It's raining here again in Nashville. The historic clean up has been going on for a while, but with more rain a pause needed to be taken. I am down to four more full days of school on top of it all. Here is what I have been thinking of during all that has been going on here. Let me know.

The most fragile instant in the morning is where one finds themselves unknowingly between the realm of a deep sleep and the beginning of wakefulness. It's the moment when the mind makes a choice to go deeper into dreamful sleep or start waking up. It's the intermission before one makes the choice to snuggle back into the warmth of the covers that the body has made or to throw back the sheets, lose that cocoon of heat and face the day. Some say it's that nano-flash of a second that someone decides to get up on the right side of the bed or the wrong. This decision, this subconscious switch to wake is flipped or not flipped in a blink of an eye and many factors play into how and when it happens.

If it leads to someone becoming conscious of the fact that a new day has started then the trigger to start the process could have been a sound like that of an alarm, or car honking in the street or even a phone ringing. It could be a feeling like that of someone touching you or the urgency of realizing you were late for work. It could even be the gut urge of something that was forgotten to be done. Smells can also jump start the brain in the morning. The most powerful scent is that of coffee. There is this strange cosmic mental connection made between the scent of the coffee and waking up.

But it wasn't any of these things that roused Lindsay from slumber. It was the internal clock that kicked her brain in the back side and started waking her up. It told her that she'd slept enough and it was time to get up and be productive. The night was over and sleep time was departing. The process of getting in the shower twenty minutes later was a shock to her system and a confusing one.

Lying belly down, head turned looking at the floor, and hanging half off the edge of the bed, Lindsay had visions dancing through her head and it had nothing to do with sugar plums. They were of a man, a man she knew well and this man did things to and with her in these visions that made her squirm where she lay. The movements of her body in bed led to another wonderful discovery: her body ached. Every muscle in her body ached that most pleasurable of aches that only came from a night of tumbling around with another human being. A lazy smile pulled the corners of her mouth up and her arm went blindly looking for the man next to her in bed that was the cause of her visions. The sheets under her hand were cool and smooth. Her hand moved up and down the space in wide arches looking for Danny, but there was no Danny to be found. Turning her head with the least amount of pain possible she used her eyes to aide in the search and still nothing was found. There was no indentation in the pillow from someone's head spending the night sleeping on it. The scent lingering in the air was that of clean fresh sheets instead of the unique mixture of scents that she identified with Danny.

Doing an uncoordinated half push-up, Lindsay raised her body enough to look around the room despite how much her body protested. Nothing unusual jumped out at her. There were no out of place signs that proved that Danny had been there. No clothing trail leading out of the bedroom and down the hall like she remembered. The sheets and covers were straight and not twisted around on the bed or discarded on the floor. There was no proof that anything that she remembered happening between her and Danny actually happened.

She fell back on her stomach and forced all the breath from her lungs which resulted in a very unladylike grunt of frustration. The pillow absorbed most of it. There would have been kicking and pounding of her fists but her muscles protested.

There was only one conclusion: it must have all been a dream, a very good dream. A very involved dream, but a dream non the less. Every touch, every kiss, grab, caress, moan and sigh must have been a sleeping fantasy. And it was the worst kind because there was not actual fun had. It was imagined, one sided, not enjoyed by two people. It was not something that both people would remember or have knowledge of. It was not something that they could share silent looks across the lab about, or flirt with their eyes about while passing in the hall. She had to deal with all the memories on her own and hope that Danny didn't think her crazy when she stared at him imagining, replaying the previous nights acrobatics that only she knew about. What would it be like at work when she saw him?

Oh! No! Work!

She glanced at the clock. She was late. The alarm didn't go off. The first shift of the day started in forty-five minutes. Moving carefully, but quickly, she ducked into the bathroom to start the shower and then detoured into the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker to run while she cleaned up and let the hot water work out some of the soreness from the night before. Pausing against the door of the bathroom her image appeared in the mirror. It must have been some dream.

Feet shuffling along the floor was better than true steps; it used fewer muscles. Lindsay yawned a great big, loud opened mouth yawn and stretched. Her fingers worked around the corners of her eyes to get the crusties out and her head rolled to elongate the muscles in her neck. Finally reaching the counter, she steadied herself with both hands. A herculean amount energy and stretching was exhausted to collect the items needed: coffee filters and freeze dried stimulants. The process was taking unusually longer than normal.

Front open.

Filter in.

Lid off the can.

Scoop in hand.

Now the hard part, she had to count and remember how many scoops went into the filter. She was more exhausted than she thought. The little plastic cup dug into the dark brown granules and the aroma filled her senses.

"You don't have to do that." Danny's voice announced from behind her at the table. The first instinct was to go for her gun, but by the second syllable it was all just the rush. Her body's reflex to him startling her was that all the already aching muscles coiled. Her head dropped for a minute to get over the boost of adrenaline the sound of his voice caused. And really any voice would have caused the reaction.

Spinning on a heel, she turned to face his voice but only found an open newspaper hiding his figure. The paper needed to come down. She needed to see him. Was he wearing the same clothes from the day before, was his hair messy…well messier from not being styled for the day? Was there proof that last night wasn't a dream? On the other hand, he did still have a key and he could have just been moved enough to bring her coffee. She stared at the printed oversized page and willed it away. That damn newspaper needed to disappear.

The paper did move but instead of being put down he turned to the next page.

"I got you coffee from that place on the corner I know you like so much. There's a chocolate croissant there for you also."

But she didn't move, the counter became her leaning post and fidgeted. "What are you doing up so early on your day off?"

"I didn't know you kept track of my schedule."

Another paged turned. He was coming close to the last page of the section and it had to go away eventually.

"I always have." The words were meant to sound casual and light, but came out creepy.

"Well." He started and fluffed the paper to fold it up properly and she caught the first sight of him. "I wasn't in my bed, which normally isn't a problem. I mean I can sleep almost anywhere including standing in the corner of the break room if I have to, but…" His grin grew to match hers. "…someone was being a blanket hog and was trying to take her half of the bed out of the middle and some out of all four corners." Lindsay ducked and tried to hide the embarrassment of the accusation he was making. At the same time she was doing the internal spazzy happy dance without showing any signs of it on her face. The first steps towards her seat at the table were taken. "I finally gave up and went for coffee." He pointed to the untouched cup for her and the bag with the pastry. "I'll find a ballgame later this afternoon and lay on the couch for a nap. I hoped you might join me."

"Can't, gotta to get to work?"

"No way, you're off, Hun."

She looked past him, over his shoulder and checked the calendar on the wall. There was no work hours marked. Danny stacked the front page of the paper on top of the rest of the untouched paper and rose from his seat. "Eat up." We have a whole day to waste together." He kissed her temple and disappeared from the kitchen. The bathroom door clicked shut and she heard the shower curtain move.

Usually it would irk her to no end that he took her shower, but not that time. His hair was askew and messy, he did indeed have the same clothes on from the night before and there was stiffness to his step. Either they had the same intense active dream or they had a really good time the night before. The imagined kiss from the hallway at the hospital, which they reenacted in the kitchen, led them to her bed, with a stop at the counter, the couch, the hall, the wall, and the bedroom floor. Hours passed before exhaustion and satisfaction took them away.

And it definitely wasn't a dream, it was real.

She enjoyed her moment and sat a little straighter in the chair and was able to enjoy the strain on her body. Shepicked at the chocolate croissant and the coffee sipped. Feeling the day start to slow down around her and letting the rush of Danny surprising her drain from her limbs, the newspaper called to her. The headlines needed to be read and she had time for it. The story she was following continued to page six and she searched. After finishing the story, pages just turned out of curiosity.

Closer to the back of the section, among the black and white small print were the ads promoting slaes that were occurring over the weekend. Surrounding one particular ad there were red arrows drawn, obviously by Danny's hand. In the best representation that newsprint could provide, the highlighted ad showed a jewelry sale. Bracelets, necklaces, earrings, charms and rings shined their brightest in gray and black tones. To the side in the margin, again in Danny's hand, were his words: "Don't even think about it Montana. It's just an allotrope of the element carbon."

Her first feeling was to laugh at the reference. The jewelry store, the Holly's, connecting all the points to solve the case. But the air became hard to breath in the small kitchen and Lindsay was in that apartment undercover again reliving the explosion in her memory. The flash bomb activated and smoke filled the air while her ears rang. There was disorientation and confusion. She shielded her head and waited for it all to calm down. Stella started screaming at the suspect and then someone was calling her name but it didn't sound like anything she'd ever heard. It was faint as first, unrecognizable due to tone. The dull din in her ears cleared and it became who apparent who was searching the apartment for her. She heard the desperation in Danny's voice as she called her, searched for her, calling again and again and again until she answered. Two arms shot out from his body and yanked her to him. The death grip she had on his vest was nothing compared to how tightly his arms held her to him. The air would clear, the suspect hauled away, and Mac showed up before they moved away from each other.

They finished at the scene and she was never out of his sight. Mac gave her a stern talking to and then was grateful that nothing went wrong. Back in the lab she needed to complete all the paperwork associated with the role she played and he was at her side the whole time. He helped with her coat and rode the elevator with her to the lobby. He walked her to the train and waited for it to leave the station before finding his own way home. Once she was safe behind the locked door of her apartment, she sent out the text he requested: "I'm home, door locked." He was adamant about that text and warned her that he would cross the city to make sure she was safe if it didn't come in.

His immediate response back was to ask her out for drinks to talk about what had happened between them that day. She knew something changed. She heard the emotion; she heard worry, and the desperation in his voice at the scene. It was more than a friendly, colleague concern. There was something deeper to it. The flirting in the past and situation of the day collided, pushing him to take the next step. She always regretted standing him up. And maybe it was a good time to make it up to him.

As fast as her muscles would carry her she left the table, her shirt dropped to the floor and she snuck into the bathroom to take her shower back…or at least share it with him.