It’s favor for a friend. That’s all it is. That’s all it’s supposed to be.

 Horatio needs help, help from someone he trusts. Alexx is hesitant, but in the end she can’t say no. Horatio has always been there for her over the years. She can’t let petty personal issues get in the way of a friendship.

 Besides, it’s supposed to be simple. Go to Miami, complete the autopsy, and then fly back to San Diego. Easy come, easy go.

 So she says yes.

She doesn’t count on Calleigh asking her to go for just one drink. Begging her to stay and visit for one night. She expected that her friendships from Miami would have faded with her year away, but as Calleigh looks at her with those hopeful eyes, Alexx knows nothing could change her feelings for these people.  

So she says yes.  

She finds herself lingering, smiling as the group recalls anecdotes and cases that had happened after she left. She listens as everyone eagerly tries to fill her in on the highlights of their year and the rest of table takes great care in correcting every last detail. Eventually, there are no stories left and people start to wander home.  

Before she knows it, it’s just her and Ryan sitting in the corner booth. Despite the ample room, they’re both still in the middle, legs pressed together beneath the table. She didn’t think about it much when they were surrounded by people, conversation, and noise. Now that it’s just the two of them, that knee brushing hers is all she can think about.

Suddenly she’s back to before and all too aware of why she left – why she ran away. Apparently, none of her feelings for Miami have changed.

There’s an electric charge in the air and Alexx finds her herself aware of every small move Ryan makes beside her. Her heart skips a beat as his fingers brush against her. Thoughts are racing through her head – Henry back in San Diego is first and foremost in her mind – but Ryan is smiling that small, special grin, the one that he only gives to her and she’s broken. He offers her a ride and her non-existent resolve doesn’t make a peep.   

So she says yes.  

They hold hands on the walk to the car. The act is almost innocent in nature; no one gives them a second glance. She feels as if there should be more guilt, as if her betrayal should be in flashing neon above them as they trek through the parking lot. She tries to feel bad, knows she should feel bad but nothing about this feels dirty.  

There’s no impatient gropes, no tearing at clothing or impassioned kisses. Ryan is behaving like the perfect gentleman as if this is some facsimile of a date.  

And maybe you want it to be, a tiny voice whispers as they enter the elevator. They untwine their hands as one of Ryan’s neighbors joins them. Alexx’s conscience finally agrees to play along and she finds that she can’t look the older gentleman in the eye. Instead, she stares resolutely at the highlighted numbers, her mind slightly distracted by Ryan’s fingers ghosting across the small of her back.  

Wordlessly, she follows him into his apartment. They stand in the same position they did nearly a year a before (Was it a year? It feels like yesterday.) and once again, Alexx finds herself lost in those hazel eyes. His hands slip around her waist, strong, assured, patient. He leans down, stopping short of her lips. “Are you sure?”  

She knows she should be thinking of her family, of sweet, dependable Henry. But she’s lost in the sensation of his arms. She can smell the slight chemical scent of lab, masked by sweat and cologne. She can feel the desirewantneed rolling off of Ryan and can’t stop her body from reciprocating.   

So she says yes.   

That’s all he needs and his mouth is crashing down on hers. There’s no rush, just a steady, intense wave that’s building between them. He worships her with his hands and mouth and her body responds to the reverence. They finish together, shouts muffled by his mouth pressed against hers in desperation.  

As they lay in a sweaty pile of limbs, reality finally sinks in. The guilt finally comes out of hiding. Her stomach churns and she’s horrified by her actions. Her mind begins racing, what have I done repeating like a soundtrack to her thoughts. Beside her, Ryan’s breathing evens out, post-coital slumber claiming him.  

She slips out of the bed, her face burning with shame as she puts her clothing back on. She finds her phone in her purse, thrown carelessly on the coffee table. Sinking onto to couch, she flips the phone open. ‘One New Message’ blinks at her from the screen. Taking a deep breath, she pushes the ‘call voicemail’ button. After a few moments, Henry’s – caring, loving Henry – voice filters through. 

“Hey, honey. I wasn’t surprised you didn’t pick up. Didn’t I tell you those kids would drag you out to reminisce? Don’t worry about calling me back, just have fun and call me before you board your plane tomorrow. I’ll pick you up from the airport. Love you.”  

Don’t worry about calling me back, just have fun. Love you. She thinks over the last few hours, observing herself, her actions. She thinks of Henry, sleeping soundly in their bed in San Diego, so absolutely sure that she’s doing the same in a hotel that he doesn’t even think to question it. She thinks of her children, the example she always tried to be for them and the type of house she always strived to raise them in. She thinks of her family the way she should have before she fell into Ryan’s arms and bed.

 She hates Henry for trusting her so implicitly. She hates Ryan for having feelings for her. She hates that she wasn’t strong enough to say no. But mostly she hates herself for what she’s done. The tears begin to slip out, one by one, on their own accord.  

Ryan comes up behind her, confusion on his young (young, so very young) face. “Is something wrong, Alexx?”   

And she says yes.