Okay Boscorelli, don't freak out here, keep your cool. You just realized you're in love with partner of 13 years, probably always have been. No problem, you can deal. I mean c'mon, I've been with my share of women, been in love lots of times, right?

Hunh.

Well, actually, that last part is kind of the problem, isn't it? I haven't actually ever been in love before - or rather, I always have been, and just didn't know it. I guess this would be what you might call an epiphany, huh. Now I understand why I got bored with women after a few weeks, why they were always lacking. They were lacking all right - they didn't have faith, my Faith. The Faith I'd always been looking for.

Speaking of Faith I realize I had almost forgotten she was there for a couple of minutes, and when I finally am able to focus my eyes, I realize that she's getting a bit uneasy with my silence. I plaster a fake smile onto my shell-shocked face, and tighten my arm around her waist. While the smile is work, holding her closer is the most natural thing in the world. I can't help myself, I just want to feel her against me. I'm afraid it might alarm her but it seems to provide the reassurance she's looking for.

The song ends, and another one starts. Thankfully, it's a slow one - I have no desire to let go of Faith yet. Actually, there's no way in hell I'm ever letting her go, now that I've had my earth shattering revelation but I figure one thing at a time here. I decide I had better say something, before she starts to freak out.

"So, your partner - he's not around anymore?"

My voice comes out harsher than I intend as I attempt to speak around my heart, which has firmly lodged itself in my throat. Faith flinches a bit at my tone, my words. She tenses her body, uncertain if it's something she has done that makes me sound angry. I run my thumb lightly across the fleshy part of her palm in what I hope appears to be a reassuring yet platonic gesture, and smile at her. She relaxes a bit, and eases back into my embrace.

"Um, no, no he's still around. I was promoted while he was...he was off work for a bit. Recuperating. He was shot... in the line of duty."

"Really? Tough guy, huh?"

Faith snorts. "He likes to think so. But he's not so tough." Her voice drops and I have to drop my head closer to hers, to catch her words. Bad move. The scent of her, the mix of shampoo and soap, the hint of margarita lingering on her breathe are intoxicating. I catch myself just in time, as I start to sway in to nuzzle her, inhale her, almost missing her next words.

"He's brave though. He was shot...saving me. I owe him everything.."

With those words, I feel my universe shift again. She owes me? Is she kidding me! Man, saving her was the most selfish thing I have ever done. How can she not realize that I saved her because I had to, because without her I wouldn't have had a reason to live, and that without her I would have lost the best part of me? But her words give me hope. That maybe, just maybe, someday, I can show her that she owes me nothing,

I have to fight an overwhelming desire to pick her up and run away from all these people, these eyes, run away from our pasts, all of the missteps and mistakes that led us to this point, a point where we have to pretend to be different people to be able to talk, to communicate, to say so many of the things we should have said years ago.

As these thoughts race through my mind, something must have betrayed me, maybe the look on my face, or perhaps it was an indiscriminate part of my body. Whatever it was, I sense Faith tense and try to pull away. I tighten my arm around her, and let go of her hand, bringing my fingers to her cheek, and look steadily into her eyes, trying to convey what I'm feeling without driving her away, trying to let her know that something is different, better, the same but more. I feel her hesitation as she returns my stare, I see her confusion cloud her eyes, then quickly, see the clouds clear as understanding dawns. And just as I'm about to stop breathing, I see something else, an answering spark, an acknowledgement of where our dance is leading, and an indication of her willingness to follow.

Even though neither of us has said a word, I feel like I've been a babbling like a fool, that every thought and feeling has poured out of me in an incoherent deluge. But at the same time, I know Faith understands, and hears everything I'm not saying. And just to be sure, I decide it's time to take our dance to someplace a little more private.

"So, uh, Faith, do you want get out of here?"

Did I move too fast? Did I read her wrong? Did I imagine seeing the same look in her eyes? After a heart stopping moment of long scrutiny, which leaves me starting to worry about just what she's seeing here, the smile again breaks through again, the smile that tells me it's all going to be okay, the smile that has become (always has been, you idiot) my reason to live.

"No, I don't think so..."

"Pardon?"

"Sorry, Moe. I can't leave with you."

Damn, this is not good. I was so sure...

"But I would...with Bosco."

"Hunh?"

Oh, smooooooth, Boscorelli. You sound like some high school dork. But I'm really not capable of saying much more, as my stomach is trying it's best to fight it's way past my heart, which had previously taken up residence around my adam's apple.

"Whaaaaaa?" Oh much better...

"Maurice, may I speak with Bosco please?"

Now it's my turn to stare, as I true to decode the messages I think, hope she's sending. I have always been so good at this, so good at knowing what women are saying. But this, this is like learning a new language and I'm lost.

"Bosco?"

"Look Maurice, you're a nice guy - but you're no Bosco. So please, can I have him back??" She gives me a pleading look, one I've never been able to refuse.

"Sure, Faith. What ever you want."

"Hmnmm not sure if that sounds like my Bosoc yet, but it's a start"

My Bosco... has a nice ring to it. I'm pondering the possibilities of being Faiths' Bosco when I realize she is asking me a question.

"Sorry, I missed that."

"I said, is the offer still open? To, you know, get out of here? Now that I've got you Boz, I was thinking we could go somewhere and talk?"

"Talk?"

"Yeah, talk. I'm thinking, we maybe don't do that enough. I mean, I know I talked your ear off in the hospital. Bu I'm guessing that doesn't count, with you having been unconscious and all. So, you know, maybe there's some stuff we should have said...over the years...maybe some stuff that, that still needs to be said. Maybe it's not too late. If Faith Mitchell and Maurice can do it, maybe we can too"

I have a hard time hearing her, as she appears to be speaking to the second button on my shirt, her head ducked uncertainly. Faith unsure of herself, uncertain of what she is doing or saying? Wow, this really is an evening of firsts. I smile a little but keep my amusement to myself, knowing it could be misinterpreted, that tonight the dance we are really dancing is not the one floor, and we are still learning the steps.

"Yeah, we could do that." My voice is soft, husky, as I take her hand and we leave the bar. I am overwhelmed by all the feelings I have for her, the sort of feelings I always thought guys were such weak dorks to have and that area apparently alive and kicking in me. Who knew?

As we start to walk towards my apartment, I struggle to not drag her into every darkened door way we pass and show her just how I'm feeling. I fight to keep myself in check and not betray just how badly I want us to be alone, where we can work together on these new dance steps. Just to be, in some place we where escape who we were, who we are and exist only in and for each other. Where darkness will surround us, keeping us safe.

Sight will no longer be our primary sense, and we'll dance in the dark, learning from each other, taking turns leading, exploring each other through a long, slow journey, letting the rest of our senses guides us through and around the barriers we've put up around ourselves. The sense of smell will envelop us, as the perfumes that are Faith ensnare me, and lead me into her. Next, hearing will be our guide, as the sound of her heartbeat fills my soul, and a soft, sharply drawn inhalation escapes as the warmth of my body moves closer to hers, and she hears my life calling to her. Touch follows, as my hands entwine in her hair, caress her neck and jaw, sliding down her arms, along her waist and finally capture the bare velvet of her skin, and the responding shiver that races through her body as my fingertips tease their way. Finally taste, as I discover all the sources of the intoxicating scents that have tantalized me and enticed me over the years, from her skin, her hair, her breath, her body.

As my thoughts run away with me, I turn and look at Faith. And I realize that, while maybe we've never said a lot of things that we should have, we both always knew the stuff that matters, that while many times we may have been dancing out of step with each other, we were always listening to the same song. We just needed to stop being us for a while, and not think about all that has and hasn't been said. That we just needed to be a man and a woman, to start dancing and everything would fall into place. We always knew the steps.

I feel a smile start to spread across my face and I stop to stare at her. She continues ahead for a few steps and stops abruptly when she realizes I am no longer at her side. She turns slowly and looks, her answering smile beginning before she is even fully looking at me. I don't know what makes me do it - instinct? - but without thinking I open my arms wide to her. And without thinking, she runs straight into them. As I pull her close, into the darkened doorway I had conveniently stopped in front of, I hear her whisper "Let's dance."