Standing inside the kitchen, Dawson and I both dripped soaking wet on the hardwood floors. Instantly, I was cold, shivering when the rain had entered the inside of my clothing, settling in between my skin and the cotton. My socks were squishy, full of water that had pooled while we ran through puddles that had formed around the driveway.

I hugged my middle as puddles of water exited our bodies beneath our feet, Dawson wiping his face with the back of his head, clearing water from his eyes

"I'll get some towels" His lips lifted, almost proudly after he'd peeled his shoes off, his socks just as wet as my own

Dawson momentarily disappeared down the hall, and when he returned, he held more than two towels in his arms. He placed one on the floor, intended to soak up the water, and then he held one out for me. I began by drying my face, glad I hadn't worn makeup. I slipped my shoes off and placed them on the towel on the floor, followed by my socks. Dawson stood close by, shaking the towel over his hair and face, and then he began to undo his belt, his gun and badge remaining in place, soaked.

I felt a rush of coldness run through me, my eyes instantly turning away at the idea of him undressing even in the simplest of ways. I could hear him place the belt and accessories on the kitchen bench, and when I bravely looked up again, he had draped the towel over his shoulders.

I felt my cheeks rush warm, a small part of me feeling tension rise between Dawson and I, explainable tension. I needed to escape before I could attempt to understand what those feelings of tension meant, so when I was convinced I'd stopped dripping enough, I made my way upstairs for a shower and dry set of clothes.

Lying on my back on my bed, in a fresh pair of tights and a T-shirt, my hair towel dried and left out, I stared at the roof. By late afternoon, I could always feel the affects of not having decent sleep begin to take over. My reactions became slow, my mind foggy and my eyes heavy. My breathing was slow, my muscles relaxed and as I closed my eyes, I began to think of all the things I would be able to do again once I was allowed to return home. With a wandering mind and the sound of rain continuing to fall on the roof, I could feel myself drift into sleep, welcoming it at any moment I could, hoping for the best.

"What are you doing?" A deep voice asked, the man behind it instantly recognizable as Dawson

I shrugged, looking out to the water as I sat with my legs crossed on the dock "Admiring the stillness while I can I guess"

Dawson moved towards me, sitting down beside me, his eyes out where mine were, wandering aimlessly, taking in the serenity.

"It's like another universe, here compared to home" I said lowly "What's the crime rate out how compared to out there?"

Dawson sighed "Ridiculously different"

"I'm torn between both lifestyles, I love the busyness of the city, but this, this is just breathtaking to wake up to every morning, the silence, the calmness.." I trailed off

"I can understand, I feel the same way" He agreed

"Can I ask you a personal question Dawson?"

He nodded

"Why are you alone?"

"Alone?" He repeated

"You have a good job, you're smart and brave and come from a well-rounded family, why aren't you with someone, sharing your life, sharing your qualities?" I couldn't dare look at his face, keeping straight

He was quiet for moment, and then he answered "There have been opportunities, but I haven't ever leaned into them one hundred percent, this job makes it hard, I don't really know why, there just hasn't ever been the right moment, the right person..."

I could feel his eyes move to the side of my face, burning into me, begging me to return the gaze. At first, there was no way I could look, there was no way I could turn to face his strong hazel eyes. His presence, his velvet tone, the draw to him urged me to stay away. But as the seconds ticked on, and his stare continued pulling me, I gave in.

Instantly I knew I was in trouble. Our faces were closer than they needed to be, yet neither one of us moved. A rush of adrenaline raced through my blood and before I could blink, before I could stop and think about it, Dawson had pushed his lips against mine, his hand taking a gentle hold of the side of my face. I probably should have pulled away from him, but the fact was, I didn't want to. There had always been tension between Dawson and I, this was us giving in.

I moved against him, and as quick as it had begun, it had progressed.

Turning my body I moved closer, my hands lifting to his chest gripping his shirt. We had become frantic, searching one another. Our lips crashed together, exploring and testing boundaries. His hands moved from my face to my hips, lifting my body to his. The tension exploded, urging us to further the contact. I wanted to feel his skin beneath my fingertips, his raw emotions against mine.

My breathing was rough, rigid, and as I pulled back to take in the moment, my eyes shot open. In front of me was no Dawson James, it was the roof of my bedroom, white, bare, reality.

Holding my breath, calming it, I sat up, realization setting in.

A wash of embarrassment swept over me, my skin warm and reactive to the dream I'd fallen into. How could my mind have betrayed me in such a way, how could I have thought of such things to do with a man that I'd barely known?

Rubbing my eyes, standing beside the bedroom window I thought about just how unrealistic the dream had been. The dream itself hadn't been the worst of the situation, no, instead, the worst of it all, was just how much my body and mind had wanted it to be real. Was is because I genuinely felt a connection to him, or because I was drawn to the safety of him, for what he was doing for me? I tried to analyze it, down to every detail, every inch of the purpose, but there was no point, I couldn't think of any solid reason other than the actual feelings I had developed for Dawson over our time together.

Physically shaking my head clear, the darkness outside told me that it was late, well past ten pm. I hoped to God that Dawson was already in bed when I made my way down the stairs in search of dinner. My stomach growled loudly, unbothered by the idea that I may run into Dawson, needing only one thing, food.

Moving as quietly as I could, darkness surrounded the living room, thankfully the coast was clear and I was able to make myself a quick sandwich before being caught out. It was then I remembered the tablets I'd been given. I'd forgotten where they'd been left, my eyes searching for the white box over the countertops, the kitchen, the dining table. I was beginning to debate whether or not to find them in hopes of having a dreamless night, or surrendering to bed without them in fear of Dawson emerging from his room. It was a difficult choice to make, but I was an adult, why was I allowing such a nonsense dream to have such an affect on me? Deeply sighing, I tried to wash away the immaturity of my thinking.

These tablets were going to help me, they were what I needed to function normally, so I began a more intense search.

I hadn't remembered hiding them anywhere, I hadn't remembered moving them from where Dawson had originally given them to me, on the kitchen island. All I could think, was that someone had moved them, the kitchen clean, tidy.

Entering the kitchen, I began opening cupboards. My logic said that there would perhaps be a medicine cupboard filled with first aid and band-aids somewhere.

Leaning upwards, I pulled a cupboard open above the fridge, nearing the end of the kitchen expedition. I had been expecting food containers, spare bowls, cooking utensils, anything but what was actually behind it. I paused, holding it open, a dark safe with a keypad number panel required for entry. Why was it in the kitchen, what was it hiding inside? Questions swirled as I stood on my toes, unsure of what to make of it.

"What are you looking for?" A dark low voice entered my space. My body instinctively jerked around, almost toppling over as I caught myself on the bench's edge. I held my erratic heart, clutching at my chest as I stared unblinking at Dawson who stood at the bottom of the stairs

"Seriously?" I breathed, irritated by his way of surprise, consistently scaring me

He was half asleep, his eyes narrow as he neared me "Sorry, I'm sorry.."

Gaining control of my racing heart, I stood up straight "I'm looking for the sleeping tablets you gave me"

He stood opposite the bench, his eyes lifting to where the cupboard I'd opened remained opened. Busted.

"They aren't in there" He pointed, moving around the counter, pushing the door closed "And if you're wondering, there's a .22 in there, my parents were always careful, just like I like to be" He was rubbing his eyes and sweeping back his hair with his fingers as he moved to other side of the kitchen, entering the pantry

"Here" He snaked his arm into the space, pulling out the familiar white box "Just one"

He stood directly in front of me, the box in his hand as I stood frozen. The repercussions of my dream were catching up to me. I couldn't look at him, I couldn't lift my eyes. He gave a yawn, shaking the box, unsure of why I was acting the way I was. When I didn't move, he arched his head sideways, trying to lift my eyes.

"You okay?"

I nodded, lifting my hand to take the box, removing myself from his space as quickly as I could "Thanks" Without another word, another glance, I escaped upstairs unscathed, looking like a complete idiot despite having already had the mature talk with myself.

Uncomfortably dry swallowing my tablet, I was thankful they were small. There was no way I was going to go back downstairs to get a forgotten glass of water. Lying down, I begged for a good night's rest, hell, I needed it. My thought processing was all over the place. I was being irrational, ridiculous. I was acting like an awkward teenage girl in high school, it was embarrassing.

Curling up under the covers, I watched the shadows of the tree's outside sway back and forth. I tried not to think at all, but it was difficult. I waited, patiently focusing on sleep, thoughtless, empty sleep. With my eyes closed, with what would have been only around 20 minutes later, I could feel my eyelids become heavier than normal, my brain fuzzing, my mind dark and gently pulling me under. I wash of relief slithered through my body, eager for an emptiness to take over.

I begged for a night without nightmares, without dreams, good or bad, desired or undesired. Dreams that would not involve murder, Tony, blood and most of all, Dawson and I exploring unspoken chemistry between us.