DISCLAIMER: not mine, please don't sue.

a/n

aprilf00l: thanks! More is coming. :)

Unzueta5885: ;) Thank you!

Guest: thank you! And yes, it was Natalie's dream. ;)

Guest#2: thanks so much. It was my first time writing smut, so I needed a safe "pocket" within the story for a test run, hence the not too original but very handy wet dream scenario. When we get to the real deal, it will be more "personalized", I promise. :)

Grappling Fancies: wow, thanks so much. :) It was an experimental chapter and I'm very happy the style worked for you.

Nkhen: you have no idea how much fun it was to read your reactions as you worked your way through the story. It was so, so great. And thank you! :D

KellyD: hehe, thanks! I wholeheartedly agree: this needs to happen for real. I mean, on-screen real. ;)

stitchangel88: I will do my best to keep the chapters coming. Thank you! :)

Libbi Derington: thanks heaps! And there's more. ;)

- DICEY -

Natalie's eyes slowly open and the red numbers of the alarm clock blink into view. It's almost 7 a.m., which doesn't fully register with her yet. She stares at the clock, trying to separate what actually happened last night from what didn't, but everything is a swirling, drowsy mess. It was all just a dream, she concludes. Two, actually:

One that pierced and terrified.

One that pleasured and soothed.

Her eyes drift shut, then snap wide open when she hears the bed sheet rustle faintly.

Slowly and cautiously, she turns to take a look.

Eli's lying with his back to her, curled into the cover at the opposite side of the bed, still fast asleep.

And fully clothed.

Her initial panic gradually subsides as she watches him sleep at a respectful distance - a few more inches and he'd end up on the floor. Again. Now she remembers. She remembers it vividly. The bloody nose incident. The metronome. And his expression when she asked him if he would sleep with her - as in sleep sleep with her but she didn't rush to clarify it. His ensuing struggle to form actual words and put them into a coherent sentence was way too amusing to watch. Then she felt a bit guilty for torturing him like that, so she ended up apologizing. He just shook his head with a small, flustered grin. And she clarified her request.

He didn't find it weird or crazy.

He didn't mind at all.

And he didn't push for more.

Okay, he said.

He stayed, and she fell asleep to the rhythm of his breathing.

She moves closer and runs a hand along his forearm. "Eli." He stirs but doesn't wake up. "Eli," she whispers into his ear, then, after some hesitation, she plants a lingering kiss on his cheek.

His eyes blink open, then he inhales deeply. His disoriented, sleep-filled gaze soon finds her awake one. She yawns and his mouth stretches into a sweet, lazy smile - one she can't help returning. "Good morning," she says. It is good, indeed. He rolls to his back, then slowly props himself up on his elbows and kisses her lightly on the lips. "Sleep well?" he asks and she grins. His warm, solid presence right next to her starts to mix with the lingering residue of her dream - the way he smelled, tasted and felt. Her hand - no longer cold - slips under his t-shirt. His fingers drift up into her hair and he pulls her closer. His stubbled jaw - like sandpaper - brushes against her neck, tickling, eliciting a giggle.

"You need to shave."

There's a glint in his eyes - playful and dangerous.

"Don't," she warns him but the word is wrapped in a widening smile.

It's too late anyway.

She lets out a shriek of laughter. He pulls her on top of him and buries his face in the curve of her neck, nuzzling and kissing it. His stubble tickles her mercilessly. She keeps laughing, pleading, trying to lean back and away. It doesn't work, so she decides to switch from defense to offense and pushes him down on his back.

Her laughter quiets down as they gaze at each other.

The moment, however, is shattered by a vibrating cell phone. They glance at the nightstand in unison. Eli narrows his eyes at the offending device. "Is that yours or mine?" he asks.

Natalie reluctantly climbs off him. "Mine," she says, reaching for the phone, then answers it. "Hello?" It's followed by silence. It seems to stretch forever. Eyebrows furrowed, Eli sits up. Still listening to whomever is on the other end, Natalie briefly glances back at him. She seems tense. "Yes. … No, of course. Yes. … Okay. I'll be there. Thank you. … All right. Bye." She hangs up but doesn't look at him. She fiddles with the phone, thinking.

Now he's tensing up too. "Is… everything okay?"

"Yes, um… it was Lieutenant Mills," she says, turning back to him. "They are putting together a lineup and he asked me to come down to the station."

Surprised and vaguely worried, Eli raises eyebrows at that. "They caught the guy already?"

"Well, they caught someone. Now they want to see if I recognize his voice."

He regards her. "Can't they use fingerprints or... or DNA?"

"They didn't find his prints here and the samples take days to analyze," Natalie says. "If I identify him, they can hold him until there's solid evidence."

Once again, Eli finds he can't argue with her. "When?" he asks.

"Today."

"Today when?"

A small smile plays at the corner of her lips. "At 9."

He nods, lips thinned and jaw clenched. He can't go. His meeting's at 8. Then he feels a sudden rush of panic at the thought. "What time is it?"

Natalie glances at the clock. "7:10."

He's gonna be late again. "Dammit," he says, trying to scramble to his feet but he's all twisted up in the bed sheet. The more he struggles, the more tangled up he gets. Natalie just watches him for a while with restrained amusement. He yanks at the sheets, pulling free, then slowly turns to look at her. He's all wild hair and conflicting urges.

He runs a hand through the gray locks.

She knows what's bothering him.

"Natalie, I—"

"No. It's okay. Really. I'll be fine," she says but he doesn't move. "Go," she orders him out with a genuine smile, gesturing towards the door.

He hesitates, then nods and walks out. He really should be rushing but when he's out of her sight, he slows to a stop again and looks back at her bedroom door.

"Keep moving, Eli," she yells from inside, making him grin.

Dressed and ready, she emerges from the bathroom and finds him leaning against the back of the couch. He has his overcoat draped over his forearm and about 30 minutes left.

"You are gonna be late," she remarks, adjusting the strap of her wrist watch.

She is probably right but he doesn't move. He watches - admires - her wordlessly. He looks like a hawk, tensely perched on the edge of a decision already made. His claws are carefully tucked away when she's around but their sharp glint reflects in his eyes.

It softens by her touch and he smiles into her kiss. Her lips leave his but the smile remains.

She gets a bit flustered. "What is it?"

Three words lurch up and rush to the tip of his tongue. He inhales and keeps them in.

He hears a clock tick faintly. His hand reaches up and he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

Then his eyes fix themselves on the cut on her forehead.

People like her... the world breaks them faster. One decent, compassionate bone at a time.

And people like him often assist.

And often out of fear.

Break or be broken.

But she isn't breaking. She is smiling. She keeps remolding herself from betrayals and bruises into something better and wiser - something outside his binary approach to life.

She's a brave owner of mistakes.

A proud wearer of scars.

A graceful outlier.

A builder.

Her soft amusement is creased with concern. "Are you okay?" she asks, her palm resting on his thigh. He has that look on his face again. A peculiar, sad joy.

"Yeah," comes the whisper against her lips and he kisses her. It's a pledge sealed in lipstick. I won't let you down again. And her thumb gently wipes its traces from his lower lip. It's the sort of stain he'd wear proudly, but he can't. For now, it must stay hidden. He doesn't want questions. He doesn't want them anywhere near her. They would only taint and chase and judge and twist.

Three words clink against the back of his teeth again - so foolish and persistent - but he swallows them down with a mute gulp. "Are we still up for lunch?" he asks instead.

Her lips curl and her eyes light up. "Of course."

A taxi is waiting for him, slightly crammed between a white delivery truck and a blue sedan with a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from its rear-view mirror.

Eli climbs in and buckles up.

The cabbie is given the address and some encouragement to drive as fast as possible.

The yellow-black taxi glides through the cold morning rush but they get stuck at a traffic light only two blocks from the hotel. Eli checks his watch. 10 minutes left. He sighs. His teeth abuse his lower lip and his fingers drum on his thigh in a restless rhythm.

A car honks somewhere behind and the loud noise draws his attention.

Just an adventurous pedestrian.

Eli's eyes narrow.

There's also a blue sedan there with red dices swinging behind its windshield.

Eli slowly turns back. This could very well be nothing. He's getting nervous, nonetheless. The light switches and the traffic flows forward again. He chews on the inside of his cheek, thinking. He can already see the Fairmont. He checks his watch. 6 minutes left. He briefly glances back. The sedan is still there.

After some hesitation, he leans forward. "Could you pull over?"

The driver looks at him in the mirror. "If you feel carsick, there are paper bags under the seat."

"Just pull over here," Eli says and the cabbie obeys. "I'll be right back." He climbs out and walks up to a newsstand. He grabs a magazine and, as he pretends to skim through it, he sees the blue sedan pass by. He squints, trying to make out the license plate number but his view is blocked by a red sea of tail lights. Then, after a few more yards, the sedan pulls over too. Eli pays for the magazine, then quickly hops back in the taxi. "Let's go."

The taxi rejoins the busy flow of morning traffic. Eli pulls his phone from his pocket. They pass the sedan parked by the side of the road. He catches sight of part of the plate number and punches it into his cell. The cabbie glances at him in the rear-view mirror. He can tell his passenger is edgy, which, in turn, makes him concerned. "Is everything okay?"

Eli peers up. "Is there a blue sedan behind us?" he asks after some hesitation. He doesn't want to risk taking another look. "With those fuzzy dices?"

The cabbie checks the mirrors. Soon he spots the car in question. "Yes."

Eli gives a tense nod.

"Are you in trouble?"

Eli checks his watch again. "I will be for sure if I'm late," he says, glancing out the window. They are already at the hotel. "You can stop here." He feels around in his pocket. "How much?" he asks, producing a money-clipped stack of cash.

The cabbie checks the meter, then: "Consider it paid."

Confused, Eli raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

The cabbie turns in his seat to look at him. "I picked you up yesterday, too, but you looked very upset when I dropped you off. You paid an extra 40 dollars."

Eli's confusion grows. "Well, that's... that's unusually generous of me."

"Yes, I figured."

Eli frowns.

The cabbie offers a friendly smile. "Have a nice day."

Eli regards the younger man for a moment, unsure how to respond. "Okay." He unbuckles the seat belt, grabs the magazine, and steps out. He stands there for a moment, then turns back and taps on the taxi's window. The cabbie lets it down. "Yes?"

"Do you have a card?" Eli asks.

There is a pause. The cabbie regards him for a long moment. "Sure," he replies and hands him one. "I'm always just a phone call away."

Eli reads the name on the simple white card - Ajit Parmer -, then his attention shifts back to the driver, committing the face and the name to memory. "I will keep that in mind, Mr. Parmer," he says, then turns to walk off.

"Hey, I don't know your name."

Eli looks back. "No, you don't," he confirms with a small smile. "A nice day to you, too," he says, then starts towards the hotel's entrance.

"That blue Crown Vic with those tacky dices," Ajit says, making Eli turn back around. He is not smiling anymore.

"What about it?"

"It was on your tail yesterday, too."

But somebody is already climbing in the taxi. The address is barked out. "What are you waiting for?" the well-dressed man adds, irate and impatient. Ajit nods at Eli in goodbye, then swiftly drives off.

Eli pulls out his phone, enters the lobby, then quickly dials.

He's already at the elevators when he hears the familiar voice. "What is it?"

He pushes the call button. "I missed you, too."

"What is it, Eli?" Kalinda repeats her question.

Eli frowns. He can barely hear her. "Are you on the subway or something?"

"Wait." Kalinda steps out of the conference room where Will and Diane are still engaged in a heated verbal battle with David Lee. She pulls the door closed, muting the noise. "Can we make this quick?"

"Okay," Eli says, stepping in the elevator. "How fast can you get here?"

She glances back at the warring lawyers of Lockhart/Gardner. Will is still shouting, David Lee - waving a fistful of legal documents - is shouting back, and Diane is sitting quietly, arms folded, with a weary expression on her face. Kalinda takes it all in, thinking. Then: "How fast do you need me to get there?"

"So fast, you'll travel back in time and get here by yesterday," Eli replies, catching sight of Robert Fiedler as the elevator's doors open with a soft ding. He forces a smile and the older man nods at him in greeting.

Kalinda is silent, considering the request.

Robert turns and starts heading towards Eli. Time's up. "Kalinda...?"

"I'll go pack," she says, then simply hangs up.

TBC