This story takes place during the quarantine in Close Quarters. 

Quarantined (The Nameless Story ;) By Michele Savage 

Two a.m. on the fourth day of the quarantine an exhausted Hilary sat in the 
control room on what had become a nightly vigil. She'd crept out of the green 
room nearly an hour ago, making sure not to wake anyone. Carefully she cleared a 
spot on the table where she could sit and lean against the wall, able to see 
Jeffrey better. She swung her legs onto the table and curled into the robe of 
Jeff's that she wore, catching his scent on the fabric as she resituated 
herself. 

As she watched her husband sleeping as yet peacefully, she thought, not for the 
first time that week, that she missed him. Missed sleeping with him. Sure he was 
just across the hall, but to not be able to fall asleep within his warm embrace 
was starting to take it's toll. 

She could tell it was beginning to wear on Jeffrey, too. It was in his body 
language during the day. He found every excuse to touch her, even if just to 
brush a leg against hers. It was in his eyes when he looked her way, in his 
voice when he spoke. It was getting more and more difficult for them both to 
hide the longing for each other. 

They were rarely openly affectionate, other than after Jeff's return from 
London. Then they had been so happy to have that second chance. After spending 
nearly nine years denying their true feelings for each other, once those 
feelings had been expressed it was hard to deny anything. True they had gone a 
little overboard but, Hilary smiled softly, when were they ever subtle. 
Now, they tried to keep much of the open attention at home. Though the more 
comfortable she felt with both her feelings toward Jeffrey and her (dare she 
think it? ) friendship with her co-workers, Hilary was more apt to show her 
emotions. Where Jeff was concerned anyway. 

Her attention was drawn back toward him when he turned in his sleep. She noticed 
he automatically reached an arm out to where she normally would have been, but 
withdrew it when he only felt cold floor. She kept watch on him closely, seeing 
that he'd awakened enough to reacquaint himself with his surroundings. She hoped 
he wouldn't have trouble falling back into a peaceful slumber. 

She'd told Betty about his nightmares that first night, but she hadn't told her 
why she'd wanted to be there when he fell asleep. Since the bombing, he'd had 
trouble even getting to sleep at all. Every time he closed his eyes, he'd start 
hearing the whine of the bombs. She had taken to gathering him in her arms and 
talking to him or even singing to him, until he fell asleep. Lately he'd been 
getting to sleep on his own, but she'd worried that the change in sleeping 
arrangements would hamper his progress. 

A noise from the studio caught her attention, but she quickly realized it was 
one of the other men snoring. She laughed silently at the thought of Mackie 
being scandalized if he knew that every night she sat in here. But it wasn't him 
she was watching. She turned her focus again toward her husband. 

He had rolled to his side, his back toward her. She could tell by his even 
breathing that he was asleep again. She let herself relax against the wall. 
Somewhere in her half-awake awareness her mind chose to notice the way the shirt 
stretched taught across his back. A wave of desire moved through her and she 
hugged her legs closer. She lay her head on her knees and took a deep breath, 
which she quickly regretted. Not regretted, no. But she was wearing his robe and 
the deep inhalation of his scent assailed her senses more than she would have 
liked at the moment. 

She leaned back again, straightening her legs. Closing her eyes, she tried 
desperately to quell the arousal she was feeling. But that only brought forth 
images. She sighed and gave in to the memory. She thought about the last time 
they made love. Saturday night. 

They had gone out for a lovely dinner and dancing. Mackie had started something 
when he gave them those Benny Goodman tickets. They had truly enjoyed being 
together as a couple out on the town. Now they went out as often as possible. 
They'd gotten home fairly late that night, but neither of them was tired. The 
music was still kicking around the adrenaline, so Jeff had put a record on to 
play. He'd chosen a very sensual piece. She'd let her shawl slide to the floor 
and slowly walked toward him. She knew by the music he'd picked where his mind 
was, and was more than willing to entertain his thoughts. 

She slid her hand into his and felt his other arm encircle her waist, pulling 
her against his body. They swayed together to the rhythm of the music, dancing 
like practiced lovers. She liked the way they fit together, as if they were 
matching puzzle pieces. Nestling her head within the crook of his neck, she 
sighed when he bent to press a kiss on her forehead. Tilting her head slightly, 
she caught his lips and kissed him deeply. She felt more than heard him moan her 
name. 

Hilary was abruptly wide awake. Her name. She'd really heard it. She glanced at 
Jeffrey through the glass and saw that he was sitting. "I must have fallen 
asleep." She berated herself for not catching the nightmare before it woke him 
up. Rushing into the studio, she was at his side within a moment. 

"Shh . . . You're all right, Pumpkin." She whispered comfortingly. 

"Where am I?" He asked, disoriented. 

"At work, remember?" She reminded him gently. 

"Oh . . . right." He remembered. "I must have had a bad dream. I woke up and you 
were gone. I thought I was back in London." 

She hugged him tightly, "No, honey you're with me." 
The sound of voices woke Scott up. He opened his eyes and caught the tender 
scene between Jeff and Hilary. He'd always thought there was more to that 
relationship than they let on. He rolled over giving them privacy and smiled as 
he drifted back to sleep. 

"Why don't you lay down and try to go back to sleep." Hilary softly suggested. 
"Stay with me." He lay and asked, "until I get to sleep, at least." 

"Jeffrey darling, surely you don't expect me to lay on this hard, uncomfortable 
floor." She said, with a mischievous lift of an eyebrow. 

"You've never minded before." He answered suggestively, pulling her toward him. 
She giggled, "I've always been too occupied to notice." 

"Well, thank you." He smugly replied, rolling suddenly and trapping her 
partially beneath him. He clamped a hand over her mouth silencing her startled 
yelp. His 'shh . . .' became a deep groan as Hilary determinedly sucked his 
little finger into her mouth. 

He pulled his hand away and replaced it with a kiss, his tongue delving between 
her lips meeting hers. He wrapped his arms tightly around her body, needing to 
feel her completely against him. 

Before she lost herself, Hilary's conscious mind remembered where they were. 
Pushing him slightly away, she reminded him, "Pumpkin, ordinarily I love an 
audience, but not while we make love." 

"Hell." He'd completely forgotten about the other fellas. Jeff closed his eyes 
and lay his head against hers, silently willing his body to calm. "Maybe you 
should go, darling." 

"Yes," she traced his lips with her thumb, "maybe I should." 

"Mittens, please." He sat up, putting distance between them. 

She moved to her knees, and pressed another kiss against his mouth, "I'm going." 

"You'll be all right, getting back to sleep?" She asked, moving to a crouch. 

"Maybe after I take a cold shower; which I can't do because I'm not at home." He 
told her with a measure of humor in his voice. 

She smiled, knowing exactly how he felt. "Good night, my love." 

He lay and pulled the blanket to cover him completely and watched her leave 
through the control room door. He wanted to leave with her, but knew the ladies 
would be even more unforgiving than his roommates. So, he took a deep breath 
closed his eyes and tried to get to sleep without visions of his wife dancing 
through his subconscious. It was morning before he finally dozed off. 

Bedside Manor the next day featured a very subdued Mr. and Mrs. Singer. They 
spent most of the broadcast avoiding eye contact. Rather than talking to each 
other, they talked at each other forcing Mackie to carry the brunt of the show. 
Their chemistry was completely off and they read more than acted out the script. 

Betty and Scott sat in the control room watching the broadcast go down in 
flames. 

"What are they doing?" Betty asked, annoyed. 

Scott sat back and took CJ's headphones off. He remembered what he overheard the 
previous night. "I think it's more like what -aren't- they doing?" 

"What do you mean?" She asked, oblivious to the double meaning in Scott's 
comment. 

"Ah . . .uh . . . nevermind." Scott grinned and put the headphones back on. 
Betty glanced at Scott sitting next to her with that silly grin of his and 
decided she didn't even want to know what was going through his dustball-laden 
mind. She sat back and watched Jeff and Hilary kill the rest of Bedside Manor. 
It -was- a good script. Until they had gotten hold of it. 

With the show finally over, Hilary tossed the script over her shoulder and 
strutted out of the studio. As the paper fluttered to the floor in front of him, 
Mackie glared at Hilary as she walked out the door. Jeff shoved his script into 
Mackie's hands and followed his wife. Seeing nowhere else to set the papers, 
Mackie angrily tossed them to the floor. He crossed his arms and glared at the 
two in the control room. 

Betty frustratedly dropped her head onto her hand, and Scott threw the headset, 
pushed the chair back and crossed his arms, annoyed. "Go find Maple. We need to 
broadcast -something-." Scott told Betty. 

Jeff followed Hilary down the hall, and caught up with her as she turned the 
corner. He pushed her abruptly into the storeroom. 

"Jeffrey! What are you . . ." Her question was cut off with a kiss. 

She completely forgot what she was saying, and gave in to the rush of emotion. 
Her body arched instinctively against his as he moved his fevered kisses to her 
neck, nipping slightly ever so often. She threaded a hand through the hair at 
the nape of his neck, and let the other travel freely over his back. 

"To what . . . do I owe this . . .pleasure?" The words slipped haltingly from 
her mouth amid soft sighs. 

He placed his hands on either side of her chin and tilted her head so he could 
look into her eyes. "It's getting to the point where I can't keep my . . ." 

The door eased open and the light suddenly switched on. "Maple?" Betty asked as 
she walked into the room. Both Hilary and Jeff jumped at the sudden intrusion. 
They separated quickly and attempted to look as non-guilty as possible. Instead 
they looked like two high school kids who'd just been caught necking in the back 
seat of the family car. Betty jumped when they did, not really expecting anyone 
to be in the dark room. 

Holding her hand over her heart to calm the fright, and attempting to hide the 
slight embarrassment she felt, Betty snapped, "This is a storage room, not a 
hotel room!" 

Jeff moved Hilary in front of him, and put his hands on her waist, having to 
settle with just the satisfaction of feeling her near him. "Yes Betty. It's 
obvious you know the difference." He snapped a bit too harshly. He heard Hilary 
smirk, and watched the other woman cross her arms and glare. 

"Out." Betty opened the door wider and gestured for them to leave. As the couple 
begrudgingly left the room, Betty rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her. 
It suddenly dawned on her what Scott meant by his comment. *Great. On top of 
everything else, I've got a married couple to baby-sit. I should have listened 
when my mother warned me about this job! * 

"Betty Betty Betty!" 

"Yes, Scotty Scotty Scotty." She acknowledged with a smile as he walked around 
the corner. 

"Did you find Maple?" 

"Maple!" Betty realized she'd forgotten all about looking for the brash redhead 
when she found Jeff and Hilary instead. 

"Well, that's okay. Colonel Moore found his voice." Scott grinned smugly. "After 
a bit of persuasion on my part." 

"Oh, good. Because I think we have another problem." She leaned against the 
wall, her arms crossed. 

"And what might that be?" He asked leaning against the wall facing her, 
mimicking her stance. 

"Jeff and Hilary." 

"What? Are they fighting again?" 

"No -o, quite the opposite." She smiled. "I just walked in on them in the store 
room. " She said, a blush creeping embarrassingly on her face. 

"Really?" He asked, enjoying her torment. 

"Sco -ott!" 

"Sorry." He impishly apologized.

"How much longer is this darned quarantine? It's not fair to them that we don't 
have someplace where they can sleep together." She reddened again, not meaning 
the statement quite the way it sounded. "I mean, sleep. Together. In the same 
room." She stumbled over the words, getting herself in deeper each time she 
spoke. 

The more she tripped over her words, the more Scott smiled. 

When he laughed Betty, narrowed her eyes, "I don't think this is very funny." 

"No. Its not, I'm sorry." He apologized, genuinely. "I don't know what we can 
do." 

"Well, we are just going to have to leave things the way they are for now. And 
hope we can all hold out till Mr. Foley is better." Betty rationalized. 

DAY 6 

As the days wore on, the tensions became almost unbearable between not only Jeff 
and Hilary, but everyone else as well. Little things were beginning to wear on 
nerves and nit-picking arguments were becoming the norm. 

"Mackie Bloom!" Maple shouted shrilly as she burst out of the ladies room 
carrying a dripping pile of material. 

"What?" a bewildered Mackie ran out of the green room. 

She thrust the sodden mess into his hands, "What is your laundry doing in mine?" 

He looked perplexed, "Maple, you told me yesterday you'd do my clothes for me." 

She stopped and thought, "Oh. Yeah." She smiled uncomfortably. "Sorry." She left 
him with his dripping clothes and went back into the ladies room. 

He shrugged and started to hang his clothes on the line strung down the length 
of the hallway. 

Hilary walked out of the studio and fluffed her hair back with a hand. She 
ducked under the line and walked into the green room. 

"Well, that was a good show. Don't you agree, dear?" She asked Jeff who was 
sitting at the table reading a magazine. 

"I suppose so, Hilary." He replied, his eyes not leaving the page he was 
reading. 

"What do you mean, you suppose?" She asked, her temper starting to flare. 

"Sorry darling, I wasn't listening." He said putting the magazine down on the 
table. 

"You weren't listening?" She slumped and put a hand on her hip. "Jeffrey!" She 
whined. 

He stood, and humoring her, mimicked, "Hilary!" He smiled and put his arms 
around her waist. She pushed out of his arms, and walked to the refrigerator. 
Pulling the door open, she disgustedly noted that the only contents were left 
over spaghetti and a few bottles of root beer. "Scotty needs to have more 
groceries delivered." 

She shut the door and sat hard at the table. Jeff walked behind her setting his 
hands on her shoulders. He tangled his thumbs in the hair at the nape of her 
neck, and lightly massaged the skin. 

"That's nice," she cooed softly. 

Hooking his foot around the leg of a chair he pulled it to where he was standing 
and sat, leaning close. He lay his head against hers and breathed the fresh 
smell of her shampoo. Her argument for her own toiletries had annoyed everyone, 
but truthfully, he was glad she had stuck to her guns. He loved the way she 
smelled. He closed his eyes, trying to reign in the fierce ache. "I wish we were 
home." He whispered, his voice betraying his desire. 

She lay her head back against his shoulder and drew her arm up around his head, 
pulling his lips to hers. She kissed him hungrily, drawing as much satisfaction 
as she could. "Pun'kin", she sighed against his lips. 

He wrapped her tightly in his arms and pulled her into his lap. Turning her 
toward him, he sat her across his legs so he could hold her easier. He deepened 
the kiss, losing himself completely in her. She moaned softly as she felt his 
hand brush across a breast. His touch sent electric thrills even through the 
material of her clothes. 

She knew in the back of her mind, they were in the green room; that they would 
likely get interrupted, again, but at this point she just didn't care. Her only 
focus at the moment was the man in her arms and the incredible things he was 
causing her to feel. 

Maple walked through the swinging doors, and stopped at the *not entirely* 
unexpected sight of Jeff and Hilary. She shrugged *I've seen worse at the 
Follies* and moved to the small refrigerator and pulled out a root beer. She 
left the room, and walked into Betty, who was heading into the green room. 
"Wait." She said to Betty and nodded at the door. Betty glanced through the 
window, and with a determined look on her face started forward. 

Maple stopped Betty with a hand, "Hey give 'em a break, huh?"
 
Betty crossed her arms, "Well..." 

"Betty, " Maple lay a hand on the smaller woman's shoulder, "If they start 
removing clothes, then you can interrupt them." 

Betty rolled her eyes and shaking her head walked off toward the writer's room. 
"Well Hilary," Maple tossed the lid from her bottle into the air, and caught it, 
"You owe me one." She took a drink and walked off with a grin. 

Hilary lay her head back as he burned a trail of kisses along her neck. She 
propped her feet on the chair she'd just been sitting in, dropping a shoe. 
"Jeffrey . . ." she breathed, "I need . . ." 

"Well, excuse me!" a sharply disapproving voice suddenly rang out. 

Jeff clutched the back of Hilary's hair tightly, fighting his urge to strangle 
Gertrude Reece. 

"Not likely." Hilary snobbishly remarked, leaning her forehead against Jeff's 
cheek. 

"There is a place for that and it isn't here." The older woman clucked, walking 
to the hot plate. 

Hilary, in no hurry to remove herself from Jeff's lap, glared and cattily 
replied, "And we would -love- to go there. If -we -could -!" 

"Okay, I've had it." Jeff angrily stood, setting Hilary on her feet as he rose. 
He blustered out of the room, the door swinging widely behind him. 

Hilary straightened her dress and looked around for the shoe she found she was 
missing. Finding it under the chair, she kicked it out and slipped it on. She 
walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a cold bottle of root beer. She didn't 
really want the drink, but she needed something cold to douse the heat still 
raging through her body. When she moved to the bottle opener she caught the 
chastising look from Gertie. She opened her mouth to say something, but thought 
again. *I'm not in the mood* 

She left the green room, heading for . . .wherever she ended up. 

Jeff barged into Scott's office without bothering to knock. "Sherwood, I have a 
problem." He shut the door behind him. 

Scott grinned lazily and lounged back in his chair, putting his feet on the 
desk. "Well, Jeff, no one had a gun to your head when you married her." 

"Ha ha." Jeff sarcastically laughed, and bent over the desk, leaning on his 
hands. "One night, Scott. That's all I'm asking." 

Scott sat up, he'd had a feeling he would be having this talk with Jeff sooner 
or later. "Look, Jeff. I can't let you go home." 

Jeff straightened, "What about the writer's room?" 

Scott walked around the desk and sat on the corner, "That's Betty's office. I'm 
not going to give up her office space without talking to her first, and this is 
a conversation I'd rather she not be in on." 


Jeff nodded, conceding that point, "What about the storage room." 
"That door doesn't lock." 

A slow grin crept across Jeff's face, "This one does." 

Scott stood, "Oh, now wait a minute . . ." 

"I'll make you a deal." 

Hilary ended up in the writer's room. Betty and Maple were talking and both 
women looked up when she walked in and sat on the desk backed against Betty's. 
"I thought you were 'otherwise occupied'." Maple asked. 

"I was, until Gertie walked in." Hilary snapped. 

Betty snickered, and Maple pursed her lips in amusement. 

"I'll bet that went over well." Maple said smiling.

Hilary took a drink from the bottle she was holding and then laughed. "You 
should have seen the look on her face!" 

The three women laughed giddily. 

"It was almost -almost- worth it, just to have Gertie walk in on us." 
"You know, that happened once to me," Maple remembered, "only it was the man's 
wife that walked in." 

"Only once?" Hilary sarcastically smiled. 

"Don't tell me it's never happened to you, Hilary." The red head retorted. 

She smirked, "Let me count the ways. Of course usually, -I'm- the wife." 

"Jeff wouldn't . ." Betty spoke up. 

"Jeffrey's not the only husband I've had. And he's no angel." Hilary took 
another drink of root beer. 

Maple laughed, "It's a wonder he's survived being married to you." 

Hilary smiled and lifted an eyebrow suggestively, "I've let him live for a -very 
good- reason." 

Maple smiled knowingly, "I'll bet." 

Offhandedly, Hilary added, "Of course it's been so long, I'm beginning to forget 
that reason." 

"C'mon Hilary, I'm sure it hasn't been that long. What's it been? A week since 
we've been here?" 

"Yes, too long." Hilary said, dreamily. 

Betty suddenly stood, "Okay. That's skirting on more information than I wanted 
to know."

Both women looked at her as if they'd just realized she was still in the room, 
then burst out into laughter. 

Betty smiled, "Out. I have some scripts I could be writing." 

DAY 8 

The next couple days passed relatively painlessly, although it was obvious that 
they all were tiring of each other's company. Nearly everyone, including Jeff 
and Hilary had ceased speaking to one another. Scott walked through the silent 
hallway, and smiled at the peace. It certainly hadn't been peaceful last night. 
His choice for dinner had been roundly objected to --it wasn't his fault he had 
a craving for spaghetti and meatballs. After eating Hilary's spaghetti, his 
tastebuds wanted the real thing. He'd called in a favor with a buddy of his that 
owned an Italian pub and eatery and had the food delivered. 

To top it off, Betty had walked in on Jeff and Hilary, again. Hilary had nearly 
taken Betty's head off, and Jeff spent the next hour in the men's room, cooling 
his heels. He had to admit though, thinking about how difficult it's been 
spending all this time near Betty, that he knew where Jeff was coming from. It 
was for that reason he'd agreed to let Jeff have his office tonight. 

Jeff closed the green room window blinds, and moved the desk back against the 
wall. He'd brought his camping gear and spread out the sleeping bag. He knew it 
wasn't the most comfortable, but quite honestly he didn't really plan on 
sleeping much tonight. After lighting a few of the candles he'd found in the 
store room, Jeff switched off the light. The heat of anticipation warmed him as 
he peeked out of the hallway window until he saw Hilary. Once he saw her, he 
closed those blinds too, and then opened the door. 

Hilary yelped in surprise when she felt herself abruptly pulled into Scott's 
office. She turned quickly, fully prepared to berate her 'abductor' and found 
herself in his arms. She pushed back, not wanting to go through the frustration 
of being interrupted again, only to realize she was against the door. "No, Jeff, 
I can't." 

"We won't be interrupted, I promise." Jeff said, locking the door. 

"We won't?" she asked, and looking around noticed that he'd brought in his 
camping gear. 

"Nope," He said, pulling her scarf slowly from around her neck. "We're locked in 
for the night." 

She smiled, and ran a finger lightly over his jaw bone. "The whole night?" she 
purred. "Ooh, whatever are we . . . wait a minute," she pushed under his arm and 
walked away from him, "I'm not speaking to you." 

He turned and looped the scarf around her waist and pulled her against him. He 
dropped the silky material and focused his attention on her hair. Pulling it 
free of the pins, he threaded his fingers through the auburn curls. He dropped a 
kiss on her forehead and smiled, "I'm not speaking to you, either." 

He captured her lips in a hungry kiss that sent heady thrills shimmering through 
her body. But she summoned her will, and pushed him away once more. Swallowing 
hard she spoke, "This is Scott's office." 

"Ye-es." Jeff said, as he calmly unbuttoned her dress. "And it's ours for the 
night." 

He started to pull the dress off her shoulders, but she crossed her arms, 
holding it up. She took a step back, "Exactly what did you tell him?" 

Jeff smiled amusedly and reached for her, pulling her back to him. "I told him, 
Mrs. Singer," he moved her arms and the dress fell to her feet. "That it was 
getting so I couldn't keep my hands off my wife." He methodically stripped her 
of the rest of her clothing as he talked. "And unless everyone wanted a floor 
show, we needed privacy." He pulled her warm, now nude, body into his arms and 
let his hands wander over her soft curves. 

Hilary wrapped her arms around him and enjoyed his touch. She moaned and closed 
her eyes to the sensations as his lips traveled over her neck. She smiled, "But, 
Scott being Scott ...," a sharp intake of breath as Jeff found a particularly 
sensitive area, interrupted her sentence. She rubbed her head against his and 
tightly grasped the back of his shirt. "Um ... " her passion dulled senses 
searched for what she was saying, "Scott. What does he want in return?" Jeff 
laughed softly against her throat, sending prickles of fire to the core of her 
arousal. 

"A few rounds at O'Malley's." He mumbled, moving again to her lips. 
He may as well have thrown a bucket of ice water over her. She roughly shoved 
herself out of his arms. "O'Malleys!" She screeched, "Is that all I'm worth to 
you? A few beers?" She crossed her arms and huffed indignantly. 

Jeff took a deep breath, trying to quell the sudden frustration. He opened his 
arms to her, "Darling, of course not. To me, you're priceless." He lay his hands 
on either side of her shoulders and kissed her softly, "and you're beautiful." 
He smiled, "Scott ... thinks you're worth a few beers. And that's all he's 
getting." 

"Me, I'm spending the night with my very," his eyes drank in the sight of her, 
"sexy," and he pulled her against him, "wife." 

"His loss." She giggled. 

"Pumpkin," Hilary backed away slightly. Seductively she ran a finger from his 
throat, over the buttons of the white shirt he wore, to stop teasingly close to 
the evident arousal in his pants. "Why are you still dressed?" 

"Maybe now we won't have to worry about walking in on them anymore." Maple said 
to Betty as she spread the blanket out on her cot. 

"On who?" Gertie asked as she walked into the green room ready for bed. 

"Hilary and Jeff." Maple said as if she were stating the obvious. She sat on her 
bed and pulled the blanket over legs. 

"Oh?" Gertie said with a wry smile, "Did Mr. Sherwood send them home?" 

"Gertie, we're quarantined." Betty reminded, "They're in his office." She 
gestured toward the blind covered window, glowing with candle light. 

Gertie harrumphed and lay on the cot she was using. "Well, I hope these aren't 
thin walls." 

Both Betty and Maple chuckled at the older woman's comment. 

"I just hope they get it out of their system." Maple observed. 

Betty smiled, "I somehow doubt that." 

"Yeah, me too." Maple agreed. She sat straighter, and wrapped her arms around 
her knees, "Do you know who they remind me of," she asked Betty. "Well, not who 
, but they remind me of a pair of goats my cousin had on his farm." 

"Goats?" Betty laughed. 

"Yeah, those two goats were inseparable. They couldn't stand each other. 
Constantly they were bleating and biting at each other. Then they'd go off to 
their corner of the barn. Like I said, inseparable." Maple explained, ".Jeff and 
Hilary remind me of those two goats." 

Betty thought, "That's a interesting comparison." The she smiled, "But I 
wouldn't tell Hilary she reminds you of a goat." 

Gertie laughed from her cot., "I'd love to see her face if you did." 

"Yeah." Maple lay and pulled the blanket over her, "Well goodnight ladies. 

Jeff sat and threw the remainder of his clothes onto a pile. He looked up to 
Hilary, still standing over him. He reached for her hand and pulled her into his 
open arms, and lay her down in the same motion. 

She laughed and whispered, "Careful Pumpkin, I'm fragile." Hilary let her hand 
drift sensually over his arm. 

Jeff lay on his side, against her. He brushed a wayward hair out of her face. 
"Darling," he said with a smile, "You are a lot of things, not the least of 
which is fragile." He pressed a kiss on her forehead, her nose, her lips. "You 
have a brilliant mind." 

He explored her body while he spoke. A body he knew very well. He knew exactly 
where to touch her; to make her cry out in pleasure or sigh his name softly. 
"You're stubborn," he said against her neck 

Hilary arched her back against him, "Jef ... frey," she whispered into the 
candlelit darkness, as she felt his lips on her breasts. She tangled a hand into 
his hair, needlessly guiding him to the sensitive flesh. Her other hand clutched 
at his shoulder, the nails lightly scratching. 

"You can be frustrating, irritating, and dangerous within moments." He sprinkled 
kisses randomly over her stomach, moving ever so temptingly close to her inner 
thigh. What he wasn't kissing, he was caressing with his hands. 
"Jeff ... please." She cried softly, her need for him growing in intensity with 
every masterful touch. 

He moved over her, leaning his weight on his elbows and looked her into the 
eyes, smiling. "You are easily the most complex, unpredictable, and beautiful 
woman I've ever known." He kissed her deeply; his need beginning to match hers. 
He completed their union as he spoke in deep breathless tones, "And you're 
mine," laying his head against hers. 

She held him tighter as he entered her, and moaned lightly, "Always, my love." 
She kissed him softly as they moved together in a rhythm known only to them. 
She let her hands drift over every reachable inch of his body. He was beautiful, 
her Jeffrey. Sometimes she couldn't fathom why a man like him loved her. She 
wasn't even close to being easy to live with. But every day, she was thankful he 
did. 

She threw her head back and closed her eyes as she felt her release wash over 
her in waves of searing passion. "I love you, my Pumpkin," she whispered amidst 
broken sighs. She grasped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his 
skin. 

He bit lightly at the skin of her neck, just below her right ear. "Mittens ...," 
he cooed words of love to her as she writhed passionately in his arms. He felt 
his climax take over his body and lost all conscious thought, save one. The 
woman in his arms. Some days he had no idea why he loved her. Then she'd look at 
him with those beautiful eyes of hers, with the hint of a lost little girl, and 
he knew. He'd go to the ends of the earth to protect her. To cherish her. She 
was as much a part of him as he was of her. 

Hilary sighed once more and stilled. She smiled and traced his lips with her 
finger. "Jeffrey. I love you." 

He slid her finger into his mouth, balanced himself on the arm he had behind her 
shoulders and took her hand into his, kissing her palm. He held her hand against 
his chest near his still rapidly beating heart, "I love you too, darling." 
He rolled gently, pulling her with him. She lay her head on his shoulder, her 
hand still held against his chest. With his free hand, Jeff pulled the edge of 
the sleeping bag over, covering them. He cradled her head in the crook of his 
arm, and whispered against her forehead, "Sleep now." 

"Thank you, Jeffrey." She sighed contentedly, "I don't know how I'm going to 
face anyone in the morning, but thank you." 

"You're welcome." Jeff softly laughed, and turned slightly so he could hold her 
more comfortably. "Goodnight" 

She closed her eyes, and briefly before she fell asleep, she hoped that he too 
would have a peaceful night's sleep. 

DAY 9 

Hilary stretched and turned to look at Jeff who was still sleeping. She smiled 
and dropped a soft kiss on his bare shoulder. She looked to the clock on the 
wall and noticed it was seven fifteen. Time to get up. Bedside Manor wouldn't 
broadcast itself. 

"Jeffrey." She whispered in his ear. He stirred but didn't wake. She grinned 
wickedly; Hilary knew exactly what would wake him up. She peppered small 
whisperlike kisses over his chest, her hair tickling as she moved lower. His 
body automatically reacted to her touch and his breathing quickened. He moaned 
her name softly in his sleep. 

She pushed aside the sleeping bag covering them so she could more easily move, 
and see his face. He was smiling. Apparently this dream was better than those 
he'd been having. Of course she was the source of this particular dream. 
"Pumpkin . . ." she purred, blowing lightly on the fine hairs on his abdomen. 
She took him into her mouth, slowly; eagerly. 

He groaned and woke, tangling his hands in her hair. "Oh, Hilary." He pulled her 
up to meet his mouth and kissed her, his tongue meeting hers in an erotic dance. 

He pulled her over him and she placed both her hands aside his head. She rubbed 
his temples with her thumbs, "My love." She murmured against his lips. "My 
darling pumpkin." 

She sat, easing herself onto him, and sighed as he filled her. He started to 
push himself into a sitting position, and Hilary wrapped her arms around his 
neck, helping. He wrapped her in his embrace, and held her tightly as she made 
love to him. 

"Hmmm ... Miss Booth, Broadway always misses ... your finest performances." 
Betty sat in the control room drumming her fingers on the table. Seven 
fifty-seven. She looked at Mackie on the other side of the glass, staring back 
at her with an "I told you so" expression. She shrugged and turned when the door 
opened and Scott walked in. "Three minutes." She said in an annoyed voice. 
"They're -here- and they're late." 

"Yeah, well at least you aren't locked out of you're own office." Scott sat next 
to Betty and grumped. "I got work to do." 

Betty gave Scott a sidelong grin, "Well, it was your bright idea." 

Jeff and Hilary burst into the studio muffling giggles, while Mackie read the 
commercial prior to the start of Bedside Manor. 

"Thirty seconds to spare. A new record." Hilary whispered aside to Jeffrey. 
"Among others." He fingered a missed tangle from her hair. They both laughed at 
a shared joke. 

Mackie groaned inwardly and rolled his eyes. This was going to be a long half 
hour. 

Later that afternoon in the green room, Jeff, Maple, and Scott sat around the 
table eating sandwiches. Maple stood and opened the refrigerator, "I am so sick 
of root beer." She grabbed a bottle anyway and walked to the counter behind Jeff 
to open it. She turned, "You know, I ...hey Jeff," she walked toward him, 
"that's a pretty bad scratch on your neck." 

"What?", he felt the back of his neck. He blushed lightly; the scratch started 
near his ear and went below his collar. 

"Gee Jeff," She gave Scott a knowing grin, "However did you get that." 
"I . .uh . ." Jeff stammered reaching for an explanation. He took a gulp of 
water trying to cool his embarrassment. 

Hilary pushed through the green room doors, "Has anyone seen the clippers? I 
need to trim my nails." 

Jeff nearly choked on the water he hadn't swallowed yet. Scott and Maple both 
choked back laughter. And Hilary just looked confused. 

Jeff stood and escaped from the green room. Hilary watched him leave and looked 
at the others, "What did I say?" 

Neither, at that point, could contain the laughter. 

She glared at the two, knowing somehow that it was at her expense. She left the 
room intending to find Jeff and have him explain. 

She cornered him leaving the men's lounge. "What is so funny?" 

"What do you mean, what's funny?" He asked, "Hilary . . you scratched me!" 

She blinked, not sure she'd heard him right. "Well," she lowered her voice and 
snapped, "I didn't hear you complaining last night." 

"But Hilary ..." Jeff argued back, "This is on my neck!" He covered the scratch 
with his hand, "It's visible!" 

She took a step closer to him and whispered sharply, "Pardon me, for expressing 
passion for my husband!" 

"Next time be a little more careful." He reminded, calmer. 

She breathed in sharply, and said, much louder, "Well maybe there won't -be- a 
next time!" 

He pointed, ready to say something but he was so angry the only thing that came 
out of his mouth was, "FINE!" and then he disappeared into the men's room and 
slammed the door. 

"FINE!" She yelled at the closed door then turned on her heel and walked down 
the hall. 

That evening in his own office, Scott leaned back in the chair and propped his 
feet on the desk. The door was shut and locked. He closed his eyes, enjoying the 
quiet. And it was quiet. He had given up trying to keep a score card of who 
wasn't speaking to whom. The yelling in the hallway had stopped a few minutes 
ago. He couldn't tell by the voices, but it sounded like Maple and Hilary. He 
didn't hear what the argument was about, but he thought he'd heard Jeff's name 
mentioned. Scott chuckled; Maple must have looked at Jeff wrong, Hilary took it 
as flirting and she was off and running. 

He thought back to that first night when Betty had given him that spontaneous 
kiss on the cheek. Would Betty ever care enough about him to argue with another 
woman for flirting? Does he care enough about Betty to want her to care? He 
yawned and decided it was time to turn in for the night. 

Scott was a light sleeper. His days as a codebreaker had taught him that he 
needed to be aware of his surroundings at all times. He heard Jeff mumbling in 
his sleep. Soon he'd hear Hilary's voice quietly soothing her husband. This 
afternoon they'd ceased speaking to one another, yet that still didn't stop the 
calming visits. In those moments when Hilary dropped her guard, he could 
actually see what Jeff sees in her. He had to admit, she's really not as cold as 
she'd like everyone to believe. 

His thought's swam from Hilary to Betty. At that moment Scott decided he needed 
to get some sleep before he started thinking things he really shouldn't. Like 
the smell of her perfume. *Go to sleep, Scott.* The curve of her waist. *Now, 
Scott.* Her legs. He groaned inwardly and slid his head underneath his pillow. 
*I've been stuck with these people too long.* 

DAY 10 

Hilary sat across the table from Jeff. He glared at her over the edges of his 
coffee cup. Apparently he was still mad. Last night, while easing him from his 
nightmare she'd realized she not only was no longer mad at him, but she'd 
forgotten why she was angry in the first place. But he was still mad. Well, 
fine. If he wasn't going to speak to her, then she would return the favor. She 
dealt herself another hand for solitaire. 

Things seemed to be looking up though. Mr. Foley had appeared in the studio this 
morning. Looking much better. The doctor was checking him out now. With luck 
they could go home. 

Scott gathered everyone into the green room and gave them the good news. They 
were free to go and he'd arranged for the weekend crew to come in and take over 
their shows for a couple days so everyone could take a vacation from work. A 
large sigh of relief could be heard throughout the room. Everything was quickly 
packed up and soon all were ready to go. They wanted to get away from each 
other, from the station and mostly from Mackie, who'd come down with the measles 
that morning. 

Jeff hailed a cab, while Hilary stood behind him carrying her suitcase. 
"Are you going to speak to me?" She asked. 

He stepped into the cab that stopped and left the door open for her, not 
bothering to acknowledge that she'd spoken. 

"Okay." She muttered and instead turned to watch the buildings begin to go past 
her window. After a few moments, she turned to him. He also was looking out the 
window. For the first time, she really noticed the scratch. She reached to trace 
it with her finger. "I'm sorry about this." 

He turned from the window and smiled softly. "It's okay." He reached and took 
her hand from his neck and held it in his on the seat between them. 
The cab pulled into their driveway, let them out and then drove off. Hilary 
followed Jeffrey to the porch and waited until he unlocked the front door. 
"We'll probably want to open some windows. Let it air out." She spoke up, 
walking through the open door he held for her. 
She dropped her suitcase, and plopped onto the couch, "Ahh . . . home. I don't 
want to leave it for several days." 

She reached her hand out for Jeff to take. He did and she pulled him to the 
couch, throwing her legs over his as he sat. "Are you still angry with me?" 
He smiled, "Not now, but give me a few days and I'm sure I'll find another 
reason to be angry." He kissed her softly. "Let's go see what shape the kitchen 
is in." He said, and stood pulling her with him. 

"The kitchen.", she joked, "I think that was in your job description." 
"I don't recall getting a job description with my copy of the marriage license. 
Tell me dear, what did mine say exactly?" 

"Ahh," she said as she walked into the kitchen, "You do the cooking." she ticked 
the items off on her fingers as she spoke, "You do the cleaning, you do the 
pampering," she gestured to herself at this point. 

Jeff laughed, "and exactly what is in -your- job description, my queen?" 

"Looking beautiful, of course." 

"Well, Mrs. Singer, " he wrapped his arms around her waist, "You do such an 
excellent job at looking beautiful, that maybe I should start adding more to 
your list." 

"Such as?" 

"Oh, cooking, cleaning." he said with a wry grin 

"Ha ha, very funny." She laughed and pushed out of his arms. She grabbed a glass 
out of the cabinet and filled it with cold water. 

"Oh, do me one favor Hilary." He asked seriously, 

"What's that?" She asked, taking a drink. 

He smiled, "Never cook spaghetti again." 

She started to laugh, but caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She 
glanced toward it and saw a small gray mouse skittering across the floor. She 
screamed and suddenly launched herself at Jeff, drenching them both with the 
nearly full glass of water she held. 

"What?!" He asked, nearly losing his balance when she jumped into his arms. 
"I saw a mouse." She replied in a small voice. 

He could barely contain his laughter, "Hilary 'I command you to fear me' Booth 
is afraid of a mouse?" 

She smiled sweetly, and calmly poured the remaining water in the glass over 
Jeff's head. 

He stopped laughing and with a bemused expression, took the glass from her and 
set it in the sink. "You're mopping the floor." He blew the water that had run 
over his face into hers. 

"That's not in my job description, remember?" she reminded him 

"It is now." He kissed her and without putting her down, started walking through 
the house. 


Halfway up the stairs, Hilary asked, "What about the mouse?" 

"He's had the run of the house for nearly two weeks." Jeff walked into the 
bedroom. "A few more hours won't hurt." He tossed Hilary onto the bed and the 
crawled in beside her. He bunched his pillow up underneath his head, "Ahh, 
sleep. Perchance to dream." 

Hilary propped herself on an elbow and kissed Jeff's brow. "Or not to dream." 
She brushed the wet hair back away from his eyes, "That is the question," she 
whispered as she lay flat and went to sleep herself. 

THE END.