The rest of the week passed and was normal enough. My nightmares were a thing of the past, but Morelli slept next to me every night. His presence not only provided physical warmth, but also a sense of security and overall comfort. I enjoyed going to bed to the feel of his arms around me, tucking me in against his chest. Listening to the sound of his breathing if Morelli fell asleep before I did, which usually lulled me to sleep. Waking up to the pleasant feeling of having gotten at least eight hours of sound and interrupted sleep.

Even more than that, waking up to the feel of warm arms around me. I didn't want to think about the other parts of Joe Morelli that accompanied his arms. We had an understanding that he wouldn't try to make any sexual moves on me while he was staying at my apartment, but I had a feeling that all bets were off if I initiated something. Anyway, I was mostly content with platonic cuddling for the sake of warding off nightmares.

On Friday morning, Morelli tentatively approached the topic of the impending move out.

We were eating Cheerios and strawberry pop tarts, a relatively healthy meal because the pop tarts had a fruit flavor, therefore making them a fruit. We were also drinking low fat milk, which was high in protein and, apparently, good for the bones. Morelli was reading the paper and I had finished my second pop tart and moved onto my cereal.

He looked up from the newspaper and studied me for a minute. I became a little uncomfortable at the long stare.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" I moved my tongue along my lips, but only tasted cheerios with a hint of strawberry pop tart.

Morelli smiled at me and shook his head. "You're fine. I was just thinking…"

Somehow, I knew where this conversation was going, and stiffened in my chair. Not very much, not enough to be noticeable, but I noticed it.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"You've been doing really well over the last week," Morelli began. "No nightmares. No jumping when I let myself into your apartment."

Had I been jumping earlier? I couldn't remember. Good thing I wasn't anymore. Cripes, I must have been a wreck when Morelli first moved in.

I nodded tentatively. "I've been doing a lot better."

"Yeah, and that's great." He smiled, but it was kind of forced. "Do you…" Morelli paused, then started up again. "I like living with you, Steph, but I'm not sure if you still need me…?"

I was quiet for a minute. From a safety perspective, both physical and emotional, I didn't need Morelli. That was what he'd asked.

"I'd probably be okay without you here," I confirmed.

Morelli nodded and gave me a halfhearted smile. "I mean, we're friends, Steph. I'd still visit…and you could show up at my place."

"That's if either of us let the other in," I joked.

The smile became understanding. "I care about you, Stephanie, and that's not gonna change anytime soon. Hell, you ran me over with your dad's Buick."

"You threw my car keys in a dumpster," I retorted.

"They were my keys," Morelli shot back.

"Yeah, so I did you a favor by getting them back."

Morelli rolled his eyes at me. "This is going to be one of those things we argue about for years."

Assuming either of us lived that long. The thought was depressing, and I shoved it towards the back of my head.

"Probably," I agreed.

"So, I guess I'll be moving out…"

My heart sunk, but I tried not to let it show on my face. "Yeah. Need help?"

What I didn't ask was when Morelli planned to move out. Was he talking about that day? Spending another weekend? Another week?

"Well," he began, "I'd like to have everything unpacked at my house by tomorrow night. I could spend tonight if I started packing before bed, and then finished it up tomorrow. I don't have a ton of stuff, but it will probably take at least two hours to get everything together."

I readily agreed to this. At least I knew that we had one last night. We could make the most of it.

Morelli's moving out had been a topic my brain had brought up several times within the last few days, and one that I had stubbornly avoided thinking about. Part of this was because I didn't want Morelli to leave, but part of me *did* want him to leave. I liked living on my own, having my queen sized bed all to myself, eating whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, and watching what I wanted on TV.

Okay, so the TV belonged to Morelli, since I hadn't gone out to buy a new one.

And yes, Morelli hardly interfered in what I ate or when I ate. A couple of times, I'd woken up with a craving for ice cream or pop tarts, and I'd snuck out of bed quietly, almost guiltily, in case he woke up and wanted to know what the hell I was doing up at that hour of the night. (Okay, so this never actually happened with him-it was more something that happened when I'd been a teenager and caught up at 2AM by my parents, for all of those reasons.)

The first time, I'd grabbed my snack and kept an eye trained on my bedroom door, as though expecting the Morelli Monster to appear and demand to know what was going on. The following morning, I kept waiting for him to say something, but he didn't, so I felt like a kid who'd gotten away with sneaking a cookie before breakfast. Unfortunately, my snacking the night before must have triggered something, because I woke up at 2AM for the second night in a row with a craving for ice cream. I disentangled myself from Morelli's arms and made my way to the kitchen without incident. I poured some leftover mint chocolate chip with cookie dough and brownie ice cream into a bowl and had just taken my first bite when I looked up to see none other than Joe Morelli.

His hair was disheveled and he was wearing a very soft, tan colored, oversized t-shirt and a pair of white boxers. He was also wearing his cop face. When he saw it was just me, the face softened into a smile and his eyes became golden brown.

I swallowed my mouthful of ice cream and gave a tentative smile back. I probably looked like, to borrow one of my mom's phrases, the cat that swallowed the canary.

"H-hi," I squeaked.

Morelli eyed the ice cream longingly. "Got any more of that?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "And if there isn't?"

Morelli took a seat at the table. "We could either share what you have there, or I could watch you eat that and give you sad puppy dog eyes the *entire* time."

I got up from my chair, taking my bowl with me. Might as well add some more to my bowl. "It's in the freezer. Do not eat the whole thing!" I told him, even though Morelli had been the one to purchase the ice cream.

Actually, there was at least half a gallon left, but Morelli and I could probably consume that in one sitting.

I removed the ice cream from the freezer, found a large spoon in one of my drawers, and added a few heaping spoonfuls to my bowl. This finished, I located another bowl from a cabinet and handed it to Morelli. He put so much ice cream in his bowl, I was sure it would collapse. I gave him a look, even though there was still plenty of ice cream left, and practically flung a smaller sized spoon at him.

"Don't blame me when you get twenty cavities," I told him, taking the container of ice cream back to the freezer.

Morelli just laughed. Morelli returned to the table a few minutes later, carrying a bowl that contained at least twice as much ice cream as mine did. I took another bite as he dug in.

We sat like that in more or less companionable silence while we devoured the ice cream. I should note that, despite having taken twice as much as I had, Morelli and I finished around the same time.

He leaned back in his chair. "That was good." He smiled at me. "Up for seconds, or are you ready to head back to bed?"

"Back to bed, but I should brush my teeth first."

"Me too." He grinned at me as though to say, "I won't be getting cavities after all."

"Me first."

"Sure, I'll warm up the bed." Morelli leaned over the table and kissed me on the forehead. "Do you do this often?"

I stood up unsteadily, sleepiness threatening to take over. "Not every day. Um, did I wake you up?"

Morelli shrugged. "I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night anyway. When I first saw your shadow in the doorway, I thought that someone had broken into your apartment."

He must not have taken the threat too seriously, because he didn't have his gun on him.

"To eat my ice cream?" I teased.

Morelli shrugged again. "I'm a cop. I've seen a lot of strange things before."

We didn't talk much about the ice cream encounter the following day, but from then on, if I woke up craving something sweet, I woke up Morelli and he joined me in my late night/early morning snack. There was no yelling, no "this is horrible for your health" lecture, or even a "you'll get fat if you keep this up". In fact, not once did Morelli complain about me waking him up at 2AM. I watched his face carefully over those late night snacks, and there was never so much as a look that indicated I was crazy and he was only putting up with this because I'd been through a few traumatic events within the last several weeks.

When I thought about it, this was one thing I'd probably miss when Morelli was gone.

After the initial awkwardness wore off, we sometimes had conversations during those early hours in the morning.

"Do you think there's life on other planets?" I asked Morelli one night/early morning, over chocolate chip pop tarts. We were waiting for the chocolate chip cookies to finish baking in my oven. Those had been his idea—I'd sooner have eaten the cookie dough raw.

"Life like plant life, or life like human life?"

I stared at the oven. Five more minutes to go.

"Either."

Morelli tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ears as he contemplated my question. I noticed that he always seemed to be in need of a haircut. He'd gotten one right after being reinstated with the Trenton police department, but it was already getting in his face. I wouldn't tell him this, but I thought it was kind of cute.

"Plant life seems more likely, but aren't there something like a hundred billion stars just in our galaxy? There has to be a planet out there like ours, with semi intelligent life."

"And the fact they haven't contacted us?"

Morelli shrugged. "Okay, then they're really intelligent. Or, they haven't mastered space flight yet."

"They might have ten eyeballs and three arms," I added. "Or are fifty feet tall."

"Some humans have more than two eyeballs, Cupcake," Morelli pointed out. "Teachers, for example."

I laughed. "I can believe that. It's probably a requirement for going into teaching."

"Definitely. And if someone wants to teach and doesn't have the third eye requirement, they make him or her get it in an operation."

"Ugh, thanks for the mental image," I complained, shuddering.

"The really good ones not only have eyes on the back of their heads, but also on the sides," Morelli told me. "It's just disguised to look like a mole on their neck. Or their ear."

Fortunately, the alarm went off, signaling that the cookies were ready, and I didn't have to think about this scenario for very long.

I smiled when I remembered this. As for having to share my bed with Morelli, sure I missed having more space, but if I had to choose between that and a warm body who I sort of had feelings for, on nine days out of ten, I'd choose the less space option.

The problem was the one day. The problem was that it was starting to get awkward. Not awkward enough to put a barrier in our tentative friendship, but it was still there.

If I was one of those people who made lists and measured everything by pros and cons—like my sister Valerie—I would make a list stating the pros and cons of Joe Morelli continuing to stay in my apartment. The pros would be much longer, and the cons would seem trivial. The pro side would win by a long shot. I'd ask Morelli to stay longer, and he'd probably say yes.

Except, the awkwardness would become larger and real relationship issues I'd managed to avoid dealing with-up to this point-would come up. The fact remained that Morelli definitely wanted sex and, possibly, an open relationship at some point. Definitely sex right now. He wouldn't pressure me, definitely wouldn't *force* me, but I was only human and I knew that, at some point, I'd probably agree to sex with Morelli. While I had no doubts that the sex would be awesome, the "after sex" aspect would follow and things would go from weird to beyond weird. Imagine what it would be like if we became roommates and then he decided he wanted an open relationship, which meant bringing other women back to my apartment. The idea was enough to make my hair stand on end.

It wasn't even an issue of me wanting a relationship and him wanting things to be casual. Dickie's betrayal might have happened several years ago, but the pain was still real. I didn't think that *all* men were scumbags, but relationships and marriage just weren't things I wanted to enter into again. Not now, possibly not ever. I had no desire to have kids, and while I did occasionally feel the *other* desires, I usually just had to remind myself about what Dickie had done and that made me put everything into perspective.

Besides, Morelli was hardly someone I'd just met and happened to develop a crush on.

We had history, and it hadn't been a good one. He'd messed up my life in the past, ruined my reputation with his poems about our intimate acts in at least two very public places.

Okay, he was sorry for it and the poems hadn't been up for very long, but it still happened. The humiliation was behind me, but part of the hurt was still present. I could tell that Morelli had changed, had become a somewhat decent person, but I just wasn't ready for anything beyond friendship with him. Sure, I was drawn to him, but insects were drawn to light, and it ended up killing them.

Okay, that analogy was a little too extreme.

Still, I couldn't deny that the time Morelli had spent at my apartment had been...memorable. In a mostly good way. If he stopped by in the future, I'd probably let him in. Maybe. Definitely, if he had pizza or meatball subs with him.

So, when the topic of his leaving came up, I agreed that I had been doing well, appreciated what he'd done, and added that I probably didn't need him living with me anymore.

On Friday night, his last night at my apartment, we had spaghetti and hamburgers for dinner. I made the spaghetti—with only minimal help—while he handled the hamburgers. I'd expected things to be sad and awkward, but it ended up being what passed for a normal dinner between us. For dessert, we made chocolate chip brownies from a package, adding in extra chocolate chips from a bag I had, and we each ate five in the first hour. Later on, I brought out vanilla and strawberry ice cream, which was especially refreshing after the thick, chocolate brownies.

We watched a little TV after dinner, but nothing good was on. I suggested that we play some board games.

"Scrabble again?" he asked me, looking kind of hopeful.

I agreed, glad it was a game I knew I could crush him at. "I'll go easy on you."

He raised his eyebrows. "You're not THAT good, Steph."

"So, in our last game when I scored almost 300 and you barely broke 100?"

"That was just one game."

"Joe, I don't think you ever scored higher than 200..."

He gave me a fake glare. At least, I was pretty sure it was fake.

"I'm just saying that you have to admit that I'm either an okay player and you're horrible, or I'm a pretty good player and you're still learning."

"Can there be a middle ground?"

I considered this for a minute. "No."

"Guess I have to go with the second option."

I retrieved the board from my bedroom closet and set up the pieces. The game went pretty slowly, and I was at least 90% sure that Morelli attempted to cheat by switching some of his letters when he thought I wasn't looking.

I'd been intending to go easy on him, but after the third time I caught Morelli trying to cheat, I decided not to baby him. The final score was 350 to 136. He probably only would have gotten 100 if he hadn't tried to switch his letters so, in a way, cheating DID pay.

At my insistence, we played a second game, and I kept my eyes on the board the whole time so that Morelli couldn't cheat. This kind of hindered my playing, so the scores were the most even they'd ever been-267 to 243. By the look on Morelli's face, you'd have thought that Christmas came early.

Still, neither of us was in the mood for a third game. I think we were both hoping to make the most out of the platonic sleeping together part of our last evening. I'd changed into a flannel nightgown right before dinner, so Morelli showered while I brushed my teeth and was mostly successful at not looking.

A familiar sense of unease swept over me as I climbed into bed and waited for Morelli to join me. With him sleeping next to me, my nightmares had become a thing of the past. I didn't think they'd necessarily return when he left, because I felt much safer, but in my apartment and overall in my job. I'd done a good job apprehending my few skips since Morelli, and those were the ones I'd stick with for the time being. Ramirez might be alive, but he was sentenced to fifty years in jail. Even if he got out early, it wouldn't be for at least ten more years. Alpha was dead. Pretty much anyone who wanted me dead was behind bars or out of the picture entirely. I'd known this since Morelli had visited my apartment and brought over the pizza, but it had taken awhile to sink in on an emotional level. Probably, if Morelli hadn't insisted on staying with me, I would have tried the Plum approach to the problem-avoidance. Thing was, avoidance didn't always work in the long run.

The unease I felt now was the kind you felt when something really good was about to end. The last day on a family vacation, the last day with a friend before she moved across the country because her dad had been transferred, and who knew if you'd ever see that person again. Granted, Morelli wasn't moving across the country-he barely lived ten minutes away-but those ten minutes might as well be ten thousand miles once he was no longer living with me.

For the umpteenth time, I wondered if I was making the right decision by letting him go. I even considered the possibility of maybe trying for a relationship, or at least a one night stand. But things had been pretty horrible the last time that happened and, even though he wasn't the eighteen year old who wrote stuff about me on public venues, the awkwardness would still be there. For the umpteenth time, I decided that it would be better to let him go and feel lonely for a couple of days than ask him to stay and have things be weird indefinitely.

Before I could think about this for too long, he arrived in my room, wearing an oversized t-shirt and boxer pajamas. He stood in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary.

"What are you waiting for?" I asked.

He shrugged, reddening. "Just wanted to make sure it was okay."

"As long as it doesn't go any further than it did over the last week, yeah."

He just nodded and got in under the covers. I moved closer to Morelli, and he took that as a cue to wrap his arms around me. I curled towards him, wanting to see the face of the man who was holding me. I blushed a little as I thought this, because Morelli and I definitely weren't in any kind of romantic relationship. He gave me a sleepy smile and I put my head on his chest, just under his neck. We didn't talk, just laid there with us holding each other. I could hear Morelli's heart beating and feel his breath on my hair.

Both were rhythmic and calming, and before I knew it, I was sound asleep. My sleep was deep and dreamless, which is how it usually was when I slept beside Morelli. I was relieved that I hadn't started dreaming about him.

I woke up at dawn to the familiar feel of Morelli's arms wrapped around my stomach. My head was pressed up against his neck, and I lay completely still for awhile, enjoying the feel of his warm breath on my forehead. I was pretty sure that he was still asleep. I wanted to stay like this for awhile, not miss a moment of it by sleeping. But exhaustion claimed me, and when I woke up again, I was still huddled against Joe, but the bright light from the sun shining in my room woke me up.

It was a Saturday, so I knew he didn't have to go to work. There wasn't really any rush to get up. We could stay there all day. But prolonging the moment of departure would just make it that much harder when the time came. And it had to come at some point that day.

Still, we cuddled for awhile, not saying anything. I sighed, and put my face on his chest, closing my eyes.

"Want me to give you a back rub?" he asked, arms still wrapped around me.

That sounded great, and I nodded. His hands moved from around my waist up towards my shoulders, massaging them carefully in circular motions. It was familiar, much like the way he had done so many times after I'd woken up screaming from a nightmare. It was very sensual and I could feel my eyelids growing heavy. I probably drifted off into sleep, because when my eyes opened again, it was after eleven and my bladder was yelling at me to get up.

I groaned, reluctant to leave Morelli's very comfortable arms. "I gotta pee," I announced.

"Me too," he admitted, and we headed towards the bathroom. Morelli followed me and stepped into the bathroom after I got out. I looked in the direction of my bedroom, rather wistfully.

We could just go back to bed after responding to nature's call, but it was like the spell had broken. Sleeping Beauty had to wake up and oversee the rest of the kingdom. The prince had to go off and fight the dragon.

Morelli had done most of his packing before dinner the night before. I'd helped, finding things he'd have forgotten, like his shampoo and his shaving cream. He'd left me the conditioner, claiming it wasn't worth transporting because it was almost empty.

When I lifted it, it seemed to be at least half full, but I didn't say anything about it. I did sneak a mostly full container of my toothpaste into his bag when he wasn't looking.

Still, there were still some things Morelli had to pack up after we had a quiet breakfast of pancakes. I watched as he looked around the apartment for odds and ends, not completely trusting myself to speak.

I noticed that he left the brown blanket on the bed. I almost didn't say anything, but I forced myself to speak.

"What about this?" I asked, nodding towards the blanket.

"Keep it for now," he replied, smiling. "Not enough room. You'll want it if they don't turn the heat on soon. You'd probably freeze to death without it."

I forced a laugh. "I doubt it."

It wouldn't be the same as sleeping in his arms, but the blanket would smell like him for awhile. That gave me sense of relief, and I stroked the blanket absentmindedly.

I let go of the breath I'd been holding.

Finally, he stood up, and I followed suit.

"I almost forgot." He reached into his pocket and handed me back the keys. "As promised. I didn't make any copies."

Maybe I should have told him to keep them, but I didn't. I took them, smiling, and dropped them on the table.

"Thanks."

Morelli pulled me into a bear hug that lasted for the better part of a minute. I don't think either of us were too eager to let go.

"Don't get excited but...I'd probably let you in if you came over in the future," I told him, walking towards the door.

He rolled his eyes. "Cupcake, you don't know what you got yourself into with that. Now, I'll probably be around so much, you'll think I lived here. You'll move across state to get rid of me."

I laughed, and he followed a second later. We both knew that moving out of Trenton wasn't even a remote possibility.

We hugged again. He pushed some loose strands of hair out of my face. "See you 'round, Cupcake."

Morelli opened the door and left. I watched him from my window as he made his way back to his car. We both waved as he drove away. A pang of loneliness settled inside me.

As a kid, I'd attended sleepovers and had given a few during various birthdays. I'd always felt sad right after everyone left. No matter how much fun we had, the party was officially over and it was just me and my parents. The gifts had cheered me up, but there was always a sense of let down.

I felt that way right now. Lonely. Apart. Distant. So, I headed towards my bedroom and lay down, wrapping myself in the brown blanket. Breathing in Joe's scent. It helped considerably. A half an hour later, I returned to the kitchen, the blanket still wrapped around me, and proceeded to do the dishes left over from breakfast. Despite this, the smell of pancakes lingered in the air for the remainder of the day.

The End