"How do you feel?" Dawson asked me once I'd handed the phone back to him

"Better surprisingly" I sighed as I slumped back "It was nice to just, talk.."

He was looking at me over his laptop "You know, you can always 'just talk' to me?"

I shrugged "It's different.."

"I've been hearing that word a lot lately" He mumbled, unimpressed

He was right, I had been using it a lot, because it was true. He would have been astounded as to how many other times I had used the word when talking to myself about things I knew I couldn't vocalize to him. How did I politely tell him that things between he and I were now, different?

When I kept quiet, unsure of what else to say to him, he abruptly closed his laptop and placed it on the table between us, leaning forward as he looked at me

"What's been going on with you?" His eyes were narrow, pinning me down

I folded my hands together between my thighs, shrugging "What do you mean?"

"We're beyond that point aren't we? Pretending we don't notice when behavior changes, do you forget that we spend every day together, learn each others habits and tones?" He began "Do you remember that I've been trained to understand lies, body language, even the way your eyes drop when you think something your lips refuse to say"

I pointed at him, trying to make light of it "That's not fair"

"Jasmine, c'mon now.." He wasn't falling for it, I felt trapped, cornered, so I stood with a sigh, eager to escape in any way I could

"You out of everyone should understand that my behavior has changed because we've been trapped here for the last two weeks" I told a half truth

Sensing my urge to flee, he stood, his eyes on me like a hawk "Is this about.. is this about that night? The night we came back from hospital?" This time his voice had lowered, deep and careful

It was exactly about that, but I shook my head "No"

"There" He pointed as he took a step towards me "That's a lie"

I was staring at the lake, avoiding him at all costs as my arms crossed over my chest "No it isn't"

"Yes it is, you can't look at me" He took another slow step towards me "You crossed your arms over to protect yourself from fidgeting.."

I felt scrutinized, my every move monitored.

Shaking my head, I bravely made eye contact with him "Okay fine, yes, that night has crossed my mind more than once, but there are other things that have made an impact on my 'behavior' lately believe it on not" I had found my courage "We're both adults here Dawson, we both know that being here alone for this amount of time is going to make us feel, do and say things that we would not even consider thinking were we out in the real world"

"You think because we're out here this isn't the real world? Have you considered that this is the real world, and out there.. out there is the problem? You know, I never feel as clear minded anywhere else than I do right here.."

He had a point, and I was working hard to think of something to say in defense of his argument.

"That's you Dawson, not me, the last few days I haven't been able to think straight, I can't concentrate on anything, I feel like I'm going insane.. you get to talk to other people, you can focus on other things, you can make phone calls whenever you want, you can sleep comfortably at night knowing that if you step back out there, you won't have a damn target on your back.." My voice was rising, my temper surfacing

"You think I don't have a target on my back?" I could see my choice of words had triggered something within him, his hands on his hips "I have a target on my back every damn day because of what I do Jasmine, me being here, doing this, puts my life on the line just as much as it does yours, when they want to get to you, who do you think they're going to have to get through first?"

I knew that, he was right. Doing what he was doing could never be easy, every day Dawson put his life on the line, not just for me, but for others too. I threw my hands up "Here we are in the same damn boat and all we can do is sit on opposite sides from one another rowing in different directions"

"You're right, being here for this long with only me to talk to, it can't be easy for you.." He had begun to calm, much like I had. We were on the same side, yet here we were "I can't expect you to talk to me about everything you feel, but I want you to know that you can, this isn't just a job for me anymore.."

I wasn't sure exactly what he had meant by it. But if it hadn't just been a job, what else could it have been driving him to keep me safe? Was he feeling the emotions that I was feeling for him?

"Every time I begin to forget that you're a cop just doing his job, I feel.. I feel ridiculous to think that you would even care about what my favorite color is or what my dead dad I used to watch on TV together" I rushed out "We aren't buddies, we aren't here to make friends, so what's the point?"

"You're thinking way too much into it" He shook his head "Yes, we're here because I'm doing a job, I came here to make sure you survived to make it to trial, but it isn't like that anymore because we've gotten to know one another, I like that I know what you and your dad used to watch together, I want to know your favorite color, I care about who you are and what happens to you, who cares if the circumstances are this way, why should that matter if we've built something out of it?"

I looked out to the lake, understanding his perspective in an entirely new light. I was struggling to understand why he would want to know who I was, there was nothing extraordinary about me, there were hundreds of other people he could be friends with, why me?

"Okay" I nodded

"Okay?" He was unsure of my short response, so I looked back to him and sighed

"Okay, I see your point"

"You don't have to be afraid of.. of being close to someone, what was it you told me?" His arms dropped from his hips "Fearing losing someone is better than having no fear at all?"

He'd managed to pull a small smile from me, using my own line against me "Something like that.."

"We good?" He took a long stride towards me, his hand against my upper arm

I nodded, mentally agreeing that I needed to breath, relax, allow whatever it was between Dawson and I to form into whatever it was meant to be, good or bad.

"Good, now what are you making us for dinner?" He joked, a wide grin on his face as he returned to the deck, opening his computer back up on his lap.

The more time I had spent with Dawson, the more sides I began to see. To those on the outside, he was a mysterious man who avoided social events and personal discussions. He was firm and tough, an expression on his face that always appeared as though he was angry or deep in thought. Looking at Dawson from the inside, layers began to reveal that he was just another person like everyone else, like me, afraid of being important to someone in fear of it not working out. There were details of Dawson's life that he had revealed to me that he hadn't revealed to his own partner. He had trusted me and felt comfortable enough with me to tell me about his family, about his experiences and feelings, it was only natural that I felt a connection with him.

There was no denying that the air between Dawson and I had changed. The tension that I had felt brewing for the last two weeks had altered, and it no longer felt as though it was suffocating me. However, I had failed to address the obvious feelings that had been messing with my body over the last fortnight, the desire to have Dawson in a way that made me shiver. We had finally cleared the air, but that minute detail had been left untouched, and now more than ever, I had wanted to know, did he feel the same way that I did indefinitely?

Having heard my screams of discomfort for being locked in the house so long, Dawson had offered me an opportunity that I could not resist. A night out.

It was Friday night and despite the numerous movies on show via pay TV, we had dressed for a different occasion. 20 minutes west, in the opposite direction of our home city, was a bar/club. Dawson had been there twice as a teenager, sneaking in when he and his cousin failed to yield a believable enough fake ID.

I was excited for the excursion, but unfortunately, I'd had no other option than to dress in what little I had brought. Tossed into my emergency exit haul was one dress, the familiar dress I'd worn on the infamous night I'd unknowingly met Ben Tomasin. I felt nervous to be wearing something as fun while with Dawson, but I knew I needed to push past my insecurities, so I paired the dress with a pair of dark boots and denim jacket. Unable to change how mismatched I felt, I put less effort into my hair, setting it loose, curling naturally around my face, falling just below my shoulders.

When I appeared downstairs, I did my best not to stare at Dawson. He wore a pair of long dark chino's, a navy dress shirt pushed up at the elbows, the buttons on the neckline lower than they usually were. I had expected nothing nothing less than to see his gun on his belt, forever carrying it with him, but this time, it was gone.

"No gun?" I instantly asked, surprised

"Sorry" He chuckled "I'm not taking any chances" He untucked his shirt from his pants and lifted it to reveal the undergarments. He wore a white singlet and a tucked in black leather gun harness, his weapon secured just beneath his left armpit against his ribcage

I rolled my eyes "Of course"

"You ready to go or what?" He tucked his shirt back into place, the gun beneath it concealed well

I nodded and followed him to the car, eager for a night out, eager for a night of normalcy. It was just like being with Camille, only now I had Dawson. I wondered if he was going to allow me to drink, would he keep me sober, would he himself drink? Just how far down would he let his hair? Was I going to see Detective Dawson James dance? Questions rattled through my head as we drove through the early night towards the bar.

"I'm curious" I thought out loud

"Mmm" Dawson mumbled, wary

"On your fake ID, what was your name going to be? Or were you just going to change the age?"

The air lightened as he shook his head "Aaron Walker"

"Aaron Walker?" I repeated "Why that?"

"When I was seventeen, a good friend of mine, he died in a car accident, he was a bit of a troublemaker, he liked to party, drank a lot, he was a lot of fun, but looking back on it now he had quite a problem" Dawson began "He had a fake ID, his name on the fake ID was Aaron Walker, he got into every single bar, liquor store and club he flashed it to with that name" He remembered as he smiled.