It's been nearly three years, and Murphy still hasn't gotten over her. He's had girlfriends, he's had lovers, but he hasn't had Laura, and that's the one thing that's going to drive him crazy for the rest of his life. He's stopped blaming Steele, but that doesn't change the fact that he's still stupid in love with his ex-boss.

His life changes on a Sunday morning at half past too damn early when his phone rings. He thinks he should write this sort of thing down, be like some noir detective, but instead he just fumbles for the receiver and reminds himself to give up booze before bed when his voice rasps out a rough, "Hello?"

"Hey, Murph."

Her voice is like a jolt to his brain as well as a few other body parts. It takes him a minute to respond, to remember how to respond. He normally doesn't spend the time he talks to Laura in bed, and so he has to remember how to be normal when he's got a morning hard on in one hand and the woman he loves on the line in the other. He finally manages to make his brain work. "Hey."

"I know it's short notice, but how do you feel about visitors?"

"Depends on who it is." The thought of Steele in Denver does away with Murphy's hard on, and he sits up, rubbing his eyes and his forehead. "And when."

"Well, I think it's about a half hour ride from the airport."

"Laura? Are you in Denver?"

"You really are a detective, Murphy!" Laura's laugh is indescribable, except that it's good to hear. "So, what do you say? Should I meet you at your house or the agency?"

"It's Sunday, Laura. There's football in Denver." A half hour gives him time to shower and shave and get dressed. Maybe jerk off. "The house is fine. Have you eaten?"

"Nope. Boarded a plane early and here I am."

"Here you are?"

Laura's voice changes a little, but Murphy can't tell if it's annoyance or something else. "Yeah. Here I am, Murph. Just me. Can I come over or not?"

Definitely jerk off. "Yeah. I'll leave the front door unlocked."

It's just like old times, up to and including the part where Laura doesn't tell him anything about what's going on in her head. He knows how her mind works when it comes to a job, and he knows how it shuts down when her emotions are involved. Laura doesn't know how to deal with emotions; they confuse her because she can't get them into nice ordered patterns. She can't make sense of them, and that's why her life falls apart again and again whenever she falls in love.

She's been there four days and helped him solve two cases. She's camped out in his guest room and he shoves a pillow in his mouth each night as he jerks off, thinking about her in the next room. He can hear her breathing, he can hear her turn under the covers and he wants to shake the reason she's here out of her so he can get some peace. Whatever it is though, Laura is her typical self about it, keeping it inside and not letting anyone in. He's thought about booze and he's thought about chocolate, but Laura's also his friend, and he isn't going to hurt her to help her, no matter how strong the temptation.

The knock is so soft he's not completely certain that he heard one, but he still says, "Come in." Laura opens the door and she's standing there in an old Pittsburgh Steelers jersey that hangs at mid-thigh and has seen better days, the black nearly faded to light gray from so many washings. Murphy sits up and looks at her, watches her looking at him. He waits silently as she shifts from foot to foot, averting her eyes as she finally takes a step inside.

"Murphy?"

He doesn't move, isn't sure he can. She's closing the distance between them, and he wants to move over and make room for her in the bed, but this is Laura, so it's different. The normal rules don't apply. "Yeah." She sits on the edge of the bed and looks at him, her dark eyes haunted by whatever it is that's been keeping her tossing and turning, by whatever it is that brought her here in the first place. "You want to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure how." She looks down at her hands and he notices that her cuticles are a mess, her nails bitten down to the quick. "Can I just say you told me so?"

Murphy hates that relief floods through him because he's not supposed to feel that right now. He's supposed to hate Steele and whatever it is that he did to Laura. Hell, he's supposed to feel sympathy for Laura, but he's been saying 'I told you so' since the moment Steele first walked in their path. "You sure that's what you want to tell me?"

Laura looks up at him quickly, slightly surprised, and then she smiles, which is worth everything that not being an ass about this costs him. "I thought it was working, Murph. I really did."

"And it wasn't?"

"I should have know there would be something bigger than me, you know? I'm always going to be competing with his past, whatever it is, and now…well, now he's left me to try and figure it out. Emptied his closets and disappeared. I really didn't think he'd do that, Murphy. He wouldn't do that, would he?"

It kills him, how much she needs him to tell her a lie, how much he can't do it, not even for her. Especially not for her. "Not if he loved you, Laura."

Her face falls out of the smile into no expression at all, and Murphy feels worse than ever. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Not if he loved me."

"Hey. Laura." He reaches out to her and tugs her closer, enveloping her in a hug. It takes a long moment before she relents and lets him hold her, longer still to wrap her arms around him in return. She holds herself so rigid all the time that Murphy's almost unprepared for the moment she relaxes into him, her face buried against his neck and her hands fisted against his back. "Shh." He strokes her back, hands sliding up and down in long, slow arcs. Laura doesn't cry, probably won't let herself, but her breath shudders against him in the closest she'll probably allow.

"He didn't love me, Murph."

"He did, Laura." He reaches up and strokes her hair, closing his eyes as the thick, silky strands tangle around his fingers. "How could he not?"

"Not enough." She pulls back, but not away from his touch. "No one does. They all leave, Murphy. My dad. Wilson. Norman. You. Him."

"I didn't leave you, Laura. I left the agency. I left…I guess I left…you liked him. It was obvious. And I couldn't watch you fall in love with him. Not when I was already in love with you."

"Murphy…" Laura shakes her head, as always, never wanting to hear him, never wanting to believe. Of course, he knows better than anyone that it's always been because if he didn't say it, then she wouldn't have to say that she doesn't feel the same.

"It's okay, Laura. I know you don't love me."

"I do, Murph. Just not…"

"Trust me. I know. I'm Mike Connors to his Dex. I'm…"

"Murphy." Laura puts a finger to his lips to silence him. "No movies. Please."

He nods and closes his eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his lips and brushing against her finger. Laura shivers and Murphy knows he's about to do the stupidest thing in his life, but he can't help himself. It's Laura. He doesn't know how.

His hand curls around her wrist and eases her hand away from his mouth, turning it so his lips can brush her palm. He glances at her and she's watching him, her lips parted slightly. It's all the encouragement he needs as he paints a kiss across her wrist and then pulls her closer. "Laura."

She doesn't have a chance to answer before he's kissing her, tasting the warmth of her breath as she gasps. Her mouth fits to his, and he wants to say that it's perfect, but he's too busy kissing her, and this time she's kissing him back. He never thinks about that ill-fated kiss that Steele walked in on, but he can't help it now as Laura makes a soft noise and her tongue presses against his lips, working its way into his mouth.

He's pretty much powerless to stop at this point, guiding Laura onto her back on the mattress and stretching out beside her, one hand curled around the back of her neck, tangled in her hair, as the other braces against the bed, holding himself over her. She's all wide eyes and parted lips, and he knows she's done this before, but it still feels so new, like dangerous, unmapped territory. He wants to tell her to stop it, because his heart can't take this, but telling her to make it stop might actually stop it and then he'd be all out of chances. Murphy's admitted defeat far too many times when it comes to Laura. He doesn't think he can do it again.

"Laura." He kisses her, her name trapped between them. She groans into his mouth and her hand grazes his stubbled jaw as she reaches up for him. He goes down against her, bodies together as they kiss, one leg insinuating between both of hers as he shifts, feeling the pressure of her thigh against his erection. "God, Laura."

"Murph." She shakes her head, and maybe she needs the quiet, but he needs to hear her, needs to know it's real. He kisses her again and stops her from telling him not to talk, tastes the hum of words that always seem to bubble beneath the surface. He doesn't say another word, but Laura's vocal in all the ways he needs, moaning and gasping and whimpering and growling as they move together, learning the planes and curves of each other's bodies as they touch and kiss, as her shirt rises up to expose the slope of her breasts, the high points of her nipples.

His mouth finds the first one, capturing it as she arches off the bed. There's a slow noise from deep in her throat as he takes it between his teeth and teases it, tongue sliding across the flat peak while his teeth grind gently at the hardened flesh. He wonders how long it's been since someone's had Laura like this, sprawled out and gasping, opening up to him as she grinds up against his thigh. He moves to the other breast, letting the weight of it rest against his mouth before tasting it, breathing on her pale, freckled skin. "God, you're gorgeous, Laura."

The blush heats her body even more, flushing that same skin a delicate pink. Murphy laughs against her breast and she laughs as well, the rumble of the sound reverberating on her flesh. "Shut up, Murph."

"Yes, ma'am." He moves down her body, fingers skating over her skin until he reaches the soft cotton of her panties. Laura's not the fancy lingerie type, more serviceable and cute, so the pink fabric is exactly what he expects, somehow perfect under the black of the Steelers jersey. She laughs, ticklish, as he skims her sides, but she still arches up as he guides the material down her thighs. "Find something better to do with my mouth."

Laura groans before he even touches her, and the sound mutes as he nudges his way between her legs and finds her wet flesh. Her thighs close around him and he imagines it's probably part of Laura's innate shyness in personal matters that prompts it rather than anything else. He doesn't care though, because she is wet, and that's all for him, because of him and no one else.

He tries to notice Laura's reactions, tries to memorize everything, but all he can focus on is the hot taste of her, the wet, silky slide against his tongue. He tries to explore as much as he can, but soon Laura's hands are in his hair, tugging at him, pulling him up so that he can hear her demanding more, wanting him, wanting him now.

Murphy's happy to oblige, fumbling for a condom and sliding it on. Laura's propped on his pillows and naked, having tossed her shirt at some point he doesn't recall. Her hair is a mess, disheveled and it's almost unnatural to see her like this. He shakes his head, leaning in to kiss her as he guides himself against her, pressing in as she bites his lower lip, reminding him with sharp teeth that this isn't another fantasy.

Laura's legs go around his thighs as she arches up to meet his downward thrust. They worked together too long not to know each other's rhythms, and sex isn't so different from detective work. You rely on the other person to pick up your cues, watch your back. Laura's always been a partner, giving and taking as the case demanded, and she's the same in bed, aggressive and shy both as they touch and feel their way through unexplored territory. Laura's had men and Murphy's had women, but they've never had each other, and Murphy wants it to last longer than it does.

He comes inside her and she's panting roughly beneath him, damp with perspiration. Her eyes are half-closed and her chest rises rapidly to meet his. Reaching out, he pushes strands of her hair back out of her face. He can see the emotions she's too tired and too upset to hide, even though he doesn't want to see them. He's too good of a detective himself not to notice. "Hey."

Laura looks at him, tears glistening in the dim light of his lamp, lashes dark. "Murphy."

"Don't." He kisses her, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment for as long as he can. She breathes shakily when he pulls away just far enough to drop another kiss on her nose. "Don't talk, remember?"

She nods and leans into him for another kiss, which he's more than happy to give. She stays silent as he pulls away, disposing of the condom and sitting on the side of the bed, glancing down at her. He reaches out, tracing a line of freckles from her shoulder to the curve of her breast. "Murph."

"You'll get over him, Laura."

"Like you got over me?"

Murphy laughs self-consciously and shrugs. "If you're lucky." He pulls the covers up around her and tucks her in before standing up and grabbing a pair of sweats. He tugs them on then leans over and kisses her forehead lightly. "Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"I can't kick you out of your bed, Murphy."

Murphy offers her a smile that hurts more than he likes to admit. "Yeah, well…I can't get used to you being in it." He heads to the door, telling himself just to keep his mouth shut, but in the end, he knows he can't leave her hurting too. "You know, Laura, if he's looking for his past, he might need help. He's not actually a detective."

"You think…"

Murphy doesn't nod. He doesn't need to. Laura's smart, and he's already given her all the answer she needs.