Kevin glances up at the knock on his office door, expecting Carol or one of his siblings. Instead, he finds himself staring open-mouthed at a bad suit draped over a too-lanky frame. He recognizes the suit from the last time he saw it, when it fit the man in front of him better, though even being draped over Tim Bayliss's body didn't do a damn thing to improve the suit itself.

"Do you have a minute?" Tim's voice has changed, deepened, mellowed. Gone is the jitter of hope and belief that Kevin remembers. It's replaced by something harder, something that doesn't hold that naiveté that led Bayliss through case after case of 'what' and 'who' to find the 'why'.

"Tim." Kevin stands up, surprised to feel the tremors that run through him. It's been a long time since Kevin's seen Tim Bayliss and almost as long since he's thought about him, since he long ago gave up on 'what might have beens'. It's not a question, because there's no one other than Tim Bayliss that could be that tall, that angular, that big and still seem like a puppy on the verge of being kicked. "What brings you here?"

"Believe it or not-" Tim taps the name on the door of Kevin's office. "You."

"Me? You're in desperate need of a contract lawyer?"

"Something like that." There's a hint of laughter in Tim's voice, and Kevin's sure he doesn't know what the story is, probably couldn't imagine it if he tried. "Do you? Have a minute?"

"I might even be able to do better than that." Kevin shifts the papers on his desk and stacks them neatly in piles as Tim stands, obviously uncomfortable, in the doorway. "Give me five minutes? Have a seat."

He angles in, all appendages that seem to stick out too far and settles on one of the leather chairs in the office, his legs stretched out awkwardly. Kevin makes a couple of calls and clears his calendar for the rest of the day, casting careful glances at Tim as he does. Tim flips through magazines as though they contain information he's actually interested in, though what he could find compelling about them, Kevin can't even guess. He subscribes to them, and he doesn't find them interesting in the slightest.

"So, how about lunch? And I've got the rest of the day free."

"Are lawyers allowed to even say the word free?" Tim stands up and brushes at his suit, doing nothing more than making the wrinkles worse. "I would think that's against the code of ethics or something."

"Some would argue if lawyers have a code of ethics." Kevin grins and grabs his jacket, slipping it on. "C'mon. I'll treat you to lunch and then we'll…I don't know. Make it up as we go along."

They talk during lunch about Kevin's life, and it doesn't take Kevin long to realize Tim's very deliberately avoiding his own. Kevin asks a few questions and lets Bayliss deflect them for a while, not pushing when he doesn't explain what the rest of the Homicide squad is up to these days. Finally, over coffee, he stops talking, watching Tim watch him with a cop's eyes. "Why did you want to see me, Tim?"

"I can't fly all the way across the country to visit an old friend? Air fare's pretty cheap these days."

"We were never really friends, Bayliss." Something like hurt flashes across Tim's face, and Kevin regrets the words immediately. "It's hard to be friends when there's more there."

The hints of Tim's frown disappear and he actually smiles, and suddenly Kevin can see the man he used to know in the person in front of him. "I really screwed us up, huh? I mean, one night is actually a record for me for blowing things. I mean…" He laughs and shakes his head. "Double entendres were always a danger with you."

Kevin smiles back, tilting his head to look at Tim seriously. "What happened, Tim?"

"I shot a man just to watch him die."

Kevin recognizes the lyric, but there's something else in Tim's voice. He's telling a story that he's not sure if Kevin wants to hear, or maybe if he even wants to tell it. Kevin thinks about the times he watched Tim and Frank in the Box, weaving like cobras at a snake charmer's command, teasing the truth from a suspect. Tim's the suspect now, trying to find a way to tell the truth and not implicate himself in the crime.

"I don't believe you." Kevin takes a sip of his coffee and lowers the cup as Tim watches him, brow furrowing again. "Not that you shot a man. I believe you did that. You're a cop."

"No." Bayliss shakes his head. "No. No, I'm not."

Kevin leans back in his seat and looks at Tim for a long moment. "You want to go back to my place?"

Tim laughs, his wide smile making the lines around his mouth and eyes appear. His lashes are too long, reminding Kevin of Snuffalupagus from Sesame Street, hanging down onto his cheeks, Tim's only successful means for shielding away his emotions. "I'm sorry. I never thought I'd hear you ask me that."

"This seemed like a conversation that might call for a little more privacy."

"You're not trying to get into my pants again, are you, Walker?"

Kevin almost chokes on his coffee, and he spends far too long straightening his tie before he looks up at Tim. "Can I refuse to answer on the grounds it might incriminate me?"

"Only people who aren't telling the truth say that, you know."

"No, Tim. You just only hang around with guys who don't tell the truth."

"You have no idea, Kevin," Tim assures him as he watches Kevin call for the check. "No idea at all."

"So." Kevin sets a beer down in front of Bayliss then stretches his legs out in front of him as he settles in the chair opposite him. "You flew all the way out here from Baltimore to talk to me?"

"Well, that and to interview for a job." Tim sits forward, elbows on his knees and wraps his long fingers around the neck of the beer. Kevin shivers slightly, trying to suppress the motion as he remembers the feel of those fingers. Tim's not looking at him though, his eyes focused on the rim of the bottle as he licks his lips and then lifts it to his mouth, closing his eyes before taking a long swallow. "I actually got an offer some years ago. Thought about taking it then, looking you up, but I decided to stay with Homicide."

"You'll hate California."

"Will I?" He tilts his head as he asks the question then shakes it, getting up to go look outside Kevin's window at the view at the city spread out below them. "No bitter, biting cold. No one who knows me…present company excluded. No history. No past."

"Past stays with you no matter where you go, Tim." Kevin gets to his feet and moves over beside him, lifting his hand carefully to touch the slope of Tim's shoulder blade. He's careful, as if Tim's a wild animal that might bolt at any moment, and something about the too-thin and distended-seeming limbs just enhances the impression. He presses just his fingertips and then his palm against the rough blend of the suit, letting the heat sink through to the shirt underneath, to Tim's skin. "What happened?"

Tim turns his head and looks at Kevin for a long time, not blinking. Kevin doesn't move, doesn't look away. "I already told you."

"No, you didn't. You teased me, Tim."

"Is that what I did?" Tim turns and faces Kevin fully, and Kevin has to tilt his head back slightly to keep his gaze on Tim's. "Teased you?"

The air is thicker than the LA smog stealing the sun away from them, harder to breathe than the smoke from the fires fueled by the Santa Ana winds. "Why are you here, Tim?"

Tim's voice is thick. "Not for this."

Kevin's surprised how hard those three words hit, like physical blows, like gunshots. "No?" He's not sure how his voice sounds to Tim, distorted as it is in his own ears.

Tim's mouth curves in the hint of a smile and he shakes his head, leaning in to press that same smile to Kevin's mouth. "No. Not at all."

Kevin rests his head on his hand, his elbow digging into the pillow next to Tim's head. Tim's eyes are closed, but he's not really resting and certainly not at peace. Kevin reaches out and brushes his finger over Tim's cheek, tracing the feathered edge of his eyelashes. "Who was he?"

"A bad guy." Tim's voice is soft, and Kevin can imagine him leaning over a suspect, playing the good guy, the good cop or maybe just with his voice pitched that dangerously low to make sure the guy was listening. "But he got away."

"He got away?"

"For a little while." Tim exhales softly, the breath dancing against Kevin's palm as he continues tracing Tim's features. "Do you believe in confession?"

"I'm a lawyer." Kevin can hear the hint of laughter in his voice and can tell from his smile that Tim does too. "Confession makes it easier." He moves his finger down to Tim's lower lip. "Do you want to confess, Tim?"

"I already did." Tim's eyes open and he stares up at Kevin. Kevin tries to identify all the emotions in his eyes, but stops as they careen and collide like bumper cars, refusing to let Kevin figure them out and sort them. "Did the crime. Did the time."

"Oh, Tim." Kevin leans in, unable to help himself, to stop from kissing him. It's an instinct, some gut-level feeling that needs to express itself in the soft slide of lips, the tease of tongues as Tim opens his mouth under Kevin's. It's not much as far as kisses go, but when he pulls back, Kevin doesn't pull quite as far away. "How long?"

"Eight to ten years, out in four for good behavior. Most of it in solitary to keep me away from the guys I put there. Hard-line judge and tough jury and this annoying habit I have of telling the truth. Plus, you know, a confession. Signed, sealed and delivered."

"But he was a bad guy." It's not a question - not of Tim's assessment of the character of his victim, not of the jury's lack of understanding. It's just a statement of fact, and Kevin's not sure if it's for himself or for Tim.

"Bad guys are people too. Rights and privileges and all of that." Tim shrugs slightly and then turns his head to look at Kevin. "I just didn't care. I got…tired. Tired of people who didn't deserve to die dying for someone else's pleasure, for someone else's passion. I got tired of girls and guys bleeding their lives out on the streets, in their apartments. I got tired of seeing dead eyes staring up at me and knowing that they should have had a life, you know? A full life filled with love and sex and discovery and opportunity instead of ending up the prize in some sicko's game."

"I can't imagine doing what you do."

"Ah-ah." Tim shakes his head as he reaches up to trace the frown line in Kevin's forehead. "What I did." He sighs and lets his finger run down Kevin's cheek, along his jaw. "So I'm here to interview for a job, fresh out of prison and with a dubious list of references to my name."

"Is that why you came to see me?" Kevin closes his eyes, both to enjoy the sheer sensation of Tim's fingers on his skin and because he's not sure he wants to see the truth if that's what it is. "A local attorney who would be willing to be a reference for you?"

"Well, the thought did cross my mind, I have to be honest." Tim lets his finger slide down along Kevin's throat, over the slope of his Adam's apple to the hollow at the base, the hint of perspiration there. "Of course, being honest is what got me into this mess, so maybe I should just tell you I wanted to see you again."

"And that's not being honest?" Kevin laughs softly, though he's not sure he appreciates the humor.

"It is." Tim's voice assumes that quiet tone again, the one that Kevin knows is all business. "I just wasn't sure you'd want to see me. I mean, it's not every day some semi-heterosexual guy from your past shows up at your door with his figurative baggage at his feet."

"You don't know my life."

"Are you going to participate in a life history competition with me, Walker?" Tim runs his finger along Kevin's collarbone and Kevin can feel his body starting to respond again. It's been a long time since he's been with anyone, though not as long as it's obviously been for Tim, assuming he didn't get out of prison and hit every brothel and hooker in Baltimore. "Because I could tell you stories."

"I bet you could." Kevin shifts closer, letting his cock rest against Tim's thigh, feeling it harden further. "Did you really come to see me, Bayliss?"

"They have jobs on the east coast, Kevin." Tim's hand shifts directions, no longer sliding down Kevin's body, but moving up to curve around the back of his head, to pull Kevin closer. "None that I'm actually qualified for, but they do exist." He smiles and the man Kevin used to know is there, hiding beneath the distance layered on for protection. Kevin can feel Tim's blood pumping, feel his heart pounding beneath Kevin's palm, knows whatever is beneath all of it is still there. "And as much as I might hope to meet a Hollywood starlet…"

"Shut up, Tim." Kevin leans in and kisses him, taking his time. There's none of the frantic rush that they'd managed their first time ever and the first time today. Instead, it's a slow, building hunger that manifests in the quick nip of Tim's teeth on Kevin's lower lip, the heavy suction of his mouth around Tim's tongue. It's a give and take that's echoed in their bodies as Tim eases Kevin on top of him, their cocks aligned next to each other as they move slowly, working their way up to a thrust.

At some point they stop kissing, their mouths open against one another's, their breath panting between them. Kevin's lightheaded from only inhaling what escapes Tim's mouth, but he can't pull away, even if he wanted to. Tim's hands are everywhere, roaming over Kevin's shoulders and down his back, curving over Kevin's ass and stroking the back of Kevin's thighs. Kevin moves against him on instinct, thrusting against the damp, silky hairs of Tim's abdomen, sliding along the heated velvet of Tim's cock.

"Kevin." Tim groans his name, arching off the bed so that his body grinds hard against Kevin's. Kevin echoes the sound and steals what little breath they have left, closing his mouth on Tim's. The kiss grows as frantic as their bodies as they collide together until Kevin forces himself away, bracing himself over Tim and panting roughly.

"I want…"

Tim nods before Kevin can finish, leaning up to kiss him again. Kevin pulls away, straddling Tim's knees, his hands resting on the tops of Tim's thighs to steady himself. Kevin leans forward, resting one hand on the top of his nightstand as he opens the drawer. He pulls out the lube and condoms and looks back, surprised as Tim touches his shoulder. "Wait."

"Wait." Kevin nods, swallowing the sudden flare up of feeling that clogs his throat. He shifts, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand curved around the tube of lube as Tim sits up as well, his thigh rough and warm against Kevin's.

Tim reaches over and takes the lube from Kevin's hand, setting it on the nightstand. His eyes are dark, dangerous and, for the first time, Kevin can see that he killed a man, that he's not the nice, bumbling Columbo-esque figure he sometimes appears to be. Tim slides off the bed and onto his knees, turning and spreading Kevin's legs apart. "Wait."

Kevin's lips part and his tongue darts out to wet them as Tim slides his hands up Kevin's thighs, fingers stirring the dark hair as they work their way up to the curve of Kevin's hips. Tim turns his head, scraping his teeth against Kevin's skin as he nips the soft, inner thigh. Kevin's breath hitches in his chest and he reaches out, threading his fingers through Tim's hair. It's short now, cut close to Tim's skull, and Kevin feels the ridges and bumps of it beneath his hands, focusing on the curve of bone to distract himself from the heady sensation of Tim's lips and teeth as they move toward the swell of Kevin's cock.

Kevin watches, breathing heavier as Tim's mouth draws closer. He groans low in his throat as Tim's teeth scrape the curve of his balls before he opens his mouth and takes them between his lips, sucking on them until they're heavy, weighted down between Kevin's legs and he's groaning from the heat and pressure of Tim's tongue. Tim finally pulls back, panting roughly against Kevin's skin, causing him to shiver as Tim looks up, whatever had been dangerous gone out of his eyes and leaving nothing but a slight awkwardness. He leans in and licks the base of Kevin's cock carefully before sliding his tongue along the length of it.

"T-Tim." Kevin falls back, his throat exposed and his arms splayed wide for support, as his hands fist in the comforter. He can feel Tim's eyes on him, feel them burning his already overheated skin as Tim takes him in his mouth, tongue sliding along the pulsing vein on the underside of Kevin's cock. "God."

"Mmmm." Tim's mouth vibrates around him and Kevin's whole body shudders at the sensation. He opens his eyes and watches as Tim moves, tentatively at first and then finding his rhythm, taking his time to learn the curves of Kevin's body. Tim's hands slide along Kevin's thighs, moving in unison with his mouth. His fingers tighten as the suction around Kevin's cock does, his nails scraping when his teeth graze the base of Kevin's cock. Kevin shudders from the sensations, feeling the hard jerk of his pulse as Tim sucks harder, holding Kevin's shaft tight between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

"T-Tim." Kevin groans again and slumps back to the bed, his hips arching off the bed as Tim slides his hands beneath Kevin's thighs, opening his body up more, pushing closer as he takes Kevin deeper. Kevin's body jerks, thrusting upward as he comes, spilling in Tim's mouth and shuddering through the hard suction as Tim swallows him down.

"Kevin." Tim's voice is rough as he straightens, leaning into Kevin, one knee on the edge of the bed. His cock is hard, painting wetness on Kevin's stomach as he kisses him, his mouth hot and tasting of Kevin, his tongue aggressive and insistent as it plunders Kevin's mouth. Kevin opens himself to Tim, wanting him, wanting more as Tim's weight shifts above him, as Tim lowers himself to one elbow so he can reach back to the nightstand. "Want you."

Kevin's not sure if he says anything or just nods frantically, shifting so that his heels are on the edge of the bed, so that his body is open for Tim. Tim smiles that blinding yet shy smile and angles back, letting Kevin follow the action through the sounds - condom wrapper and the slap of latex, the hissing slide of skin and lubricant, the soft groan as Tim strokes his own cock to get himself ready. Kevin feels beyond ready, needing Tim inside him, but he still groans at the pressure of Tim's fingers, groans at the slick penetration that seems to fill him up as it stretches him, opening him. Kevin bites his lower lip as Tim's fingers push deeper, sliding and stroking inside him. His hips rock upward, his body thrusting down against Tim's hand, tight around his fingers as he slowly works another one inside Kevin.

"Please." Kevin doesn't recognize his own voice, doesn't recognize the need he can hear, hanging in the air between them. Bayliss seems to recognize it, though as he removes his hand and replaces it with the tip of his cock, slowly thrusting against Kevin until he eases past the still-tight muscle and pushes deep. Kevin's not sure who the groan comes from, or who shudders, though the sounds echo through both of them, mouths and bodies pressed together as Tim slides into him, filling him. They don't move for a long moment and Kevin watches Tim, watches the shiver of his eyelashes on his cheek, watches the skin of his lips separate as he exhales. Kevin whispers this time, not sure he trusts his voice. "Please, Tim."

The movement is hard and sudden and Tim's fingers catch Kevin's hair as they press down onto the mattress, tangling in the covers. He tugs at the strands, Kevin's head falling back further, and Tim takes the invitation, his mouth feasting on Kevin's throat. Tim begins to move in earnest, knees digging into the back of Kevin's thighs, grinding against the curve of his ass as he thrusts, pushing into Kevin as Kevin rakes his fingers down Tim's back. He cups his hands around Tim's ass and pulls him deeper still until all Tim can do is bury his orgasm inside Kevin over and over, riding out the aftershocks until he comes to a gasping stop.

They lay in a tangled heap of limbs and sweat, neither of them particularly inclined to move. Tim's breath is hot on Kevin's rapidly cooling skin and somewhere outside the window the distant song of LA's evening commute provides background music. Kevin gasps when Tim does finally ease free, shivering in the coldness of his absence as Tim finds his way to the bathroom and shuts the door. Kevin sits up on the bed, pushing the rumpled covers back to the edge of the mattress before tugging the sheet up to his hips. Tim comes back out, naked and far sexier than Kevin thinks he should have a right to be.

"You want pizza?"

Tim's lower lip slides out in thought and then he nods. "Sure. Pizza sounds good."

They don't make it to the couch, despite their best intentions. Kevin manages a pair of sweat pants when he goes to pay and snags a few paper towels on his way back to the bed, discarding his clothes before climbing back beneath the covers with Tim. It feels decadent and impulsive, which doesn't seem to sit right on either of them, but they both lean back against the pillows regardless, and drip grease and sauce onto their skin, taking turns licking it away until the pizza's shoved onto the floor and they're kissing again, fingers slick and sticky as they explore each other.

Tim groans finally, breaking away from Kevin's kiss and begging for mercy. Kevin laughs, still touching him as Tim leans over to rescue the pizza from the floor and pull long strings of cheese off the cardboard top and wind them around his finger. "I missed pizza. And grilled cheese. And Chinese. I spent the first week out eating at every place I could find. Gorged myself sick."

"You look like you could still use a few meals." Kevin traces the ghost of a rib through Tim's skin. Tim doesn't say anything, but his eyes are on Kevin when Kevin looks up at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

Kevin rolls his eyes and settles his head on Tim's chest, fingers still roaming lightly over his skin. "When's your interview?"

Tim sighs, his whole body moving with the effort, and Kevin moves with him. "Three hours ago."

Kevin bites his lip to keep from saying anything, trying to ignore the stiffening of Tim's body underneath him as he waits for a reprimand. "There really was an interview?"

"Yeah." Tim's voice is soft, distant, and Kevin knows that, wherever he is, he's not in Kevin's bedroom anymore. Maybe back in a cell, maybe back in Baltimore, maybe back somewhere Kevin doesn't know about. "When you're in there, you think about all the things you never did. I mean, you think about what you did too, but you…I knew what I did and why. It wasn't a moment of passion. It was a build-up of everything. Frank always said I took everything too personally."

"Frank." Kevin remembers Pembleton, remembers the way that Tim used to look at his partner. Whatever Tim did, what Frank did in response mattered more to Tim than what anyone else might do. If Pembleton understood, then Tim wouldn't care about prison or punishment. Frank would have his back. "Frank was maybe right."

"Yeah." Tim covers Kevin's hand with his own, holding Kevin's palm flat against his stomach. "Frank was always right. Anyway." He clears his throat and shakes his head just a bit. "I started thinking about things I didn't do. And I thought about you."

"And the job interview was a good enough excuse?"

"The job interview kept me from losing my nerve." Tim closes his eyes and Kevin watches him again, wondering how innocence stayed etched on his features, wondering how Bayliss managed to survive any of it at all without losing his soul somewhere along the way. "You mind if I sleep here tonight?"

Kevin shakes his head though Tim isn't looking. "No. Stay as long as you need."

Tim's gone in the morning before Kevin wakes. There's no sign he was there beyond the dark mark at the base of Kevin's throat and the used condom in the trashcan, the droplets of water still ringing the shower. Tim mentioned his hotel in passing, but Kevin knows it's not even worth it to look.