Driving home, he couldn't stop his thought from drifting back to her. "You just couldn't love me." It echoed in his head, an incessant taunt crumbling his highly cultivated bravado.

He wrenched the knob on the radio and blasted music into the car. The bass was maxed out and the car pulsed around him. For a moment, he thought the jarring noise had pushed her out of his head. Just as quickly, he realized the death grip he had on the steering wheel.

Disgust washed over him. Get it together, he thought as he relaxed his hands. Fishing in his pockets he yanked a prescription bottle out. Unconsciously he shook it. He thumbed the cap off and tossed the top on the seat next to him. The shake gave him an idea of what was left. Three possibly four pills, he thought. Meaning to take every last one of them, he tipped the bottle into his mouth. Chucking the empty bottle on the seat, he counted the pills with his tongue three…. Grimacing he swallowed the half dissolved pills.

Just knowing the drugs would wash away this neurotic episode; he slowed the car down from its frenzied drive through the city. He was no law-abiding citizen when he drove but even he had to admit how reckless he was driving.

As the light turned red, he looked around not recognizing the area. Large trees bracketed the dark street. The corner had a streetlight but it barely made a dent in the darkness as it filtered through the thick leaves. It was residential but certainly not his residents. A glance at the clock on his dash showed he turned a ten-minute drive home into an hour-long jaunt to…. Where?

Red turned to green but he just sat there trying to get his bearings. The street was deserted so nobody was having an aneurysm waiting for him to put it in gear. It wouldn't mattered if there was, he'd move when he damn well felt like it and no sooner. That thought further calmed him feeling more like himself all of a sudden.

Inching forward, he read the street sign. Blake St… he frowned, why's that sound familiar. It hit him; he was only a block from her apartment. Unsure what to do, he sat there for another moment. It couldn't hurt to drive by, he though. Yes… What a brilliant idea, stalk her.

He patted his pockets looking for that fourth pill, the magic dragon mind-numbing pill. When nothing turned up, he reached over and opened the glove compartment. Two bottles spilled out. One was empty the other relatively full.

Not opening the bottle, he listened to the rattle of the pills as he flipped it in his hand. Drive away, he thought, you'll only hurt her. Go home have a few drinks, forget her.

If he hadn't hired her, he wouldn't be sitting here talking to himself. She wouldn't have wheedled her way into his life. He wouldn't have to see her eyes imploring him to love her. He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't, doesn't help now though does it, he thought. The situation was a mess and he landed right himself right in the middle of it, but what else was he suppose to do, he treated her the same as Forman and Chase, well maybe not Chase, but Forman certainly. And they had the decency to get pissed about it, not like him. What kind of masochistic woman was this anyway?

Besides, he was her boss for Christ sakes. They couldn't be together just for that reason alone, not to mention his other glaring flaws. Being a complete bastard most of the time for one. He was too harsh, demanding, and messed up for her. Right?

The problem was he did care about her, damn it. He shouldn't, he was too old for her. She needed some young guy that could keep up with her not some old cripple that could barely make it around. A ray of sunshine, that brought her candy and flowers. He stopped. He was starting to make himself sick.

Tapping the steering wheel, he stared down the street. He sat there, knowing what he would do, but not willing to do it just yet. Was there really any other choice? Probably. But not one he was going to follow, however foolish.

Turning right he drove down to the end of the block. As he rolled to a stop in front of her building, he looked up through the windshield and saw a light still on. He felt his nerves kick in. He really hadn't expected her to be up. It was after all midnight.

Should he go up and talk to her? Would she even invite him in? Of course she would, he knew she wouldn't turn him away. It wasn't her way.

You're a coward if you don't, he thought gripping the steering wheel and resting his head on his hands. He wanted nothing more then to take her in his arms and he feared nothing more than allowing himself that luxury. But he knew if he went up there, he would have to let her in. The thought made him a little nauseous. His heart gave a quick race and then settled back down. She isn't Stacy, he thought. Not every woman would be capable of what she did. And if he thought about it, if he had to choose one woman with his heart it would be Cameron. Only Cameron.

She gave herself over to you in the hopes you wouldn't stomp on her heart and at every turn, that was your exact response. Yet still she turns to you still believing you aren't the monster you know yourself to be. The trust she has in you after everything you've done should mean something. He feared that what he should and what he was capable of might be two very different things.

Silence engulfed him as he took the keys from the ignition. Leaning back against the headrest, he tucked the pills in his pocket and got out of the car. Jangling his keys he stood in front of his car looking up at her window. The light was still on, he waited another minute and when it didn't go out, he slipped his keys in his jacket pocket and went in.

Second, floor apartment 2B. "Good Lord" he mumbled taking the first step. Each step thereafter became more laborious then the one before. Leaning heavily on his cane he scrutinizing the remaining stairs unsure he could make it. Unconsciously, he reached into his pocket fingering the bottle.

It hit him as he stood looking up the stairs that his legs wasn't the problem, well not directly. The normal pain was there but the three pills he took 10 minutes ago had deaden any real pain, he might be experiencing going up the stairs. It was his nerves slowing him down. Had his leg not been ravaged into some useless appendage he would already be up the flight and knocking on her door. Damn leg, he thought, it was taking too long to get to her. He had almost given in without even realizing why he was giving in.

More determined then ever, he climbed the remainder of the stairs. Standing across from her door, he leaned against the wall tapping his cane, staring at the floor. She's not Stacy, he said softly beating the words out with his cane.