A/N. I should be working on my Bones fic, but this one sort of jumped out and started waving wildly at me. It's a little piece of drabble, I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.

Xox ~CF.

Set immediately after s2e4 "Age Before Beauty".

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Myka didn't know what she was doing leaning in the doorway of Pete's bedroom. She guessed that she needed to reassure herself after the chaos of the past few days. Pete was lying on his bed, a pile of comic books to his side, one on his chest, and his arm over his eyes. His eyes... the look in his eyes as she was beginning to give Artie her farewell speech. Fear, hopelessness and utter determination. She had worn that look once, when Sam was shot and there was nothing she could do. Claudia had told her how Pete could have easily beaten that photographer to a pulp. She was touched. Pete could be impulsive and rash, but he was a good man and a good partner. And his sincerity in New York, even surrounded by all those models was unmistakable. He had been very focused... on her. Part of her wondered why. The other part knew. His refusal to talk about 'that conversation' earlier had proved it.

Pete had known the instant the Myka stepped into his doorway, and stopped. He was exhausted. But she was safe, and still Myka. Stunning, beautiful Myka. He hadn't really meant to tell her what he'd thought of her backstage, but she had taken his breath away. Again. She did that a lot. He was feeling pretty embarrassed about that conversation, but he was also glad that he'd managed to say it out loud. Especially since he had nearly lost her for real this time. He was a man of action. He did. And this time he couldn't, really. Artie did the doing. He just was. And Myka still hadn't moved or said anything. He lifted the back of his wrist from shielding his eyes and looked at her. She was still shaken, he got that, but there was something else... he couldn't place it. Silently, he moved the pile of comic books to the floor where they landed with a gentle thunk, and patted the space next to him on the bed, not really expecting anything of it. He blinked in surprise when she started moving.

Myka hadn't actually realised she had padded across the bedroom floor until she was climbing onto Pete's bed. Mercifully, he had chosen to forgo the wisecracks this time. Not looking him in the eye, Myka curled up next to Pete and put her head on his chest, an ear over his heart. She could tell he hadn't been expecting that – his heart was racing – but she found herself able to relax. She just wanted to listen. To be certain that everything was alright.

Pete was taken aback by Myka's un-Mykarish behaviour. But when he thought about it, it did make a little sense. Maybe she's just letting a wall down, for a while. He'd felt her smile when she heard his heart hammering his surprise, but she had relaxed along with his heartbeat. Not able to do much else, he put one arm around her shoulder and resumed reading his comic, holding it in his free hand. Things feel... right. It was only once he'd finished the comic that Pete realised he'd been effectively pinned to the bed, and he really didn't want to wake her. Myka hadn't moved and was sleeping soundly. Pete admitted to himself that he was actually comfortable, and closed his eyes.


Artie shut the door to Leena's Bed & Breakfast with a frazzled sigh. His conversation with Claudia had been awkward, but successful. Todd seemed like a nice boy and Claudia did need to socialize with people her own age. He walked into the kitchen to find Leena standing against the counter, a faraway look in her eyes and a small smile on her lips.


She blinked and refocused on him, the smile remained. "Yes Artie?"

"Where's Myka? Is she alright? She should be resting."

"She is."

"She is?" Artie was surprised.

"I should close the doors anyway." Leena said enigmatically. "Come with me."

Artie trudged up the stairs behind Leena, and followed her gaze into Pete's room. His two agents were sound asleep. Myka was curled up beside Pete, her head on his chest. Pete had one arm draped around her shoulders, one on his chest, and his cheek resting on the top of her head. Artie regarded the scene silently before leaning through the doorway to switch the light off. Leena closed the door slightly and nodded.

"They are content."

"But nothing's happened."

"Nothing like that. There's been a significant shift in their underlying attitudes towards each other, but they are fine."

Artie nodded. "It's been a long day."

Leena. "It sounds like it."