadn't seen in a while due to Timothy being her focus. They all seemed to like him, she knew they would. Because it was just about half through April, she had gotten him a year long pass. They would be coming often and she knew they would. The Mad Hatter constantly picked on her in a loving joking way. He kept braiding her hair or stealing something of hers and booking it faster than a man with shoes that big should be able to run, only to end up pelting her with whatever he had stolen later. She couldn't remember a more fun time at Disneyland.

She was snuggled against his side, half asleep. She let out a tired, quiet "mmm hmm" noise at him, nodding her head a little. She had some big new case tomorrow and she was looking forward to it. She had some doctor who should be able to clear her clients name, hopefully. She hadn't really gotten the chance to look over the files, but the court appearance wasn't until 2 in the afternoon and she would get up and to the office before 6 to cram and find out everything she could.

He sighed as he pulled her against him more closely. He didn't have his usual patient load tomorrow. One of his patients had been a victim of an attack and he was supposed to testify about the nature of the injuries. He hadn't given it much of a look, the court appearance was at 2 and he'd have plenty of time to look over the information in the morning. It was a fairly straightforward case, bruises inflicted by blunt instrument, hairline fractures, typical of a moderate beating.

She smiled to herself as he pulled her closer, already skimming sleep, her breathing deeper and her body completely relaxed.

He started suddenly, having almost fallen asleep on the couch. If it was still Saturday night, he wouldn't have minded, but they both had long days ahead of them tomorrow. He kissed her temple lightly. "Bedtime, love," he whispered, waking her just enough to walk her to the bedroom and get them both into bed. He kissed her again lightly, resting a hand easily on her hip as he began to drift into sleep.

She grumbled at him, shuffled into the bed, and somehow managed the energy to strip. She slept with her back pressed into his chest, she normally did. She woke up at what she called 'way too early in the morning' which was really about 5:10. She stumbled out to the kitchen, naked, turned on the coffee pot, and shuffled back to the bedroom to shower. She was more awake when she got out of the shower. She was back out in the kitchen at 5:30, still barefoot and hose-less but in her skirt and dress shirt, though the latter wasn't buttoned yet.

She was after coffee. She promised herself she would get doughnuts on the way to work, she wanted to be in the office at 6, it thankfully was not that far away. She quickly fed Trouble, who bounded over Tim to get out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

She was completely dressed and ready by 5:43 save for her lipgloss, but she wanted to give Tim a kiss she didn't have to wipe away. She bent over him, her eyes half closed, warm and dancing, lined in black and the faintest hue of purple to match her pinstriped dress shirt. Her long hair skimmed over his chest as she bent closer and kissed him. She gently set down a mug of coffee on his bedside table, and after an "I love you" she was gone, the front door making the faintest click as she was off for work. Trouble was back, smelling like some form of salmon cat food and he walked over Tims chest, settling down against his neck.

Tim stirred as she left the bed, rolling over into her warm spot, but fell asleep again. He was dimly aware of soft lips on his and a whispered endearment, but by the time he was awake enough to respond she was gone. He sat back, fingers absently stroking Trouble's ears as he settled onto his chest. "I love you," he whispered to the empty room, feeling a bit disappointed he hadn't been able to say it back to her. He would make it up to her tonight, he promised. He reached over his head and picked up the coffee mug, careful not to spill it as he took a sip. He had a few errands to run before he went to his office. There were a few things left at his apartment that he needed to pick up. He'd do that first.